“I Had a Dream”

It was March when he stood along the sea of people: a sea of people that stood here for hours but as still and patient as silent waves. Among the crowd, there was a faint smell of anticipation and hope.

Then, the loudspeaker crackled to life, a solemn voice rolling out. Even though he couldn’t see him from where he stands, he could feel him; all of them did.

At first, the voice talked about the Emancipation Proclamation. Just like his father used to do, the lies of the promises America has made and broken. As if this story brought back painful memories, murmurs and whispers started. The woman next to him was holding a handkerchief, dipping her eyes as she nodded.

The voice then spoke of the segregation that they had endured for a hundred years, and suddenly, the manacles of inequality had become heavy on his wrists. He thought of his lifetime living under the shadows of white citizens, shops with “White Only” signs were forbidden land, and stepping off the sidewalk became a habit.

Then the mood shifted. “I had a dream,” the voice said. The first time, it was a statement. “I still had a dream.” He repeated later on. By that time, the crowd could no longer sit still, caught in the current. Distant cheering could be heard getting louder and louder.

The voice had painted pictures and showed possibilities to him that never seemed possible. But the way the voice had said it, it was like sucking in all the pain and exhaustion they had felt and forging it into a new light of hope. Now, it was shown so clearly; it was all he could see behind his tear-brimmed eyes.

It is a dream that can come true. He beamed as the crowd roared and called for freedom. The sea of people now swayed with energy now charged from the streamed down his cheeks like many others, and for the first time in decades, he believed like many others.