It’s not that Kenny had dreamless nights. His sleep was richly filled with imaginary worlds and events and people.
But he didn’t have the typical ambitious dreams, either day or night. He didn’t hope for world domination. It never appealed to him. And he could see ahead, too—the inevitable downfall that comes from invading Russia in the winter. But it wasn’t really that. He just had no interest in world domination.
Wealth didn’t float his boat either. Sure it would be nice to erase those debts. He knew his estate would still be making payments after he died. But money is boring. And the hunt for it is tiresome. Kenny just couldn’t work up the enthusiasm.
Fame didn’t do anything for him either. Once he was interviewed by a reporter. He was on TV and all his friends called him. If being a momentarily visible “man on the street” was annoying, how much worse would actual ongoing fame be? Kenny preferred not to find out.
His mom was always calling him, asking him when he find a nice girl and settle down. But women? Yeah, Kenny had the same hormones coursing through his body as most young men his age. But he wasn’t all that interesting in women. They’d just try to change him and who wants that? No, women weren’t his dream. Sorry, mom.
But he did dream of one women. She was petite and somewhat reserved, and yet she filled a room. She’d bake him blueberry muffins and they’d be burnt but to Kenny they were delicious. They’d look at clouds together and she’d make up stories and he’d never forget them, even years later. And when she left the room, Kenny would be lost in darkness and afraid.
This was Kenny’s dream, this simple yet complex and captivating women. He felt certain that someday he would find her, at least in his dreams. He might just need to settle for that.