—But What is Your Dream?

By: Gabriela Yareliz

It was a summer night, and the sun was still shining in the Upper West Side. I was impressed by how bright it was and how tired I felt. I had been looped into a late evening meeting at work and told I could take a car home (which I was grateful for).

Given the chaos and evening increase in population of the arts district, I decided I would call an Uber from a quieter location. I walked over to a local Mexican restaurant, away from the Opera and busy venues. I called my Uber from the bustling Mexican establishment, eyeing the tacos on the plates of the outdoor diners who were sweaty, inebriated and animated.

My Uber pulled up in two minutes, and I essentially pole vaulted myself in the back seat with my bags and large umbrella. I buckled up, and then, Mustapha made eye contact with me through the rear view mirror and said, “So you work at this restaurant, but what is your dream?”

I was startled by the assumption through my exhaustion. Maybe I looked like I had just worked a 12-hr shift? That aside— I smiled and asked him what his dream was. He told me my hesitation revealed to him that the job I had was not my dream. I tried to not react.

He never stopped talking in the whole ride. I am pretty extroverted, but let’s face it— I was wiped out and tired. I just wanted to stare at Manhattan in a blur out of my window.

That question did stay with me, though. When was the last time someone asked you what your dream was? And then nosily asked whether you are going after it hard?

When I asked him what his dream was, he told me “to make money.” I chuckled and told him, “that’s not a dream.” He laughed and said he wanted to own a restaurant. Maybe that’s why he assumed I worked at the restaurant?

As I stumbled out of the Uber with my bundles, I thanked him and said, “It was nice talking to you. I hope all your dreams come true.”

I hope your dreams come true, too.