Dreams are beautiful. They go beyond your imagination and create a world so special that you start living in it. I was a dreamer once, so am I today. I still have the same dream that I once did as a young boy. The problem is that I grew but my dream did not. I always wanted to be an artist. I love colors, shades, the lines, and the smooth texture of canvas which gave life to what seemed to be a lifeless picture.     It all began in a boring math class. I never liked numbers as they never made any sense to me. For me, they never spoke a word. I started making ducks out of 5s and watermelons out of 0s before the math teacher caught me! The first time Mr. Potter warned me. But I could hardly sit through his classes. He caught me drawing once again in his class and that was it. My parents were called. Those days, they believed that painters and artists were drop outs who could not find any job. This was not the end. They told my parents that I would fail miserably if I were to take up arts. This upset them more than me. My father was a reputed professional and he expected me to become like him one day. He never understood why I could see ducks where others saw 5. I tried explaining it to him, but I guess he did not understand it.     “Those lines and shades you talk about do not exist,” he said. I did not understand where these numbers existed. He wanted me to graduate and take up a good job while I wanted to live my dreams. The fight went on. On a few occasions, my precious easel would be broken and thrown away. I had such a difficult time getting them. He was not like this earlier. He always used to get my favorite sketch books when I was young. I guess after that meeting with Mr. Potter, he changed into a different man.     “A few dream to fly, a few to protect the country and a few others to work in a decent job. What if I dream of colors and brushes?” I asked my father when I had the courage to do so. “Fly, if you want to, you will reach the sky. Protect the country, if you want to, you will make me proud. But you cannot take up what the drop outs choose to do. You cannot paint. You cannot make a living out of it,” stood out his words.     I wanted to get into the prestigious Sir Francoire Arts College and learn art, the way experts did. But there seemed to be no way to it. I later studied numbers and took up a job. I still live with the same dream -- To be an artist, to live, and dream like one!4Select the correct answer from the drop-down menu.Read the passage. Then choose the correct way to complete the sentence.The conflict between the narrator and his father creates tension about why the narrator did not .