My tryst with dream

I am not a dreamer. No, I am not meaning that I do not have wishes that sound like dreams. I have plenty of them. I mean, I do not dream when I sleep. Sometimes when I am awfully sick, I get what one might call nightmares. Like someone abducts me, puts me in a small box with my hands and ankles tied. I am bathing in sweat inside the air-tight box and could barely emit any audible sound, let alone screaming for help.

I almost always had dreamy nights as a small boy. A couple of them, which repeatedly filled my nights. The first one offered me wings, which when flapped will make me airborne. Interestingly the wings needed some take-off run. I never figured why. But I never had time to think as someone was always behind my life. And the other dream always gave me money (only coins) whenever and wherever I dug the ground.

A lot has been said about dreams as to why they come and what they mean. In my opinion, dreams reflect one's state of mind when he/she is not sleeping. Or may the dreamer's recent thoughts. That's probably why I found only coins and not currency bills. A small boy needed only little money to buy things that he needed. Hence, coins would suffice. A newer version of that dream would definitely bring a blank cheque written on my name when I dug open the ground.

I am tempted to say that dreams one get might have something to do with how interesting a person is. This statement, unfortunately puts me in the most-boring category. I am afraid that all the years I spent at school studying science has probably taken away my imagination. I seek reason in everything that happen around me. Even in things as subtle and natural as why a girl is possessive. Well, when this happens, you know something is clearly wrong. In my case, I lost my imaginative sense. It must have been a smooth transition. Because I do not remember when this really happened or started to happen. In any case, my dreams as though to punish me for this gave up on me.

As I take time and give it a serious thought, things appear to be clearer. It's I, who deserted my dreams. It's I, who decided not to dream; who wanted to be a so-called rational man; who thought dreams are not for a man who has confidence in himself; who thought dreaming was child's act.

What happened today is pleasing. I dreamed. Yes, you heard me right. I dreamed for real (!) during my Sunday afternoon siesta. It's like being born once again.

The dream is about a special space ship that promises to take me from a foreign land to my country on a small boy's recommendation. I am offered a ventilated room in the layered space ship. They warn me about the danger of being tossed about in air; of being torn apart by the fiercesome air in and out through the openings. Nevertheless, I accept the offer and we take off. The vehicle was too fast, even for a dream. It was fast and period. In a jiffy, we land. During the flight, I had lost everything in the turbulence that took place in my cabin, except my clothes I had on me. I check my new sneakers. They are alright and I am happy they are. I ask about our whereabouts. "Hold your breath - we are in Africa.", comes the reply.

And that's where I woke up and the dream ended. I badly wanted this one to go on. But you know, you are only as lucky as the dreams want you to be. Things work in a different way here. You are nothing but a puppet here. You can't control things as you do in real life. That's dream for you.

Meanwhile, I am hoping that my second stint with dreams will continue. Hope - well that's all I can do and that's about how much control I have over them.