The Dreamseller: The Calling (23 page)

More people were joining the group. Unlike us, the closest group, they had their lives like any other member of society. They had jobs, families, friends, hobbies. That day, there were thirty of us. Among them were manual laborers, managers, doctors, psychologists, social workers. There were Christians, Buddhists, Muslims and people of several other religions.

To our surprise, he started the meeting by telling us something tangible about his mysterious past.

“In the past, I had unimaginable power at my fingertips, a level of control that spanned more than a hundred countries. But there came a period in my life when time stopped. I lost all peace in my life. I cried endlessly and inconsolably. Finally I isolated myself on an island country in the Atlantic Ocean and
stayed there for more than three years. The food was good, but I wasn’t hungry. I only hungered for knowledge. I devoured books. I had access to one of the most spectacular libraries. I read day and night, like an asthmatic gasping for breath. I read more than a dozen books a month, almost a hundred and fifty a year. Books on philosophy, neuroscience, theology, history, sociology, psychology. I read while eating, sitting down, standing, walking. My mind was like a machine that photographed page after page of knowledge. All that knowledge helped me understand my past and deal with all I had been through. That’s how I became the human being you see, a small and imperfect seller of dreams.”

He offered no further explanation. His words gave me the wings to fly far off into the heavens of my mind. I saw that while he told his story, some of my friends looked lost. But I can’t say my mind was any better at fitting the puzzle together. “How can he say that his power was so great? What power is he referring to: financial, political, intellectual, spiritual? He seems so fragile, so docile, so poor. He eats with paupers. There are times when he’s tense, but he knows how to control his tension. He demands nothing. He sleeps anywhere. Puts up with aggression. Protects those who oppose him. How can someone who once had so much live so meagerly? Could that power be a figment of his imagination?” Interrupting my thoughts, he elaborated some important recommendations:

“The project to sell dreams doesn’t conflict with your religion, culture or beliefs. In fact, respect your beliefs, value your culture, appreciate your nation’s past and the traditions of your people. I only ask that you change one thing . . .”

He paused for a long time, as if slowly moving toward his fundamental goal.

“I ask you to expand your horizons. To value and, above all else, respect your condition as human beings. My greatest
dream is that we can form a network of people without borders, in every nation, among all peoples, all religions, all scientific environments. A network of people to rescue human nature, the instincts our species has lost. Humanity lives in a pressure cooker of stress because of the ruthless way in which we compete, because of our lack of respect for the international rules of commerce, because of social conflicts, because of the devastation to the environment. The French Revolution took place over two centuries ago, but we speak of it as if it had occurred yesterday. Yet, when we look to the future we have no guarantee that our species will survive one or two more centuries.”

Then he spoke of his model. He said that Jesus repeated more than seventy times in the New Testament that he was the son of man. “Throughout history, few have understood what he meant. He revealed that he was for all mankind. By insisting he was the son of man he wanted it known that he was the son of humanity—the first human being completely without borders. His culture, his race, his nationality were important, but his humanity was much more so. His passion for his fellow man was at a level that theology doesn’t understand and psychology can’t reach. Only a human without borders could say that prostitutes should enter heaven before illustrious Pharisee theologians. His limitless love was a scandal during his time, and still is in our own.” And the dreamseller added solemnly:

“I have thousands of shortcomings. I’ve made more mistakes than any of you can imagine, but Jesus’ philosophy and psychology is my model.” And he proposed founding a society of human beings without borders, based on just four principles:

To go beyond race, culture and nationality and position ourselves as humans without borders, with a vital commitment to protect man and the environment;

To fight discrimination in all its forms and support all forms of inclusion;

To respect the differences that make us unique;

And to promote interaction among people of different cultures and beliefs.

The dreamseller knew that his proposals shared the principles of the French Revolution, the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights and the Magna Carta of many nations. But the difference was that he dreamed of taking pages from those charters and printing that text within the hearts and minds of humans without borders.

“It’s too utopian,” I muttered to myself. But the dreamseller read my lips.

“You’re right. Nothing could be more utopian, imaginary, romantic. But take away the dream of utopia and we are left as machines. Take away hope and we are left as slaves. Take away dreams and we are left as robots. If business and political leaders thought in terms of humanity, two-thirds of the world’s problems would be solved in a month. And that’s no dream.”

I nodded my head, recognizing that he was right. I remembered all the times I had felt like a teaching machine whirring steadily for students who became learning machines.

The dreamseller seemed more fixated than ever. He measured his tone more than he normally did. Anyone could see this was a special day for him. And he seemed to have something important left to say. Then he told us the parable of the cocoon.

“Two caterpillars each spun a cocoon. In that protected atmosphere they were transformed into beautiful butterflies. Just when they were ready to fly free, their fears gripped them. One butterfly, being so fragile, thought to herself: ‘Life outside has so many dangers. I can be torn to bits and eaten by a bird.
If a predator doesn’t kill me, I might be torn apart in a storm. A lightning bolt could strike me dead. The rain could weigh on my wings and send me crashing to the ground. Besides, spring is ending. What if the nectar runs out? Who will help me?’ The risks were in fact many, and the little butterfly had reason to be scared. Frightened, she decided not to leave. She remained in her protected cocoon, but, having no means to survive, she died a sad death, starved, dehydrated and, worst of all, walled in by the world she had spun.

“The other butterfly,” he continued, “was also apprehensive. She was afraid of the world outside, knowing that many butterflies didn’t last a day outside the cocoon. But she loved freedom more than she feared the dangers that could befall her. And so she set off, flying in the direction of all the dangers. She chose to be a wanderer in search of the only thing that defined her essence.”

When he finished telling the parable, the dreamseller unveiled his intentions. He paused briefly to listen to the exquisitely beautiful birdsongs that seemed to be sung in his honor and made a series of simple yet profound requests. There were so many that I found it hard to take notes:

“I called you here so early because for two days I’d like you to go out and live the principles of being ‘a human being without borders.’ I’m sending you out in pairs into the social landscape. Take with you neither purses, money, checks, credit cards, nor food—nothing that provides survival support, only medicines and personal hygiene products. Eat whatever you’re offered. Sleep in the beds prepared for you. Discriminate against no one. If someone rejects you, don’t resist, treat him with gentleness. Act like social therapists. Give and receive. Don’t feel the need to win people over. Don’t defend your beliefs, don’t impose your ideas. Instead, emanate humanity. Ask those you meet on the road how you can be of help to them.
Talk to people, get to know their hidden stories, uncover dazzling human beings among the anonymous. Don’t look at them through your eyes but through theirs. Don’t invade their privacy, don’t try to control them, go only as far as they allow. Listen to them humbly, even those who are thinking of ending their lives, and encourage them to listen to themselves. If they manage only to listen to themselves instead of you, you have succeeded. Remember that the kingdom of the wise belongs to the humble.”

He paused and seemed concerned when he warned us:

“We’re living in the third millennium. Selling the dream of being a human without borders in a society that has reached the pinnacle of selfishness seems like the absurdity of all absurdities. Being true, generous and considerate when others ask it of us already seems like going beyond extraordinary; just imagine how difficult it will be to teach others to be this way when no one asks it of them. You’ll be called fanatics, lunatics, proselytizers. But if they accepted me, they’ll also accept you.”

Other than that, he offered no rules about how to approach people or whom to look for: rich or poor, educated or illiterate, city dwellers or those in rural towns. He gave us no map, only the inspiration to continue the journey. His hair blew in the wind, and we were dripping sweat. We were all scared of what awaited us. I thought to myself, “This isn’t going to work. We’ll be misunderstood, maybe even reviled. And what if I run into one of my colleagues from the university? What will they say about me?” The dreamseller added:

“There are many ways to contribute to the good of humanity, but none of them is easy, and none of them come with applause. People will be suspicious of your motives. You may be famous in the morning, and infamous by nightfall. You may be heralded one moment and treated like the dregs of society the next. The consequences are unpredictable. But I guarantee you that if you
overcome these obstacles, you’ll emerge much more human, much stronger, and able to understand what books can never teach you. You’ll understand, to some small degree, what millions of Jews experienced at the hands of the Nazis, Christians in the Coliseum, Muslims in Palestine . . . You’ll begin to understand the kind of oppression that homosexuals, blacks, prostitutes, the deeply religious and women have suffered throughout history.”

I thought to myself, “Letting Bartholomew and Dimas loose to represent the dreamseller without monitoring could be a disaster. It’s not that different from letting a medical student perform surgery without a supervisor.”

What the dreamseller was asking of us was to create a social laboratory unlike any I had studied in sociology. He didn’t want us to do charity work in Africa with financial backing, or give philanthropically to some institution, or to support a religion or a political party. He wanted us to return to our roots. We could take nothing with us, not even our prestige in society. We would have to be merely human beings connecting with other human beings.

He insisted that we had a right to choose.

“I encourage you to leave the cocoon at least this one time, but no one is obligated to do so. There are many risks, and the consequences are unforeseeable. The choice is yours, yours alone.”

The room shook with tension, but no one backed down from the dreamseller’s challenge, not even a pair of eighteen-year-olds near the front. Youth yearns for adventure, and they were ready to experience the journey.

W
HEN THE MEETING WAS OVER, HE SENT US OFF FOR OUR
two-day journey. Each took the person who’d been sitting on his right as his partner. He gave the women the option to sleep at home, but they all declined.

“We want the full experience. We choose to leave our cocoons for those two days,” Jurema said, speaking for the women. Four other people asked to be excused, though they promised to return on the appointed day.

Our results couldn’t have been more mixed. We were taken for thieves and kidnappers. We were rejected, ridiculed, threatened. Several pairs had to explain themselves at the police station. But in spite of everything, we had spectacular experiences. We enjoyed ourselves and learned so much. It seemed as if we were traveling in another society, that we had entered a completely different world, the world of “the other person.” Everyone said they felt totally insecure without money or credit cards. Sometimes we felt like a wandering people with no home, no country and no protection, wondering how we would survive from day to day. We were just humans and nothing more. The dreamseller’s sociological experiment proved that we were concealing our true humanity behind concepts like ethics, morality, titles, status and power.

Honeymouth, with Dimas as his partner, set off to sell dreams in the places he knew best, bars and nightclubs. He was met with countless hassles. Some threw vodka in his face, others humiliated him, some cursed him, and still others simply threw him out. “Get outta here, you drunk!” He lost his patience five times and threatened to punch two alcoholics. He began to realize just how difficult a calling this would be.