By Nate Fisher

In Matthew Masters’ dream, there are horses. A stable full of thoroughbreds anxiously await their next race, the ring of the bell, the shucks of the starting gate. Their muzzles snort mist in the cold hay. In the dream, he knows he wants this for himself, on land he owns. It’s getting dark in Missouri, and the way the night looks out here, it’s almost as if the sky has grown wider. He always jokes with the closest neighbors when he sees them and says something about how flat a Southern Illinois sky can be.

It’s been a long day. All this week, he and his crew of linemen have been installing underground cables for a new subdivision. The new guy has been working out well, though the guys have been breaking him in with their character-building humor. Matthew thinks back to his time at Meridian and the teachers that would take the time to form a personal connection with him and his classmates. They had always learned better that way, and the new guy was quickly picking up for the same reason.

The crickets start their song, and he raises the shutter to a shed near the back of his property, close to the silver maples he planted when he first moved here. It’s been a good while since those years growing up in Villa Ridge and a long time since he walked the halls of Shawnee Community College. Has it really been that long since his welding certification? He once again feels grateful for the “Fast Track” program at Meridian that allowed him to take courses for college credit through SCC while still a high school student.

He turns on the lights in the shop, puts on his gloves, and lowers the visor of his welding helmet. The torch glows to life, spitting sparks across the tabletop. The flicker of dark blues and oranges dance in front of him, and he hears nothing but the hiss of acetylene; This is his zone of comfortable purpose. He thinks of his dad, who welded on barges for CGB Waterfront, and how satisfying it feels to hold something of that size together with your craftsmanship.

Welding is a highly personal craft, and that’s why he likes it. The heat meets a surface, and that surface reacts. There’s no division there, unlike some technology that disappoints him. Though he uses it for work, he tries to keep his phone use limited, as he still believes all that information at your fingertips has caused more ill than not. Instead, he focuses on seeing people in person, surrounding himself with those who appreciate socializing offline.

In the dream, managing his congenital heart defect with daily medication and a possible surgery is an afterthought. It’s never stopped him from pursuing his career. The center of the welding flame simmers white, a robust heat core surrounded by a nurturing cone of blue-violet.

It’s this last image that sticks with him as he wakes up. Matthew starts to think about the school day ahead, scraps of the dream still dabbling in his mind. He has a speaking competition for FFA today, and he’s determined to take first prize. Before the pressure of routine takes over his thoughts, he considers a possibility: Was it only a dream? Or could it be a sneak preview of things to come? That’s in Matthew’s hands, but we have to say, fusing your goals with reality should come relatively easy to someone who wields an acetylene torch.