The Dreamseller: The Calling Read Online Free PDF

but one who was a thought-provoking adventurer, a dissenter from conventional wisdom, free to chase new thoughts. And this man had made him the craziest and most exciting of proposals: to sell dreams. “How? To whom? To what end? Will I be praised or mocked?” the intellectual wondered. He also knew that all great thinkers must travel unexplored paths.
    Julio had always been sensible and had never made a scene in public—not until he climbed to the top of this building. He knew this time he had caused an uproar. It hadn’t been for show; he really was going to end his life. He was afraid of using a gun or taking pills, so he’d come to the top of the San Pablo Building.
    But the dreamseller’s invitation continued to echo in his mind like a grenade blowing apart all the concepts he held true. A long minute passed. Conflicted, he thought, “I’ve tried to live my life sheltered in the life of academia, but it failed me. I tried to challenge my students to think for themselves but instead taught them only to regurgitate information. I tried to contribute to society, but sealed myself off from it. If I manage to sell dreams to a few people, as this stranger has sold to me, maybe my life will have more meaning than it has had until now.”
    And so I decided to follow him. I am Julio, this extraordinary stranger’s first disciple.
    He became my teacher. And I, the first to agree to this unpredictable journey with no set course or destination. Crazy? Maybe. But no crazier than the life I had been living.

The First Step
     

     
    A S SOON AS WE LEFT THE SCENE WE WERE STOPPED BY ONE of those closely watching us at the top of the building, the police chief. He was a tall man, about six-foot-three, and slightly overweight, impeccably dressed, graying hair, smooth skin and exuded the air of a man who loved power.
    When we stopped in front of him he barely noticed me. He was used to dealing with suicides and considered them weak and damaged. To him, I was just another statistic. I could taste his bitter prejudice and I hated it. After all, I was much more learned than this gun-toting buffoon. My weapons were ideas, which were more powerful and more effective. But I didn’t have the strength to defend myself. And I didn’t have to. I had a torpedo at my side, the man who had saved me.
    The policeman was really interested in grilling the dreamseller. He wanted to know more about this character who fell outside of his statistics. He hadn’t been able to hear much of what we said, but the little he heard had amazed him. He studied the dreamseller from head to toe, unable to reconcile the image. The stranger seemed alien to his surroundings. Uneasy, he began his interrogation. I guessed that, like me, the policeman was about to step into a hornet’s nest. And he did.
    “What’s your name?” he asked in an arrogant tone.
    The dreamseller studied him for just a second, then said:
    “Aren’t you happy this man changed his mind? Aren’t you simply overwhelmed with joy at knowing this man’s life has been saved?” And he gazed at me.
    The policeman lost his footing on his pedestal. He hadn’t expected his insensitivity to be laid bare in a few short seconds. He stammered, then said in a formal tone, “Yes, of course I’m happy for him.”
    The dreamseller had a way of making any man realize his insensitivity. He made them see how foolish they were acting. And then he launched another torpedo:
    “If you’re happy, why don’t you show your happiness? Why don’t you ask him his name and tell him how glad you are? After all, isn’t a human life worth more than this building?”
    The police chief was stripped naked more quickly than I was, and it was perfect. The dreamseller won back my self-esteem. He was a thought-provoking expert. Watching him rattle the police chief, I started to understand: It’s impossible to follow a leader like this man without admiring him. Admiration is stronger than power, charisma more intense