A dream come true?
Willy was a thirteen years old clever and curious boy. He was found of that kind of knowledge that makes you wonder "why". He desidered to go everywhere around the world to know new places and to meet different people. So he decided to start studying languages just to be able to fly towards his dream. While he was reading, he travelled with his mind; he often opened his atlas at a specific page and he began imagining all that a human mind can do about a far corner of our planet.
Through that coloured pieces of paper he saw the sky and its clouds, birds flying over oceans, trees and flowers. And then again rivers, woods, country roads, higstreets, skyscrapers, railway stations and airports, palaces and monuments, rich and poor people, black and white, red and yellow. He could touch each person, breath with them, cross streets and bridges. He descovered places, invented tours and met people. It was like he was at the top of the biggest mountain, but he saw everything moving not under his feet but over his head.
When he woke up, he often saw the sky become dark through the window: his dreams had taken hours, probably days or months, who knows? Which was the real time, the real sky, the true world? He didn't think physical things, material goods were "the" reality. His way to travel around, his paintings, his thoughts were as real as the floor he was stepping on.
Now William is forty-nine. He has travelled a lot, he has seen streets, airports, skyscrapes, woods, birds, and he has met many people. He's satisfied, but not happy. He now thinks that "his" was the world.
Did his dream really come true?
