The box.

Remember your dreams.

“Do you know what this is?” The old man stood there with a small box. There were no carvings on it and it looked to be made of Oak. I stood there across from him, staring at the small box with a look of intrigue. The old man knew I did not know, he opened it slowly and inside was nothing. Smiling as he looked to me, “What is in this box is our forgotten dreams.” I looked inside and then at the person behind it, the withered man was staring at me and smiling. I looked at him confusingly; he was insane I told myself.

“I don’t understand,” I told him, and he just started to chuckle, as if he knew what I was going to say. “What is so funny?” I asked him.

“I did not expect you to understand, but one day you will.” He left the conversation at that.

“My grandfather was a man of his dreams. He never accepted anything less and did not want to see anyone else forget theirs. My grandfather was an inventor, a risk taker, a businessperson and more importantly a family man. Pushing all of his children and grandchildren to follow their dreams and let nothing get in their way of happiness.” The crowd before me is staring and I am starting to feel uncomfortable as I can feel the tears starting to build. No one here understood this man as I did and in his death, they want to come here and act as if they were so close to him. My mind refers to the box in my pocket, given to me when I was younger by the man that is now in a box that will be sealed forever. It took me a long time to figure out what was really in the box, he said it was people’s dreams, but I found out what was in it.

Author's Note

It is a work in progress after my lengthy time of writer's block. I don't really know where to go from here and will probably add nothing more to it. Well, maybe I will, but I don't know what yet.