cheerful

The Dream
...The dream surrounds me. It has become my life.It drives with me in the morning when I leave my house and get into my car to go to my office. My house, my car, my office. My daily dream.It is tenacious, this dream. It drives back with me in the evening when I leave my office and get into my car to return to my house. It does not leave me alone. It fills up my senses. It drives me crazy… this dream.In this dream I dream other dreams. I dream of not being in this dream. Of being in some other dream. In that other dream, I dream, I would not have to dream other dreams any more. I would be happy to live in that dream, the other dream, because then I would be out of this dream. ...In the morning of that arising everything seemed fresh and different. The air breathed a new scent and the light wore a new colour. I saw with new eyes. My blinking had become different. The texture of the hair on my chest had altered. I groped with my hands into space that was unfathomable.In the morning of that arising I began to act different, as if out of a dream. No one could understand me. They looked at me as if I were crazed. I must have looked a little crazed for they could not help staring at me with wide-open eyes. My family could not understand my behaviour. They could not understand the ending of that dream. They kept looking at me, as if in a dream.I went about as if I was blind. I stumbled over objects in my path. Time and again I was miraculously saved from smashing open my skull against the floor. I would have said it was a dream except that this was not the dream. I was able to see through my own skin. I began to see what empty spaces consisted of. I began to smell space, feel it in my lungs, breathe it in and out.All continuity was broken. Time lay shattered and smashed at my door. Coherence seemed to have flown out of my life and I was panic-stricken for a while. The coherence seemed to come back with the panic; and then both vanished. I was left empty without a soul. Nothing to call my own. I saw my erstwhile dream as if it were a dream. I saw my erstwhile family and could not understand that they could still dream.Everything seemed strange for a while; now; always. Everything was strange for now and always. Everything was always and now, strange. As if in a dream. I was in a dream out of that dream. A dream that was constantly being bruised and broken. So that it was no more a dream. It was what was, at this moment, now, the waking up more terrifying than the dream.The dream closed its eyes - in the shape of my office, in the form of my family - and went back to its sleep. In that sleep the dream was dreaming itself, and I was looking at that dream.© Vipul Rikhi.

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