When dreams come true

There was a drizzle in the sky, and the cold wind kept blowing, and the dead leaves of the sycamore fluttered in the wind, falling all over the ground. In times of misery like this, I always like to call home. Mother said that it has been snowing in my hometown since yesterday, and the snow on the ground is about two inches thick now. They are sitting by the fire watching TV. Lotte Poem said, "I want to sit at home late at night, and I should talk about people who are far away." Maybe they are talking about me while watching TV. My father talked about returning to work in his hometown after graduation. Let's talk about it when the time comes. I always do it perfunctorily. Probably parents always want their children to be around and live a stable and happy life, but for me, maybe when I live in other places, I can always rebuild my hometown with my own memory and imagination, so that she has a warm feeling. breath. But if I really want to go back to my hometown to live, maybe I'll get bored and can't stand her backwardness and ignorance. Maybe people always live in other places like this. When you are about to move towards something, there will always be a force from reality that makes you hesitate.
Maybe people always have to wander between reality and dreams, swaying, until a certain opportunity arises. Thomas Searle, his mother was a pianist, and his father was a man who lived a luxurious life by collecting rent. After the death of his mother, Thomas, who once loved music and was considered to have a talent for the piano, became a debt collector for a living. His occupation was to disturb other people's lives, let snakes, disturb people's dreams, and destroy living facilities to force people to submit. . He also seems to be enjoying a life full of excitement and violence.
But those rhythms that have been forgotten by our hearts are actually only deposited in a certain corner of the heart over time, like seeds deeply buried in the soil, as long as they meet the right temperature and moisture, they will germinate one day.
By chance, Thomas met his mother's agent, and he promised to give Thomas a chance to watch. Thomas's inner rhythm was touched by this sudden opportunity. From then on, everything in reality became illusory to him. In the Mercedes-Benz car, in the noisy bar, at every moment, the once forgotten rhythm was like the flood of the Yellow River. Packing up, let his life regain meaning.
But the death of his father brought him back to reality from the world of music. Later, before his girlfriend's piano concert, he discovered the murderer of his father. He fought with him to the death, but gave up killing him at the last moment and returned to the performance hall. The rhythm of the music slowly calmed him down.
When we are polished by reality closer and closer to the "father" who symbolizes reality and away from the "mother" who symbolizes dreams, those inner rhythms can free us from trivial or even boring reality and find a new back to self.
It has been said that we and our dreams are like a tree and its reflection in the water, and what makes us miserable is that we fall in love with the reflection. Maybe people always have to hesitate between reality and dreams, swaying left and right, just like we always have a difficult choice between father and mother.
In the shadow of reality, probably only by virtue of those rhythms that have been forgotten by us from the heart, can we find the light of life in the dark.

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