Amidst the time-worn streets of Sherford, lived an old man who was famous for selling dreams. People would gather around his cafe and would wait in long queues to have a sip of his magical sherbet.

It was rumoured that when one drank the sherbet, they dozed off and saw their deepest desires in their dreams as being achieved. Everyone had a different review of the old man’s sherbet. Some said it tasted bitter, but some said it was sweet as honey.

The sherbet dubbed as the ‘taste of one’s dream,’ intrigued me, so I also started saving money to buy that magical sherbet. After saving up from quite some time, I finally counted the money and it was enough to taste the sherbet.

I went to Safeer, my close friend who was supposed to accompany me.

“I am not coming with you!” Safeer said.

“Why not?” I was shocked to know that.

“I have heard terrible things about that place, Asim. I heard my dad talking about Uncle Rasheed, who quit his job and now spends all his time at that café, always lying and talking weird and senseless stuff,” Safeer replied in serious and concerned tone.

“A grown-up man quits his job for that magical sherbet? What is so special about it, we should check it out ourselves!” I said, while hoping that it would make him change his mind.

“I do not know. All I know is that this magical sherbet has ruined families. So I am not interested in it at all,” he said.

I was dejected, but then I thought I should go and check myself. So I walked to the old man’s café. As I reached the café, outside by the door, I saw a frightening looking dog who didn’t bark, but meowed.

Strange indeed, I thought to myself. As I entered the cafe, to my surprise there were no chairs, it had a carpet and cushions setup. And a few men sleeping. There were weird paintings that made no sense, a gigantic clock adorned the wall, but something was peculiar about the clock as it was upside down. Nothing really made sense here.

At one corner was a small table, where I saw that old man sitting on the cushion. He grinned, showing his yellow teeth.

“Young man, you must be here to taste you dreams!” he said while examining me.

Placing coins on the counter I asked him “How much for a dream?”

He winked at me as he replied, “It depends upon the dream.”

“Well I have always thought dreaming is for free and it’s ironic that you charge your customers for their dreams,” I said, smirking at the man.

“Nothing is for free. You are supposed to pay a heavy price for all the dreams you see, but I am selling you one cheap today,” the old man explained while pouring the magical sherbet in one of the golden bowls.

I stood there looking at him while he continued mixing the sherbet. “I must warn you about taking this sherbet, my child. You are quite young to be here, and I am worried you’d be addicted to it!”

“What do you mean?” I questioned.

“Look around you. What do you see?” he said while twirling gracefully around the counter.

I looked around and saw those men soundly asleep. I spotted Uncle Rasheed in them. He was lying on the floor, the man who was always concerned about his status and money was asleep on the ground. What a strange sight it was!

“They are all here because they have given up on their dreams. They visit this place every day to taste their dreams, but they won’t work hard or make some effort to achieve them.

“It is a wonder in itself to see yourself at a place you always wanted to be, things you always want to possess. Yes, it is a marvel to have it all while your eyes shut, but they lack the will to strive for it in actual life. They are only here to enjoy the luxuries and their dreams,” he sighed.

The sherbet was ready, I assumed, as he placed the golden bowl in front of me. I could see my reflection in it. I extended my hand to hold that bowl, but I stopped midway. Something stopped me from inside. I turned and saw all the people laying there dreaming.

“I won’t drink it,” I said.

“I will not have a taste of my dreams until and unless I strive for it. I don’t want artificial happiness merely for a few minutes or hours. I’ll work hard and achieve what I want,” saying this, I turned and walked out of the café with a renewed energy that I never felt before in myself.

It’s a lesson for all of us — there are no shortcuts in achieving our dreams. One must work hard to make their dreams a reality.

Published in Dawn, Young World, August 3rd, 2024