Journey to Infinity

Prologue

Dreams are seeds planted in the garden of our imagination. Some remain dormant forever, waiting for rain that never comes. Others germinate slowly, growing with patience until they become strong trees that bear wonderful fruit. And a few—the most special ones—bloom with such intensity that they transform not only the dreamer, but the entire world.

This is the story of two brothers who dreamed of touching the stars. Not just once, but every night in their waking hearts, and one special night, together, in a way that would defy all explanation. It’s a tale about the mysterious connection between twins, about the power of imagination, and about how the greatest dreams begin with simple curiosity and grow through dedicated study and constant work.

More than anything, it’s a reminder that the universe is vast and infinite, but no larger than the dreams of a determined child. That the stars we see shining in the night sky are not as far away as they seem when we have the courage to reach for them. And that sometimes, the most extraordinary journeys begin in the most ordinary place of all: in the stillness of our own room, with eyes closed, dreaming of the impossible until it becomes inevitable.

The Brothers of the Stars

In a small town where houses pressed against each other on narrow streets and days began early with the sound of workers heading to their jobs, there lived a family that, although humble in possessions, was rich in love and aspirations.

The father, a man with calloused hands and a strong back, worked in construction. Every morning he left when the sun was just beginning to paint the horizon in pink colors, returning only when shadows lengthened and the day prepared to sleep. But no matter how tired he was, he always had energy for his children—to listen to their stories, review their homework, and marvel at their insatiable curiosity.

The mother was a seamstress, working from home on an old machine she had inherited from her own mother. The rhythmic sound of the machine was the soundtrack of the house—a constant reminder of honest work and dedication. Between stitches, she prepared simple but nutritious meals, kept the house tidy despite its small size, and found time to nurture her children’s minds with stories and questions that made them think.

And then there were the twins.

Mateo and Lucas, eleven years old, were identical in appearance but complementary in personality. Mateo, born first by barely three minutes, was the more outgoing one—the one who asked questions aloud in class, the one who raised his hand first, the one who shared every thought that crossed his active mind. Lucas was more contemplative, preferring to observe and process before speaking. But when he spoke, his words were measured and profound, revealing an understanding that often surprised adults.

But in one thing they were absolutely identical: their fascination with space.

It wasn’t a passing interest or a temporary phase. It was a passion that burned constantly, fueled by every book they read, every documentary they watched, every photo of the cosmos they could find. Their walls were covered with posters of the solar system cut from old magazines they had found in the library. They had notebooks full of drawings of planets, rockets, constellations—some copied from books, others imagined from their own creative minds.

Every Saturday, without fail, they walked together the eight blocks to the municipal library. It was a modest building, smaller than many houses, with shelves that creaked under the weight of books donated over decades. But for Mateo and Lucas, it was a palace of knowledge, a portal to infinite worlds.

The librarian, Mrs. Sofía, an older woman with silver hair and a perpetual smile, waited for them each week with new books she had set aside especially for them.

“Look what I found,” she would say, holding a worn book about astronomy or a star atlas with yellowed pages. “I thought you might like it.”

And they did like it. They sat in the corner of the library for hours, shoulder to shoulder, sharing the same book, pointing out fascinating discoveries to each other, whispering so as not to disturb other readers but unable to completely contain their excitement.

At school, their teachers knew them well. Not only because they were twins—something quite memorable in itself—but because their enthusiasm for learning was contagious and their knowledge about certain subjects far exceeded what was expected for their age.

Professor Rodríguez, their science teacher, often invited them to share what they had learned with the rest of the class.

“Mateo, Lucas, why don’t you tell us what you discovered this week at the library?”

And they would stand up, a little shy but clearly excited, and talk about Saturn’s rings or Jupiter’s Great Red Spot or the distance between Earth and the nearest stars. They spoke with such clarity and passion that even classmates who normally found science boring leaned forward, captivated.

“Someday,” Mateo had said once at the end of one of these presentations, “we want to be astronauts. We want to travel to space and see these planets with our own eyes.”

“And scientists,” Lucas had added. “To study the universe and help others understand it.”

Professor Rodríguez had smiled, with eyes that shone with something that might have been tears.

“You know what, boys? I think you will. If anyone can, it’s you.”

Their parents, although they hadn’t had the opportunity to study beyond elementary school due to the economic needs of their own families, completely supported their children’s aspirations.

“We couldn’t go to university,” their father would tell them while they ate dinner around the small kitchen table. “But you can. You will. And when you get there, you’ll study everything you can, learn everything you want, and become what you dream of being.”

“Even though we’re poor?” Lucas had asked once, with the brutal honesty of a child.

His mother had taken his hand tenderly.

“Son, being poor only means we don’t have much money. But we have something much more valuable: we have brains that work, hearts that dream, and hands willing to work. With that, you can achieve anything.”

And the twins believed it. Because every night, when they lay in their twin beds in the room they shared—a room so small that their beds, a shared desk, and a bookshelf with their precious books barely fit—they looked out the window toward the night sky.

And they dreamed.

The Night of the Shared Dream

It was a Friday night like any other. The twins had finished their homework, had dinner with their parents, and prepared for bed. Their father had entered their room as always, sitting on the edge of Mateo’s bed while their mother sat on Lucas’s.

“Good night, my space explorers,” their father had said affectionately, tucking the blankets around Mateo.

“May you dream of the stars,” their mother had added, kissing Lucas’s forehead.

“Dad,” Mateo had asked, “do you think we’ll really go to space someday?”

His father had paused, considering the question with the seriousness it deserved.

“You know what I think? I think if you keep studying as hard as you do now, if you never stop asking questions, if you never lose that curiosity that makes you special… then yes. Absolutely yes.”

“Even though we’re just kids from a small town?” Lucas had added.

“Especially because you’re kids from a small town,” their mother had responded. “Because you know what it is to work for what you want. Because you don’t take anything for granted. Because you appreciate every book, every opportunity, every moment of learning.”

After their parents left, turning off the light but leaving the door ajar as they liked, the twins stayed awake a while longer, as they always did.

“Mateo,” Lucas whispered in the darkness, “do you believe in dreams that predict the future?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… if you dream something very clearly, do you think it could be a sign that it’s really going to happen?”

Mateo thought about this for a moment.

“I don’t know. But I like to think so. I like to think that when we dream about space, the universe somehow knows, and is preparing us to get there someday.”

“That would be nice,” Lucas murmured, already sleepy.

“Yes,” Mateo agreed. “Good night, Lucas.”

“Good night, Mateo.”

And they fell asleep, not knowing that this night would be different from all the others.

The Dream

Mateo wasn’t sure exactly when he had fallen asleep. One moment he was awake, watching the shadows that the streetlight cast on the ceiling, and the next he was… somewhere else.

No, not somewhere else. In the same place, but different. Brighter. More real, somehow, even though he knew he was dreaming.

He found himself standing in his room, but Lucas was awake too, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Do you feel it?” Lucas asked, and his voice sounded clear and real.

“Yes,” Mateo responded, although he wasn’t sure what exactly he felt. He only knew that something extraordinary was about to happen.

Suddenly, without transition, they were in a car. Not their family car—one much bigger and more comfortable. Their parents were in the front seats, smiling. And next to them was Professor Rodríguez.

“Ready, boys?” their father asked, looking at them in the rearview mirror.

“Ready for what?” Mateo asked, although part of him already knew.

“To fulfill your dream,” their mother responded with a mysterious smile.

The landscape outside the windows changed with that fluid logic of dreams. One moment they were on familiar streets, and the next they were approaching a huge facility—giant towers, brilliant white buildings, and in the center, majestic and impossible, a space rocket pointing toward the sky.

“It’s… it’s Cape Canaveral,” Lucas whispered, recognizing the place from the photos in their books.

“Or something like it,” Mateo added, because although it resembled the photos, it was also bigger, more impressive, more real than any photograph could capture.

They got out of the car in a huge parking lot. Around them, there were scientists and engineers in white coats, trucks transporting equipment, giant screens showing countdowns and flight trajectories. The air vibrated with anticipation and energy.

“It’s even more incredible than I imagined,” said Mateo, spinning in circles trying to see everything at once.

Professor Rodríguez guided them forward, smiling at their evident amazement.

“We arrived just in time,” he said. “The launch is in an hour.”

He led them to an observation platform where there were dozens of people—other families, journalists, important officials. Everyone was looking toward the rocket in the distance, excitedly commenting on the mission.

The twins stood at the railing, with hands pressed against the cold metal, unable to take their eyes off the rocket.

“It’s beautiful,” Lucas murmured.

“It’s perfect,” Mateo added.

They stayed there for what seemed like an eternity and only a moment. And then, someone approached from behind them.

“Hello, young men. First time at a launch?”

They turned to find a tall man in a bright orange flight suit—a real astronaut, with mission patches on his sleeve and a kind smile on his face weathered by experience.

“Y-yes, sir,” Mateo stammered.

“We’ve been dreaming about this our whole lives,” Lucas added with more confidence.

The astronaut knelt to be at their height, studying their faces with genuine interest.

“Is that so? Tell me more.”

And so, under the sky that was beginning to fill with stars, the twins told him everything. About the books in the library, about their notebooks full of drawings, about their dream of someday becoming scientists and astronauts. They spoke with such passion and knowledge that the astronaut—whose name, they discovered, was Captain Torres—listened completely fascinated.

“You know what,” he said finally, “I think you belong up there as much as I do. And I have a slightly crazy idea. Do you want to come with me?”

The twins looked at each other, with huge eyes of disbelief.

“Come… on the rocket?” Mateo asked, barely able to form the words.

“On the rocket,” Captain Torres confirmed. “We have two extra seats on this mission, and I don’t know anyone more deserving than you two.”

Everything happened very quickly after that. There were forms that their parents signed smiling, although Mateo was quite sure the forms said impossible things. There were space suits that somehow fit them perfectly. There were quick orientations from other astronauts—Dr. Chen, Engineer Ruiz, Commander Morrison—all welcoming them as if they were colleagues instead of eleven-year-old children.

And then, before they could fully process it, they were boarding the rocket.

The interior was both exactly as they had imagined and completely different. There were screens everywhere showing data they could barely read but recognized from their books. There were hundreds of buttons and switches, each with a precise purpose. There were windows—small but perfectly clear—that for now only showed the darkening sky.

They were strapped into their seats, and Captain Torres explained each step of the launch procedure. The twins listened avidly, absorbing every word like sponges.

“Five minutes,” a voice announced from the speakers.

Mateo’s heart beat so hard he could hear it in his ears. He looked at Lucas, who was in the seat next to his, and saw his own amazement and excitement reflected in his brother’s eyes.

“Can you believe this is happening?” Lucas whispered.

“No,” Mateo answered honestly. “But I don’t want to wake up either.”

The countdown began. Ten, nine, eight…

The engines roared to life, a sound so deep and powerful that they felt it in their bones.

Three, two, one…

Ignition!

And then, they were flying.

No, not flying—they were being launched, pushed, propelled upward with a force that pressed them against their seats. They looked out the windows and saw Earth receding—first the buildings, then the cities, then entire continents becoming visible as they ascended higher and higher.

Mateo felt tears running down his cheeks, but not from fear. From pure joy, from absolute wonder.

Lucas was laughing, a sound of delight that bubbled from the deepest part of his being.

And then, when the engines shut off and gravity released them, they floated.

They floated.

It was the strangest and most wonderful sensation they had ever experienced. Their bodies were weightless. Loose objects—pens, tablets, even drops of water—floated around them as if they were in a magical aquarium.

“Welcome to space, boys,” said Dr. Chen with a smile. “What do you think?”

But the twins couldn’t answer. They were pressing their faces against the windows, looking out with silent reverence.

Earth.

Their home, seen from space.

It was a blue and white orb suspended in the black void, so beautiful it hurt to look at it. They could see clouds swirling over oceans, continents outlined by coasts, city lights beginning to shine where night was falling.

“It’s… it’s…” Mateo couldn’t find words.

“Perfect,” Lucas finished.

They traveled for what seemed like hours, though time in dreams is strange and fluid. The astronauts taught them everything—how to eat in zero gravity, how to move without accidentally pushing themselves in wrong directions, how to use instruments to observe stars and planets.

They gave them books and manuals, technical documents and star atlases. The twins devoured them, asking questions, taking mental notes of everything they saw and learned.

Their parents floated nearby, watching them with pride that was almost tangible.

“Look at our children,” their mother said, wiping tears of joy. “They’re exactly where they should be.”

Finally, after what could have been days or minutes, Captain Torres announced:

“We’re approaching our destination. Prepare for descent.”

Through the windows, they saw a planet approaching. It wasn’t Earth—it was smaller, with reddish and golden tones, with rock formations that rose like needles toward its pale pink sky.

The rocket descended gently, using thrusters to control the descent. They touched ground with barely a bump, and then they heard the sound of the hatch opening.

“It’s safe,” said Engineer Ruiz. “The atmosphere is breathable here. One of the few planets in this galaxy where you can walk without a helmet.”

They descended the ramp, and Mateo was the first to set foot on alien ground.

The ground was solid but soft, almost spongy, like walking on compacted sand. The sky above them was a shade of pink that didn’t exist on Earth, crossed by two twin moons—one large and white, the other smaller and bluish.

“It’s… incredible,” Lucas whispered, standing next to his brother.

And then, in the distance, they saw movement.

Figures emerging from behind rock formations. They walked upright like humans but were different—taller, thinner, with skin that glowed softly with iridescent tones that changed as they moved.

Mateo felt his heart race, but Captain Torres put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t be afraid. They’re friendly. They’re just coming to welcome us.”

The creatures approached, and when they were close enough, one of them—the one who seemed to be the leader—extended something that resembled a hand but with longer, more elegant fingers.

Captain Torres took the hand in a formal shake, and then the being turned to the twins.

Mateo and Lucas extended their hands simultaneously. The being took Mateo’s hand first, then Lucas’s, and when it did, the twins heard a voice in their minds—not exactly words, but thoughts, feelings, welcome.

“Welcome, little dreamers. We have been waiting for you.”

“Waiting for us?” Mateo thought, and somehow the being seemed to hear his thought.

“Those who dream of the stars eventually reach them. We knew it from the moment you began looking up.”

They walked together—humans and aliens—through the strange and beautiful landscape. The twins picked up precious stones that glowed with inner light, crystals that refracted light in impossible ways. They kept them in their pockets, knowing these would be the most precious memories of all.

The leader being guided them to a tall rock formation, and from the top, they could see the entire landscape stretching before them—valleys and mountains, rivers of something that wasn’t exactly water but flowed like it, forests of trees that grew in spirals instead of straight.

“Your planet is beautiful,” Lucas thought toward the being.

“And so is yours,” came the response. “All worlds are beautiful when you look at them with eyes that truly see.”

They spent what felt like hours exploring, learning, marveling. The beings showed them their technology—crystals that stored information, machines that ran on starlight, structures that grew instead of being built.

But eventually, Captain Torres told them:

“Boys, we need to get back to the rocket. We need to eat something, rest. Tomorrow you can explore more.”

Reluctantly, the twins said goodbye to their new alien friends, promising to return the next day.

Back in the rocket, they ate space food that was surprisingly tasty, floated in rest compartments that looked like sleeping bags suspended in air.

“Good night, explorers,” their father said, tucking them in just as he did at home.

“May you dream of the stars,” their mother added.

But they were already among the stars.

Mateo felt his eyes closing, exhausted from all the excitement. He heard Lucas yawn in the compartment next to his.

And as he fell asleep—dreaming within a dream—he thought he had never been happier in his entire life.

The Awakening

“Mateo! Lucas! Time to get up!”

Their mother’s voice penetrated the layers of sleep like a ray of light through water.

Mateo opened his eyes slowly, expecting to see the interior of the rocket, the blinking screens, Earth visible through small windows.

Instead, he saw the familiar ceiling of his room.

He sat up abruptly, disoriented, his heart racing.

“What…?”

In the bed next to his, Lucas was doing exactly the same thing, sitting up with confused eyes and messy hair.

They looked at each other.

“You dreamed…” Mateo began.

“The rocket,” Lucas finished. “And the planet. And the beings.”

“Me too!” Mateo exclaimed.

But before they could continue, their mother entered the room with a smile.

“Good morning, sleepyheads. Why are you so excited? I thought I’d have to drag you out of bed.”

The twins looked at each other again, communicating in that silent language that only twins truly understand.

“Mom,” Mateo said slowly, “I had an incredible dream.”

“Oh yes?” their mother sat on the edge of Lucas’s bed. “Tell me about it over breakfast. But hurry, or you’ll be late for school.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting around the kitchen table. Their father was already there, drinking coffee before leaving for work. The twins ate cereal mechanically, still processing what had happened.

“So,” their mother said, serving juice, “what was that incredible dream?”

Mateo took a deep breath and began to tell. He spoke of the rocket, the launch, space. He described zero gravity, the view of Earth from above, the strange planet with its pink sky and two moons.

Their parents listened attentively, smiling at his enthusiasm.

“We met beings from another planet,” Mateo continued. “They were tall and shiny, and they could speak with our minds. They showed us their world, and we collected precious stones, and it was… it was the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced.”

He finished, breathless, with eyes shining from the memory of the dream.

There was a moment of silence.

And then Lucas said quietly:

“I had exactly the same dream.”

Everyone at the table froze.

“What?” their mother looked between the two.

“Every detail,” Lucas said. “Captain Torres. Dr. Chen. The planet with the pink sky. The beings that spoke with our minds. The precious stones. Everything. Exactly the same.”

The parents looked at each other with a mixture of amazement and something that might have been slight fear.

“That’s… very unusual,” their father said slowly.

“Twins sometimes have special connections,” their mother added, “but dreaming exactly the same thing…”

“It’s a sign,” Lucas interrupted with sudden conviction. “It has to be.”

“A sign of what?” their father asked.

“That we’re meant to do it,” Mateo said, understanding exactly what his brother meant. “Meant to be astronauts. To travel to space. To explore the stars.”

Their parents were silent for a long moment.

Then, their father set down his coffee cup and leaned forward, looking seriously at his children.

“You know what, boys? I think you’re right. I don’t know if it was just a dream, or something more. But I do know this: you have the talent, you have the passion, and you have the dedication. If you keep studying as hard as you do now, if you never stop asking questions, if you work for it every day…”

“Then yes, one day you’ll go to space,” their mother finished. “Maybe not in exactly the way you dreamed. Maybe not so soon. But you’ll get there. God willing and if you work for it, you’ll get there.”

“We will,” Mateo promised with a determination his parents had never heard before in his voice.

“We’ll study harder than ever,” Lucas added. “We’ll learn everything we can. We won’t disappoint you.”

Their father stood up and walked around the table, putting a hand on each twin’s shoulder.

“You couldn’t disappoint us if you tried. You already make us proud every day. And now… now go and get ready for school. You have knowledge to acquire, universes to explore.”

The twins ran to get ready, still talking excitedly to each other about every detail of the dream, verifying that they really had dreamed exactly the same thing.

And as they ran out, their parents sat in the kitchen, looking at each other in amazement.

“Do you think it really could be a sign?” their mother asked quietly.

Their father reflected on this.

“I don’t know about signs. But I do know this: I’ve seen many children lose their dreams as they grow up. Life hits them, difficulties discourage them, and gradually they stop believing that the impossible is possible. But our children… they have something special. And if this dream—real or not—gives them even more reason to believe, even more motivation to work hard… then I think it’s a blessing, no matter where it came from.”

His mother nodded, wiping tears she didn’t know were falling.

“They’re going to do it, aren’t they? They’re going to reach the stars.”

“Yes,” their father said with absolute certainty. “I think they will.”

The Journey of Years

And he was right.

The years passed. Mateo and Lucas continued to be exceptional students, but now with an even more defined purpose. Every class, every book, every exam was one more step on the path toward the stars.

In high school, they excelled in mathematics and physics. They spent hours after class with Professor Rodríguez, who happily gave them increasingly complex problems, delighting in seeing how their young minds approached challenges that would make many adults retreat.

They won scholarships—first small ones, for science camps during the summer. Then bigger ones, for special programs at universities. Their parents, although they couldn’t contribute much financially, supported them in every way possible—making sure they had time to study, celebrating every achievement, consoling them during inevitable disappointments.

At eighteen, both received full scholarships to one of the best universities in the country, with world-class astrophysics programs.

The day they left for university, their parents took them to the bus station. Their mother had packed lunches for the trip. Their father had given each of them a small telescope he had been saving for months to buy.

“Remember,” their mother said, hugging them tightly, “no matter how far you go, how high you fly, you’ll always have a home here.”

“And remember that dream,” their father added. “The one you shared that night. Let it guide you. Because even though it was a dream, the feeling was real. The possibility is real.”

At university, the twins flourished. They majored in astrophysics, taking additional courses in aerospace engineering, planetary geology, astrobiology. They slept little, studied constantly, but loved every minute.

They excelled so much that they were invited to accelerated graduate research programs. They published articles in scientific journals when they were barely twenty-three. They were selected for internships at space agencies.

And then, when they were twenty-six, they received the letters they had been waiting for their entire lives.

Both—the two together, as if the universe knew it couldn’t separate twins who had dreamed together—were accepted into the astronaut training program.

They called their parents crying with joy.

“We did it,” Mateo sobbed on the phone. “We’re going to be astronauts.”

“We knew you would,” their father responded, his voice broken with emotion. “From that morning when you told us your dream, we knew.”

The training was brutal—physically demanding, mentally exhausting, emotionally challenging. But they had been preparing for this for fifteen years. They weren’t going to give up now.

Two years later, they graduated. Official astronauts. Doctors in astrophysics. Ready for the missions to come.

Their first assignment came when they were twenty-nine.

A research mission to the International Space Station. Duration: six months. And—in a twist that seemed too perfect to be coincidence—both twins were on the crew.

The Circle Complete

The day of the launch dawned clear and perfect.

Their parents were there, of course. Older now, with more gray hair and more wrinkles, but with the same bright eyes of pride they had always had.

Professor Rodríguez was there too, retired now but having traveled from his small town to see his favorite students reach the stars.

Mateo and Lucas put on their space suits—bright orange, exactly like in their shared dream from eighteen years ago.

They hugged their parents one last time before heading to the rocket.

“We love you,” their mother said. “We’ll always love you. Now go and do what you were born to do.”

The rocket was even more impressive than in their dream. Bigger, more complex, more real.

As they climbed the ramp, Lucas turned to Mateo.

“Do you remember the dream?”

“Every detail,” Mateo responded.

“Do you think… that it was just a dream?”

Mateo thought about this as they entered the rocket, as they were strapped into their seats, as they watched the verification procedures being performed around them.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “But I know this: dream or not, it showed us what was possible. It gave us a reason to believe. And now we’re here, about to make that dream come true.”

The countdown began.

Ten, nine, eight…

The twins held hands across the space between their seats, as they had done a thousand times as children when they were scared or excited or just needed to remember they weren’t alone.

Three, two, one…

Ignition.

And they flew.

The force of acceleration pressed them against their seats, but this time Mateo didn’t cry with joy. This time, he smiled—a quiet smile of satisfaction, of coming home, of a dream finally realized.

When they reached orbit and gravity released them, they floated exactly as they had in their dream.

And when they looked out the windows and saw Earth—their home, their planet, shining blue and white and perfect against the black void of space—Lucas said quietly:

“It’s exactly like I dreamed.”

“No,” Mateo corrected. “It’s better. Because this time it’s real.”

They spent six months in space. They performed experiments, repaired equipment, collected data that would help future missions. They looked at the stars not as dreaming children but as scientists, as explorers, as the astronauts they had always dreamed of being.

And when they finally returned to Earth, when they removed their helmets and breathed terrestrial air for the first time in half a year, their parents were there waiting for them.

They hugged them—longer, stronger than ever before.

“You did it,” their mother whispered. “You really did it.”

“Of course we did,” Lucas said. “We promised ourselves when we were eleven.”

“And twins never break promises,” Mateo added.

That night, at their parents’ house—the same small house where they had grown up, although now it seemed even smaller after months in the vastness of space—the four sat around the kitchen table.

And the twins told stories about space, about floating in zero gravity, about seeing sunrises from orbit, about looking down at Earth and seeing their small town lost in the immensity of the planet.

Their parents listened, laughing and crying and asking questions, marveling at the journey their children had traveled from that shared room with their books and star posters.

“Do you remember that dream you had?” their father asked eventually. “The one you shared when you were eleven?”

“Every detail,” the twins responded in unison, as they often did.

“Did you ever find out if it was just a dream?” their mother asked. “Or something more?”

Mateo and Lucas exchanged a look.

“You know what?” Mateo said slowly. “It doesn’t matter. Dream, vision, coincidence, destiny… it doesn’t matter what it was. What matters is what we did with it.”

“It gave us something to believe in,” Lucas added. “It gave us a goal. And then we worked every day for eighteen years to make it real.”

“That’s the real magic,” their father said, with eyes wet with tears of pride. “Not the dream itself, but what you did with it.”

And he was right.

Because in the end, Mateo and Lucas didn’t reach the stars because they shared a magical dream one night when they were eleven.

They reached the stars because they believed in that dream enough to work for it. Because they studied when others played. Because they persevered when others gave up. Because they never, not once, stopped looking up and wondering what might be possible.

The dream had shown them the way.

But it was their own feet—and minds, and hearts, and unwavering determination—that walked that path to the end.

And now, when small children in their hometown looked at the stars and dreamed of space, their parents told them about Mateo and Lucas.

The twins from the small town who dreamed of the stars.

And then reached them.

---

The Lesson: Dreams are the beginning of the journey, not the end. A dream, no matter how magical or inspiring, is only the first step. What comes after—the dedicated study, the hard work, the perseverance in the face of difficulties, the unwavering faith in possibility—that’s what transforms dreams into reality. The stars are not reserved for the lucky or the privileged. They’re waiting for anyone willing to work hard enough to reach them.