Thursday, June 19, 2008

A quick dream

Afloat in grey mist, a canoe glides through still water. There is no end to the mist and the boatman is in no hurry to reach anywhere. What does one do when one is on a journey of one's dreams, except dream. Dreams do not particularly fare well all the time, amidst the silent shadows of reality. But dream on we must.

In me, I've found the most compulsive dreamer I've ever met. I dream by choice and by habit. It's my escape and my inspiration. It's the amalgamation of all my what could have been's and what can be's. It also the sole keeper of all my fears, my hopes, fantasies and frustrations. In it I see myself, as myself, alone and devoid of the artifice of the world around me. I see myself, because of what I am, not because of what the world has decided I should be.

Do I dream in words, sounds, images? I do not know. Do I only dream when I am asleep? Most certainly not. Do I dream only happy things? No. Sometimes, I dream the worst that can be, by choice. Just to make myself cry. When I am precariously balanced at the threshold of pain, then the ability to make myself cry is a big advantage.

People are not always mindful of other people. People are almost never mindful of me. Especially when I do not want them to be. I can fade away into the background without a whimper as if I am just another random pitch in the white noise of space. In such times, ignored by what is concrete, I dream about the abstract. I gaze at the space in front of me and reflect myself in the shards of my imagination. This blog post, is turning out to be one such shard. Nobody, absolutely nobody, at this moment, is particularly bothered about what I am doing. So, I am writing, in my dream.

Soon this illusion will break. Even real dreams or dreams that come true are illusions, and I always mourn the passing of the illusion. Much like dreams, mourning is not always sad. But that is the subject of another post.

So as I let this dream go with the hope of being led into another one again, soon, I am ready to have lunch. Why? Because I am hungry! Sadly dreams don't fill the stomach.


  1. Awww...why do your sound so forlorn chico?

  2. @ab: Hola Senorita! Nice to see you on my blog after a long time. Forlorn ... hmmm... a long time of longing makes one seem that way, I suppose.