Child

Today, for the first time in my life, I saw a child in my dream. It wasn’t someone else’s child—it was mine.

In the dream, I was with my wife, and we were in love. The child looked to be around two years old. He had a square-shaped face, just like I did when I was little—a boy, I think.

I traced the outline of his face with my fingertips, gently tickling him. He laughed brightly.

The child was lovely, and the wife lying beside me was beautiful. But when I woke from the dream, I didn’t feel lovely or beautiful at all.

I often have dreams that are this vivid. It only happens when I’ve spent an entire day so immersed in something—working for 10 to 12 hours straight, skipping meals, pouring everything into one single focus.

When I empty all my energy in front of a computer, I always fall into a deep and vivid sleep.

When I woke, it was already close to noon. I turned on my voice recorder and recorded the dream.

I had never dreamt of a child before, so I recorded this one in more detail than usual.

As beautiful as the child was, what truly stood out to me was how beautiful my wife looked.

She was stunning.

In my life, I’ve only truly loved two people enough to imagine marrying them.

But during those times, when I loved someone deeply enough to consider marriage, I was always at my lowest—my most insignificant.

Perhaps I saw them as people who could fill the emptiness in my life. I leaned on them, after all.

Ironically, during the times when I felt no love and was emotionally empty, meeting people was surprisingly easy.

When my mind and life were crumbling under the weight of the world, it was oddly effortless to meet many people.

But even while meeting others, I still felt hollow inside.

Whenever I truly loved someone, my sense of priorities would fall apart.

I pursue grand things in life, but I’m also deeply aware that those things aren’t what make life special.

Life is like a stage where we dance a short dance before we leave.

If I’m going to dance, I want to dance with people who truly enjoy dancing with me.

That stage doesn’t need to be grand or glorious.

It just needs to be filled with laughter, joy, and people I can have fun with.

And maybe—from far beyond that stage—the woman who appeared in my dream is watching me now.

Because I am, after all, dancing on a stage of my own making.

The English name I chose for myself—Joseph—comes from the biblical Joseph.

Joseph was someone who could read dreams.

Because of that gift, he rose to the position of prime minister and saved many lives.

I wonder if the dreams I have might be like his.