David's Dreams vs. His Dad's Expectations

David learned early that dreams could be loud inside the heart and silent in the house. His dream spoke in colors, melodies, and restless nights filled with sketches and half-written songs. His father’s expectations, however, were firm, practical, and spoken aloud every morning at breakfast like a daily prayer: Finish school. Get a good job. Be secure.

Mr. Okoye had worked for over thirty years as a civil servant. He believed deeply in stability because instability had once nearly broken him. He grew up poor, watched opportunities slip away, and promised himself that his children would never suffer the same fate. To him, success was simple and respectable—law, engineering, medicine, or any profession that guaranteed a monthly salary and dignity in society.

David was seventeen when he realized that his father’s vision for his life did not include his own. While his classmates talked about entrance exams and professional courses, David dreamed of becoming a filmmaker. He loved stories—the way emotions could be captured on screen, the power of light, silence, and sound. At night, after finishing his homework, he edited short videos on his old laptop, teaching himself through free tutorials and pure determination.

One evening, his father walked into his room unannounced and saw the screen glowing with images instead of textbooks.

“What is this?” his father asked, pointing at the laptop.

“It’s a short film I’m working on,” David replied carefully, his heart racing.

“A film?” His father frowned. “Is this what you do instead of studying?”

“I study, Dad. I just—this is what I love.”

Love, to Mr. Okoye, sounded dangerous. “Love does not pay bills,” he said sharply. “You will study engineering. I’ve already spoken to your uncle about it.”

That night, David lay awake staring at the ceiling, feeling torn between gratitude and suffocation. He loved his father and respected his sacrifices, but the thought of living someone else’s dream felt like slowly disappearing.

The tension grew as David’s final exams approached. His father bought engineering textbooks and spoke proudly to relatives about his son, the future engineer. David smiled politely, but inside he felt like a fraud. He began skipping meals, lost focus, and even his films felt heavier, filled with characters trapped in small rooms.

His mother noticed first. One afternoon, she found David sitting alone, staring at nothing.

“Talk to me,” she said gently.

“I don’t know how to be the son he wants,” David whispered. “And I don’t know how to stop being who I am.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder but said nothing. She knew this battle was between father and son, past and future.

The breaking point came when David secretly submitted one of his short films to a youth film competition. Weeks later, an email arrived. He had won second place, along with a small scholarship and an invitation to a film workshop in Lagos.

When his father found out, he was furious. “You went behind my back!” he shouted. “You are throwing away your future!”

For the first time, David did not retreat into silence. His voice trembled, but it did not break. “No, Dad. I am choosing my future. I don’t want an easy life. I want a meaningful one.”

The room fell quiet. His father looked at him, truly looked at him, as if seeing not a child but a young man standing at the edge of his own life.

Days passed without conversation. Then one evening, his father called him to the sitting room. On the table lay the certificate from the competition.

“I was afraid,” his father said slowly. “Afraid that the world would hurt you. Afraid you would struggle the way I did.”

“I know,” David replied. “But I need to try.”

His father sighed deeply, the sound heavy with years of responsibility. “I cannot promise I understand your dream,” he said. “But I see that it is real.”

It wasn’t full approval, but it was a bridge.

David went on to attend the workshop. His journey was not smooth, and his father still worried, still advised, still questioned. But slowly, pride replaced fear. The day David’s first documentary was screened publicly, his father sat in the front row.

As the lights dimmed, David realized that dreams and expectations do not always have to destroy each other. Sometimes, they just need courage, patience, and the willingness to listen.

Image generated using my prompt on ChatGPT

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