About My Little Dream

 

‘Go to sleep my son let your dreams roll,’

I heard my mother say while she ran her fingers,

Through my hair;

‘Do not stop those dreams, they will tell you about your tomorrows’ that would be as pleasant as today,’

She insisted.

Why do all mothers insist, I do not know.

I obeyed and was soon asleep.

Did I wait for my dreams to roll I cannot confirm, but dream that night I did.

I found myself alone on a deserted road that led me nowhere. I looked around and found no trace of those who had travelled before me and, I was confused. I could not decide whether I should leave my trace or not.

I began my upwards stroll, past several thorny bushes but roses were not amongst them. I liked rose flowers, pink or red.

Soon, I walked past a group of three persons brilliantly dressed sitting on a wayside jutting rock; I heard, one of them call me. I stopped and retraced my steps.

The one in the green jacket and cap was who made me walk back; he did not enquire my name; he politely asked me to be watchful on the road, the road he said wasn’t safe. I assured him I would.

Then the one wearing the yellow coloured silk kurta spoke, he asked me to trust my eyes and ears, that is, on my perception abilities. I assured him I would.

The third wearing a white shirt and grey pant told me not to ignore my inferences I wondered why. Much later, I learnt that mental and verbal exchanges and reactions are verily inference-based. Then, I was too young to understand these implications.

Next, I was standing atop a volcano; it spewed lava whose heat did not sear me. I saw the earth heave and boil in anger. I was scared. I shut my eyes tight. Have I reached a gate of Hell, I seriously thought.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a lush green meadow. I remembered my father bringing me here often, only this time I was alone, and there was a raging bull stomping the grass furiously. How could I be its target, we had never met before, even once. I did not run away.

At the far end of the road, I saw people gathered. They were admiring a puppeteer play his puppets enact a funny skit. There was laughter in the air and much merriment. It was my tomorrow in wait for me.

I heard my name called. My mother wanted me to come awake.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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