The Death of Dream

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-Come and take as much dollar as you need but stop crying. I hate crying. I hate tears. I don’t want to see anymore tear in your beautiful eyes.

– Why do I take dollar from you. What do you think about me? Am I a beggar? I don’t want to take any dollar from you. 

– You tiny girl! But your sound is like the Himalayas. It seems to me that you are a little bit brave. But why are you crying? 

-I am not bound to tell you. You are not able to help me. You rich people think only dollar can solve every problem. Dollar is not the solution of every problem. Go to your road and please let me cry. I want to cry and cry. My forehead is burnt. I burned my forehead.

Mr. Patrick is astonished to hear the tiny girl. She seems to under ten. She may be more than ten because none can guess her age accurately to see her structure. She is a stolen girl.

Mr. Patrick comes out from his luxurious car. He is now very close to the girl. He gently asks the girl, What is your name?

The girl is now crying with low sound but she does not answer. She is crying like herself.

Finding no other way Mr. Patrick starts to cry.

The girl stops her crying for the time being.  She is surprised and asks Mr. Patrick, Why are you crying? Are you making fun with me. I am not a funny girl.

-I am crying a little bit for you.

-I have no need you to do that.

-At least tell me your name.

-My name is Dream.

-Dream! That is interesting. What is your father’s name?

– It is unknown.  I don’t know anything about him. My mother has never shared anything about him. Even she has not informed me Who  my father is and what his name is. So, how can I tell you my father’s name?

Dream starts crying again. Mr. Patrick is a little bit  nervous but he does not express himself. He asks Dream,

-What is your mother’s name?

Without giving answer Dream angrily asks,

– Are you a question man? Why are you asking me question one after another? I have forgotten everything.  Everything.

– Tell me your mother’s name.

– Death.

-Death! How is it possible? I have never heard this name. 

– Rich people like you are afraid of this word.You want to forget this word by spending dollars. But you won’t, will you?

Your dollar is not as true as death. Death is dead. My mother is dead. She is dead and a dead woman has no name.

– Your mother is dead and this is why you are crying. Now you need dollars. I want to help you.I want to give you dollars. 

-Oh! No, I do not need dollars . If l need l will not take dollars from you.

-But why?

-Simple. Very simple. You are arrogant. I hate arrogant people.

– Take dollar from me. I have enough dollars. l want to stop your crying.

-I need my father’ identity and my mother’s name. My mother’s life. Can you give me any of the two?

– No, no, no. I can’t. I can’t.

-Let me cry.

– Stop crying.

Mr. Patrlck threw dollars into the air.The dollars were flying but could not touch neither the sky nor the tears of Dream.

Mr. Patrick is walking as if he were  mad. He utters some words but these are not clear.