15 years ago, Langkawi, Malaysia
I got up and flip-flopped slowly to the common area of the guesthouse. I stared at the playing monkeys, ordered a beer, and wanted to shuffle back when a cupboard filled with books got my attention.
Left-behind-books. Given up by their previous owner. Waiting for a new one.
I browsed through them until I had one that was utterly worn out in my hands. It felt dirty. And yet it called to me.
It started with this sentence: “The boy’s name was Santiago.”
Before I finished my beer, I read the first pages. The sentences were short. The words were easy to understand. This book was there for me.
I returned to the giant hammock before my wooden cabin.
Safely hidden from the scorching sun, other backpackers, and the cruel world.
Only me and my depressed self.
And now this boy, Santiago, and his story.
A boy with dreams.
I kept reading, and several chapters later, I found myself choking up, tears in my eyes.
I was 25 years old. I doubted my profession; my relationship was over; I lived alone and did not know how to make new friends in a strange city.
But this boy, this boy called Santiago, had dreams.
What were my dreams? What made me happy?
I wanted to inspire people with my stories. To touch their hearts. I remembered the joy and excitement of giving presentations and speaking to groups.
The boy called Santiago followed his dreams. Over the sea. Through the desert. Through successes and failures.
What would I need to do for my dreams?
I turned around in my hammock. I cried. Not too loud; nobody needed to hear.
When I returned to the Netherlands, I applied for an introductory four-day training course in storytelling. I also became a member of a public speaking organization.
I was a boy with a dream.
And I followed that dream.
2023, Serooskerke, The Netherlands
I still dream.
My dream for these emails, called ‘Three Apples’, is to share my love of storytelling and stories with you. They will be both inspirational and practical.
My goal is to help you become a better storyteller.
It felt fitting to start with a bit of backstory about how I became a storyteller myself.
For me, it all started with a boy with a dream.
What are your dreams?
I too was moved by this book 25 years ago and hid my tears. Wonderful how those worn pages were destined to find you as his book is about being open to finding our destiny in unexpected places. An old Brazilian friend of mine once saw Coelho walking down the street in Boston and greeted him in Portuguese. Shocked he said “How did you know it was me?” My friend said “Ha! You of all people know how this works.”