"Dreams, are
a waste of time, son."

As far as little Ben could remember,
his father was always saying it. 

"You have to be realistic, don't waste
your time thinking about stuff you can't do."

They were sitting around a big
table, and Ben was holding one of his toys.

Ben had always listened carefully to
his farther; but asked questions without fear.

"So, how will I know if I
can't do something, if I'm not trying to do it?"

His father laughed, as always, and
smiled to his son, stroking his long brown beard.

"You should try, but only
things you think you can do." His father explained.

"So thinking is a waste of
time?" Ben had replied.

He was confused. He put down
his toy and looked at his father with expectation.

"Why would it be a waste of
time?" He continued "I said dreams!"

"For example,” said Ben
nervously “sometimes, I think I can fly. It's like a dream, is it not daddy?"

His dad did not answer. Ben
felt like he had said something wrong.

"That's why I said 'realistic'
son, so that you will learn how to separate your abilities from your
dreams." 

Ben's toy fell of the table, making
a terrible crashing noise.

His dad walked away from his
son, with a sad look in his eyes. From then on Ben stopped
asking questions, there was nothing he hated more than seeing his dad upset.

Ben grew up; He started studying in
a college, and in a short time he made his father proud. 

He found a nice girl, and, well, Ben
was sure he was happy. 

As time passed by, Ben was able
to visit his dad less and less. On the occasions that he saw his father, age
became a factor and his most terrible fear was about to come true. 

Ben lost his mother when he was 6.
When he had asked his dad anything about her, his dad had always
answered the same way: "I dreamed we will die together, when you are old,
and have your own children. WE dreamed we'll live happily ever
after." 

Nothing more was ever said. 

Ben told his father about his every day life, but never the whole truth: That there was
something missing in his life. he could not realize what it was, but he felt it.

Ben wasn't suffering from sadness, but then again, he was never
really happy either. 

One day, Ben was talking to a professor of
his about tests that were coming a long, when suddenly his professor asked
him a different question, a question, Ben wasn't expecting at all.

"Are you happy here, Ben?" 

Ben's mouth was suddenly dry.

"I - I don't -" Ben hadn't
even finished his sentence when his professor said:

"I thought so." 

Ben was looking at him, saying nothing.

"How old are you Ben?"
asked the professor.

"19, Profe… "

"And what are you doing here? WHY are you here? And don't give me the 'my father', or 'my future' stories. You are 19!

Why are you wasting your time
on doing something you don't love, with a woman you don't even like? Oh, but she's
smart, isn't she? She isn't ugly, so why not?"  

Ben was overwhelmed, so he didn't
answer. 

"You should go and do what you
love Ben. Or you'll end up like me, living someone else's dream." 

His professor nodded and went away.
Ben stood without moving for another minute, then turned and went
home. 

That night his father felt really
bad. Ben took his dad to the hospital, but soon he was told it wouldn't last
long before he'll be gone forever.

Ben sat near his father's bed. He wasn't
crying. 

"Son," said his dad
quietly. Suddenly Ben felt as if
he were a little boy again.

"I was wrong."

Ben looked at him confused.

"Sometimes, dreams are all we
have left. If we don't dream, we don't live..." But Ben still couldn't understand.

"I am sorry Ben. You see, from
the moment I met your mother, I dreamed. I dreamed we will have a house
one day, and two or three children, and die together old and happy..." he smiled, tears glister from his eyes "And when she
died," His father coughed "I never stopped believing she was with
us. I was so mad at myself, but I couldn't help but dream and feel she didn't
really die. Even now, I have a part in me that believes we will be
together when i die... But I didn't want you wasting your time on dreams. I thought it would hold you back." his father smiled. 

"No matter what you do, son,
please," he was whispering. He
took his son's hand, and asked him "promise
me you'll never stop dreaming, no matter what." Ben didn't know how
to reply.

"I pro- promise dad." he
said with a trembling voice. A tiny, warm tear ran down his cheek.

His father closed his eyes, and said
nothing more, ever again.

But Ben, still believes, his father is with him, all the time.