Dream Diary – Beneath The Waking mind


If sleep is ‘little death’ are dreams then an afterlife?

Painting credit copyright Aditya Dogra.

I have not logged about the early morning dreams or premonitions in some time. Actually I wait till some voice within me tells it is time to write. Things keep happening between the realms of wakefulness and sleep and in between too. Yes, i think there is a state in between and perhaps it has a name too but I am not aware. Even when we are asleep there is this inner wakefulness that guides the dreams as we know them. Sometimes I feel I conjure up some situation or thing to work upon while sleeping and that becomes the dreamscape but on most nights the events are unexplained and not really connected with the day’s events. There is always something deeper and more authentic than the  waking reality.

I do not know what prompts me to write down my dreams and I do not know what they mean but it feels good to be intrigued by these riddling images of my mind. Here I will share three recent ones.

First the most recent and the shortest.

I am in a cave, exploring perhaps, when i find something glistening in one of the ledges cutting through the wall on my left. Something is breathing there. There is only natural light but enough to see what needs to be seen. As I focus my eyes I realize it is a creature , a mix of a serpent or a snake  and a huge lizard ( iguana/ monitor lizard are first thoughts). It’s body is glistening blue green. The color of peacocks neck. The colors shimmer as they would in sunlight. It’s head too is a strange mix of both the creatures I mentioned but more like a snake’s. As i stand there in awe it slowly rises as if waking from a sleep. Our eyes meet. There is a gentleness in those eyes. I do not remember what color they were. All I can remember is the feeling of warmth  they radiated. The creatures slides to the ground and as it does I notice its torso and legs. They are like human body. The lower part below waist is human like. It has the same flesh color. It stands there gazing as I gaze at it and in that moment we lose track of time and space and everything else. 

I didn’t wake up immediately as I mostly do nor did the dream continue. It just ended there.

At another time  the dream was more in conscious state of mind I believe as I was very much aware of the sounds around the house. I am anyway a very light sleeper though my children claim I sometimes sleep soundly when I say I  had been awake the whole night. Strange that it may seem.

 

Talking about children, my boys are often part of my dreams directly or indirectly.  Many time I get this sudden thought/ a flash of an image like a premonition and most of the time it comes rue in one form or the other with the person whose name/face flashes in my mind. It has happened too often in last few months though again it could be just a coincident. These thoughts don’t always come to me as dreams.

Usually it is connected to something uneventful, a mishap in most cases.

In a few cases the mishap occurred without me being aware  and when I shared my dream/ thought I came to know what had happened. It has happened with friends/family in close circle.

Before I go on to the longish dream to end this post let me give an example.

Few days ago my elder son had come to spend the weekend with me. Early Sunday morning  at about 3 AM I had a dream that my brother was waking me up telling me to come see how much blood was pooled up near my elder son’s hip area as he slept on his left side facing the wall. i rush and try to wake the boy asking him where is he bleeding from. The chap gets up and yells at us for spoiling his precious sleep as he isn’t bleeding at all. I stare at the blood pool wondering where it was coming from while the boy dozes off again. 

I woke up with a start and went straight to the room where he was sleeping peacefully. I sat there for a few minutes and then went to brush my teeth and make tea etc. In an hour or so my phone rang and it was the younger son. Worried and weeping he asked for his brother. My heart sank thinking of some mishap that may have happened with him. I quickly work Kid 1 again and gave the phone. I could make out something was very wrong as he consoled his younger brother, jumped out of bed, changed, booked the cab to rush back home. While doing that he explained that their little kitten fell from the second floor and was attacked by dogs. She was in critical state and bleeding from mouth and rectum.

I did not share my dream with anyone except one person. It isn’t the first time this has happened and it scares me. In recent months there have been many short dreams/ flashing related to blood / death/ mishaps and invariably a news has followed. In an already skewed up world in which I exist this isn’t a good sign IMO. A thing that last maybe 30 seconds while also never ending in my mind.

How the consciousness speaks in these ambiguous forms of  oneiric tales freak me out at times. Dreams can be bizarre. A surreal continuum of lostness like this next one.

it is dark and me and the boys are travelling on a bullock cart ( I think they are bullocks) through some slush. The ground is rough and uneven. It is also cold, at least for me, as I have a hooded cape wrapped around me. The boys are bare chested.

I do not know where we are and where we are headed. The horizon isn’t visible. It is just a journey into deeper dark. There a big iron truck with us though I keep thinking of it as suitcase and call it a suitcase.

“How long will it take?” I ask.
“No idea but we need to keep going. It may rain too. The entire area is flooded.” Says the elder son.

” Keep the suitcase covered.” says the younger one. ” we can’t take risks. I’m fed up of this unending journey.”

“Stay quiet.” I whisper.

I can see the tree line of some forested area far at the horizon.  it begins to drizzle.

“Who thought of taking this fabulous vehicle for such an important ride?” Kid2 tries to make the animals move faster. They groan.

“Be prepared for anything and look out for some repair shop. We need to get the suitcase repaired. We can also sell it and buy a stronger lighter one if possible.” Kid 1 says.

“I can see a lantern. Be ready.” I say gripping a baton while the boys grip on some weapon of defense they have.

Slowly, like a shadow we move closer to the lone yellow flickering light. It looks like one of those puncture repair shops one sees along the highways. There is an old shack too. I spot boxes there. We do not spot anyone. Cautiously we step down and look for the owner.

“What do you want?” A voice startles us. A man had appeared from behind the ragged curtains acting like curtains at the door. He looks a million years old.

“We need to exchange our old suitcase with a lighter box. You can keep ours. No money.” I say, eyeing the boys to remain alert.

“Select the one you want. Be quick. The rapids will rise any minute.”

The boys rush to the cart as the animals begin to whimper.sensing an impending danger.

In a minute I join them and we set off. After a while I look back to find the place drentched in dark.

“We were lucky to get away.” I mumble.

” Is everything safe.” Kid 2 asks.

I gasp realizing that the box is missing. The boys pull the reins and glare at me. ” You left the box there only. You idiot.” Kid 1 is fuming with anger.

“I just don’t know how that could have happened. I transferred the contents, locked and picked up the …” I stare at an empty worn out old suitcase thrown in a corner of the cart.

” You picked up the old one.. How could you? You lost all we had. Our everything. Our lives. ” We were rooted to the ground in the middle of a large dark flooded plain. My elder one’s angry figure looming large over me.

I  hear my younger one mumbling in fear. ” We are done. We won’t survive. I told you it was a bad idea to cross over like this. What will we do… mumble..mumble.. “

 The water ahead of us is gleaming in some invisible light and the animals pull the cart as quickly as they can through the slush pulling them in. 

The forest line is clearly visible but still far. There are stumps of burnt trees around us. The cart suddenly stops and we freeze. Something isn’t right. My elder son gets up and picks up a spear. 

“I have to leave. You need to travel on your own from here.Go north then west. Goodbye for now.” With that he soundlessly jumps out of the cart and in a flash vanishes into the dark. We just see a flash of the spear tip gleaming and then vanishing. 

We look at each other and then ahead. We have fallen through time. The tree line has disappeared. and instead far away the horizon is visible like a red thread encircling the landscape. We turn north. First the bullocks dissolve then the first half of the cart with Kid2 and then me. ll that remains is the darkness. 

 

I slowly opened my eyes and glanced around the room which seemed darker than usual. Usually one can hear the low snoring sounds of my brother in next room but that night was quieter than ever.

For a long time all I could think of was my elder boy. I did narrate the dream to him some time in the next few days and maybe there was some part that I may have forgotten to write here. A conversation perhaps when he leaves but I do not want to invent anything now. It’s been a few months.

2016 brought a lot of upheaval but then the chaos is necessary to give birth to something. When it comes to my life I do not know which plane I am on as I plunge into one to emerge on another, day in and day out.

Something is about to change in the coming months. I do not know if that is a good sign or bad but I am going with my gut feeling and going with it.

Something needs to be written about. Urgently and Soon.

Something needs to be brought to a closure.

Universe is showing some signs. Hope it guides me in the right direction.

PEACE – BE.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Déjà vu – Dream Diary


I often revisit a dream or sometimes there is a continuation. It may happen immediately in next few days or even after months, years. The place or people may seem familiar from a past dream, giving a feeling of dream  Déjà vu. Let me tell that it is the people or places that I revisit but the dream is not reoccurring. None of the places are familiar in real life.

Here is the first dream that I had sometime last year. I did not log it so some part are forgotten but most of it is still very vivid.

I am in an old building, probably a ruinous house, with some people who seem to part of an organisation or group I am part of. The bare brick walls are plastered with half torn or full posters. I could see something written but could not decipher the language Red and black  are the  prominent colours. The two rooms on top floor where we are have minimal furniture Basically a wooden table laden with papers, books, pens, water bottles, a few glasses and some other miscellaneous things. A few simple wooden chairs an a bed roll in a corner. There is a small stool in a corner with a few bags. The place is dusty and neglected.

The single window in the room, where we are gathered, is small and the dirty glass panes are cracked. The place is very dimly lit and we seem to be very well adjusted to work in such conditions

The faces are tense. They aren’t familiar people from real life but in dream they seem like old friends Apart from the five – six of us the building is empty. It is away from the habitation and there isn’t much vegetation around. To me it seems like an  outskirts of an abandoned desert village.

There is a part of of dream which I have forgotten. Some conversations and other details. They are there as images but very obscure now.

There is firing going on outside so this place is a hideout. We are probably thinking of a strategy to escape.  It is unclear now.

Next image is of the staircase full of wounded or dead people. The firing is intense and I can see men in military combat uniforms. There are civilians too with rifles etc. From the broken areas of walls I can see fires all around.

I am dressed in regular black jeans and a black long sleeve shirt. No other details about others.

I ask a young man to accompany me down the stairs. He seems familiar, maybe my son but not in the dream. Both of us are carrying some sort of a bamboo pole stick with a metal head

I give a thumbs up to the others and we maneuver down the staircase with people crying out in agony.  Dead faces, half open eyes with life ebbing out of them stare at us as we go down the bloody steps littered with severed limbs and dead bodies. A child is crying but there is no sound. Her eyes possessed with an unknown fear. She is lying in the lap of a woman thrown at the base of the stairs. Her head split open.

I pick up the child, cover her in a cloth mask till neck and run out from the hole in the back of the wall. There are men pursuing us but no one shoots

We run through the dark but somehow the path is clearly visible. There is light that we can see but others can’t. And then out of the blue we are attacked. These look like men but they aren’t. They appear and vanish at will. So do we. The young man gives me a signal and I drop the child in a push cart standing by a tree. The cart vanishes. We are surrounded by trees that look like men. They close in on us. There are other people too (humans)  but they are unconcerned of the happenings around them as if they are in some other reality. We use the poles to protect ourselves but the tree mob and the men who had pursued us close in from all sides On a cue the young man with me spins the pole over his head and in that frantic spinning whirl of light I watch him dissolve There is no movement except for the shimmering dust that slowly drizzles to the ground where he had stood. The attackers turn to me. In one quick motion I slip out of my clothes and take position pointing the pole in their direction. It isn’t a wand but it roots them to the ground. I step back one step at a time.

Their eyes fixed on me

The darkness increase and I dissolve into it.

At this point my eyes opened and for a few minutes I could feel the sand, the dust, the blood , the darkness which was unlike anything. I tried to get up but could not. I must have lay there in that half awakened state for some time. I can’t tell how long but when I finally woke up my body ached and the soles of my feet were dirty. I could feel the sweat and sand on my body which actually wasn’t there.

I never had any similar dream again till day before yesterday. The building seemed very similar to the one in precious dream but not the location. The area was lit with yellow lights. I was walking along the back lane in some old part of the city though the lane was not narrow or winding. All the buildings looked the same as the one in the previous dream. Made of bare red brick  A high wall separated them from the back lane. The wall was whitewashed I was again with my elder son and we were walking along in a hurry Hundreds of people were sleeping on the road Where ever one looked one could see people covered with quilts lying on the road  and the pavement adjoining the wall. I don’t recollect what was on the other side. We walked carefully in the midst of dirty white quilts. The impact of the dream was so real that I could actually feel the warm breath of those sleeping men ) yes, they were all men), the concrete of the  lane, the softness of the white quilt covers on which sometimes I stepped. Only a few half concealed faces were visible. I could sense the rise and fall of the sleeping bodies. It was night and maybe winter but I do not recollect the feeling of cold. All sensory impressions that I felt were of others. We hardly talk till we reach the end of the lane where there is a quiet group of few men.They stand surrounding a wooden stretcher, or bench something flat and elevated on which a man is lying down. My son is a few steps ahead of me As I reach the place I look at the man lying down. He seems familiar. No one I know from physical  life right now.  The man was wearing a plain white cotton shirt  and black trousers. No shoes. He had nicely trimmed beard and mustache. Must be in his mid forties. On his left upper cheek was a gaping wound. Most probably cleaned up as there was no sign of any blood. A man, whom I take for a doctor, was applying some native medicine on the wound. He seemed as if someone had dragged him out from his sleep. No one spoke.  “WTF is he doing?”, I whisper to Adi who urges me to walk on but I can’t. I stare at the injured man. His eyes hold me captive. We look into each others eyes as if our stares are locked. I feel he is trying to convey a message. Adi gets restless and nudges me to move but the eyes of the man do not let go of the hold. There was a surge of emotions I felt in that moment from empathy to rage to warmth to sadness and also love. Adi pulls at my arm and practically drags me from the spot. The eyes plead me to stay but I allow myself to be pulled. As I move away the images begin to blur and we continue to walk , now in the dark.

Though it was just a crossing of a lane and this eye contact with this man, the dream was immensely intense. I still remember those eyes, every fold of the quilts I saw, the air i was breathing, the atmosphere. Strangely there is no focus on the other men , the doctor (let us call him that), even what Adi was wearing etc.

Two things that gave me the feeling of Deja vu were the buildings and the injured man.  It is strange when you feel the warmth of human bodies. I have always felt them in a positive way. No coldness in their presence. Even when they aren’t friendly.

In both the dreams the buildings reminded me of some place I had been before. Like in many past dreams, the area had a desert like feel. Though it was not so evident in this particular one.

Both the time there was a feeling of premonition about someone in need of help. Someone reaching out. There was someone in the previous dream too whom I do not recollect now. Strangely there were no other females in both the dreams. Except that little infant girl.

This time the dream left me with a feeling  of incompleteness and helplessness. A sort of parting that should not have been. A slight feeling of remorse too but I can not say the reason.

This was the first time  I did not want the dream to continue. I wanted to run away from it. Shirking the responsibility I guess. Something alien to me.

What does it symbolize I do not know but those eyes I am not able to forget. Though I do not see them, the thought keeps coming back. Should I have stayed?

“Beneath our waking mind there is another mind that broods and plots the coordinates of symbolic escape toward other experiences.Dreams are those rare things that last a few seconds while also never ending inside our heads. A  space opens to become a volume of the inexplicable and within that space, something not exactly real weaves around itself a palpable web of the truer-real.” A friend wrote few years ago. I miss his presence but I know he is safe and healthy doing what is best for him.

 

 

 

 

Stepping Into The Unexplained – Dream Diary


I have not updated the dream diary since almost one year. Last year had been very disturbing at many levels and I am still coming to terms with various aspects. Though there was always a certain kind of fluidity in my dreams all through the year and the nights were always live with  dreams that were more real than reality there wasn’t anything that struck me very strongly. Mostly the family members feel I sleep soundly but the brain is active or maybe I should say wandering. It is usually not connected with the daily living. The people are unknown, so are the places but there is a feeling a feeling of Déjà vu.  The accompanying male figure in many of my dreams is my elder son. Maybe because he too is very receptive to the unknown or maybe because he is an emphatic match.

This constant fleeting between dreams and wakefulness has actually disrupted the usual sleep routine but now this seems normal. Some may find such dreams crazy or even macabre but that is what makes them so profound. I feel I am always at the threshold of consciousness. I thought my long term insomnia has become a gross feeder for such events but then I do seem fast sleep to others which is intriguing. I’ve had dreams that have left very vivid impressions on my memory. More vivid than the physical reality we experience. I believe that the depth of the experience and the alternative reality is limited to select few but most of us are never able to validate it as we would an event in physical reality. We are never able to bridge the gap.

I have a strong feeling that science, society, religion has boxed us in by limiting our thinking. There is a lot that is unexplained and unexplored with regards to human brain and what we term as “real”.  It is evident that the brain does have some functions beyond what science has already examined. Society builds our box for us, we sometimes feel confined to it because we don’t want to look odd, feel silly or out of place. Personally, I love exploring and seeing what’s out there, beyond the confines of my box which is truly not defined. It may seem odd to others but to me that is  the essence of life. I don’t know how to articulate it properly but in my thinking there is a connect between the universal energies and us. That is why some people are psychic.

Every living thing has consciousness has a connection to everything else in the universe. We are all sort of wired together and sometimes we go beyond the realms of physical world. There may be many reasons for the sensed presence, intuitions, out of body experience or such other things. I read about quantum mechanics of brain and it is fascinating. “When people have a near-death experience, all that quantum information leaves the brain, yet continues to exist, which is why some people report out-of-body experiences and lights at the end of tunnels. I think it says a lot about other such experiences too. One needs to explore. Having said that, it may be the confirmation of our perceptions too.”

We all carry a certain energy within and around us and many of us can sense that. It is an intuitive quality which is inborn but many of us lose it because of the conditioning of our minds by the environment. We are programmed to think and feel in a certain manner and anything that does not subscribe to it is frowned upon. Just as the women healers, psychic, clairvoyant were termed as witches and killed since ancient times.

Some places / people drain you out or make you happy, you feel comfortable in some homes or rooms and not in others  that is because you can feel the energy they emit, it is the same with things that we are unaware of or which are beyond the realms of our understanding. The law of attraction.

There is a fascinating world out there and within us and we know so little.

I remember someone telling me that I may be turning schizophrenic or may have a neurological dysfunction that I am not aware of. I don’t think so. Some people are psychic, intuitive, they have transcendental out of body experiences.

I have felt presence around me many times but they aren’t what the stories tell us. Not shadow beings, transparent apparitions with cold air around them, mostly there is a warmth. Some may say it is dues to the lack of it in the real world for me but I have felt the reverse too. It isn’t scary but it is definitely something I haven’t experienced before and yet there is always something which can relate to my physical life.

Some life energies take more than usual time to crossover and cling to this plane. They even feed off you at times. They prefer to stay earthbound. The reasons could be many. Sometimes they choose to stay  and at others they just hover because of some unfinished business. Energy can not be destroyed, it just changes forms and it is these forms we experience at times. We are like cosmic magnets and our viberational energies attract other energies from spaces around us. I think it is based on our thoughts and emotions and our receptiveness in finding our  matching energy. Our bodies are aligned with nature and the universe in the larger sense.  I am no expert so these are my personal beliefs. I think I never fitted in the norm and was always a little bit of an outsider. Maybe wit ha little bit of sixth sense.

This post may seem like a rambling and it is that. It is a portal for discussion for you. The dreams, the sightings, the intuitiveness,  precognition in a very limited or discreet way are some of the aspect of this being different.

We were having an interesting discussion about the two simultaneous photographs I took last year in the dinning area of my house and I just felt like sharing it here.

Here is the pic and it is open for interpretation. Play or light and shadow or something beyond that ?

 

These two pix were taken on a lovely sunny April afternoon around five o’clock. I was flirting with the mobile phone camera around the house and taking shots of light and shadows. When I focused on the wall in our dinning area I was rather surprised at what I saw. The chair was empty and yet there was a shadow image on the wall. No one was in the room except me. I opened the phone gallery to examine the pic again and could make out an old/middle aged man’s figure so I looked again at the wall. Nothing was visible to the naked eye. I positioned the camera and took a pic again. This time there was no figure. It could be a play of light but I was intrigued. A dream I had day before and a discussion about keeping the ashes of dead family members brought me back to this picture. So I leave you to ponder over this and one more question, is it proper to keep the ashes in the house? Is it proper to flow half of it in the river and keep the other half at home? Is it okay to divide cremation ashes? Are these beliefs tradition/ religion based? I know about keepsake urns etc.  

I must say again that I am not superstitious, just curious…

.  

The hounds are back – Dream Diary


I thought I had done away with them. The hounds had stopped frequenting my dreams after I logged in my last  dream about them in September. Not that I am perturbed by them or the other things associated with these recurring lucid images but they do leave me drained out. There certainly is a connection somewhere, maybe a past life connection. In any other situation I would have let it pass but now I want to crack the mystery. What is taking me back to old havilies, graveyards and what are these magnificent hounds doing in my dreams. Are these dreams ” a knot of concerns in my conscience. unchanging ones, unconfronted ones, ones I continue to live with every day and that the unconscious thinks about by itself, trying to alert me, control me, warn me, get me to release it from its worries.” as a friend thinks or  is there a deeper play?

Usually these are morning dreams. Mostly after 2 O’clock. so vivid that I feel I can touch and feel and smell whatever surrounds me at that moment.

This is how it all began

I am in some upmarket house overlooking a deep blue ocean. The beach has white sand. Calm and serene with million shades of green. I am in a plush room with french windows with sheer curtains pulled to the sides. There are a few more people in the room, people I don’t know from real life but they seem like a family in the dream. The only person I know from real-time is my brother, a handsome man in early fifties (he doesn’t resemble how my brother looks now but how he would have looked if he had maintained himself) He is wearing an Indian Maroon polo neck Tee with black pants. The other guy in the room, much younger, is wearing a similar outfit. Dressed in a formal off white skirt and shirt I am looking out through the window. Interestingly my hair is long and tied in a bun resting at the nape of the neck.

There is  a corpse of an old man on the beach. Naked. The waves are coming up to it but never quite touching. I watch it for sometime and then the scene shifts to a room above this one. My elder son is sitting there on a large armchair. Handsome man in his thirties.  Dressed in the same maroon polo neck and black pant. Intense and good-looking. He is flipping a coin between his thumb and finger. I ask him why he did he do it and when is he going to stop it. Some conversation as a mother which I can’t remember completely but it is formal. He pays no attention but keeps his eyes fixed on me and then the phone rings. I put the speaker on. A close friend(male) from real time is on the line. He gets mad at me about what my son is doing and blames me for leaving  the job and starting a cult. Warning me that it will destroy everything. It seems my lad has been writing rebellious stuff and offensive things about his grandfather etc on social networking sites his blog etc.

We listens to the conversation quietly then I tell this friend not to get involved in this and that I approve of  my boy’s activities and with that slam the phone.

I tell Adi that the situation is grave and he should stay put where he is.

Then I come down to the living room where we began.  I see that a large long cushion is thrown on an armchair similar to the one above. Four hounds, their coats gleaming, appear all of a sudden and I say, “Who let these beasts out?”  and then I notice what they are doing. One of them pins down the pillow to the back of the chair , the other two are on either side pulling something over it which seems like a sheet of water. One of them is just keeping a watch looking in our direction.

“What the hell are they doing?” I say as water begins to seep into the plush red carpet.

The man who looks like my brother has the same intense look as my son. He is flipping a pencil just like Adi was flipping the coin. He is silently watching the chaos and then he speaks in a gravelly voice.

“They are doing what they are trained to do. They are Adi’s beasts.” with that he gets up and so do the others. There is a complete silence.

Now I see my mother, dressed again in formal western outfit (something floral, a skirt or a dress) sitting on a rocking chair. Her palm covering her face.  Maybe going through some emotional roller coaster of  her own. She is older than she is now.

I tell the people in the room to leave and not to breathe a word to anyone.

They step out and so does the man who looks like my brother.  Our gaze locks in a  moment of understanding and am back in the room above. Adi is at the window looking out. I join him.

The police are cordoning off the area and have put the corpse in a body bag.

We stand there in silence. The dogs at our heals.

*********

When I woke up the house was in darkness so I felt a bit disoriented. I stepped out wondering whether it was morning or evening. Then I saw mom reading in her room and the doorbell announced the arrival of the cook. It was around 7:30 PM. I must have slept for about four and a half hours. Wonder if I was really asleep or awake or just not in this world.

Unlike previous dreams there was no blood on me or maybe there was some on our hands – Adi and mine.  Blood that had tainted our lives.

Dreams and Dark Imaginings – Dream Diary


Hippocrates had a dream theory that the mind received images during daytime and produced images during night-time.

Phantasmagoric is how I would describe my dreams. Usually I do not take naps during daytime but a few days back sheer mental, emotional and physical fatigue made me crash while my laptop and cell buzzed ceaselessly. I was in a sort of hypnotic trance and yet fully aware of the sounds that filtered through the closed-door of my room. The afternoon sun shone brightly and filled my little room with brilliant sunshine and warmth slowly sucking me into a gateway of a private fantasy land. Unlike the known realms of fantasy this one did not have any magical stuff . Somehow I feel that many of my lucid dreams are sequential and  bizarre. It seems I am shape shifting into some another being or sometimes I see myself with people who are either part of my present life or past at places known and unknown though I may have known them at some other time.  The scary twist comes to a normal lucid dream when your subconscious mind takes control and the dream feels like reality. You can actually feel, touch ,smell what surrounds you.  The senses are sharper than normal and visual impact is much more than what it may be in wakeful state. The thin line that separates wakeful state and sleep diminishes and dissolves.

On this day I was taken to an old house. These are the kind of houses you find in old cities. Houses with many big and small rooms, a veranda, a store-room in an old style kitchen, steep staircase leading to terrace. Heavy doors  and windows which bring in more darkness than light.  Old style flat wooden beds, iron trunks and wooden furniture that makes the atmosphere slightly daunting. There is always  fragrance of age, a murky presence of cobwebs and cold feel of stone under your feet if you walk bare feet.

I was in a big room where on a large wooden bed my mother sat but she didn’t look like her. Her physique resembled that of  my paternal grandmother whom none of us have seen except in a few yellowing photographs. She wore a soft cotton sari of some pastel shade. Her hair silver streaked with black tied in a loose bun resting at the nape of her neck.

There is a small girl whom I call with my niece’s name but she looks nothing like her. A thin wispy creäture dressed in a frock and leggings.  I bring her in and tell the two domestic helps to stay in the outside veranda. These girls work for us here now in real-time. So here is some present merging with past.

The room has another door at the other end leading to a row of dingy , vacant rooms smaller in size. I take the little girl to one of the bigger and airy rooms to wash her dirty face and change her clothes,

She is unusually quiet and obedient.  Not her usual self at all.

The scene shifts from these dark interiors to one of the flats I lived in as a teenager. It shifts to my room with again two doors , one leading to the balcony and another to the lobby. The setting is almost the same as it used to be in my time but there is an overpowering presence of an old wooden wardrobe. Heavy dark wood.  stuffed with clothes and things with bundles of more clothes and saris and sheets on top. I tell mom to clean her and put fresh clothes which she does. here her real image is clearly visible.

I may be in early thirties not younger for sure.

The scene sifts back to the old room where I put her on the wooden bed with a glass of milk. A modern glass with lid and nozzle, on of those insulated ones.

I go into the bathroom among one of the rooms in the row and come out to find a drunken , disheveled man shouting his lungs out to take his daughter back. I manage to push him out but can’t find the girl.

I call for the house helps but no one is there in the murky summer afternoon pregnant with various smells rising from inside and outside of the house.

I run around in panic constantly yelling for the helpers and the child.  I find her sprawled on the floor face down at the bottom of the staircase and in the twilight filtering in from door I see the pool of blood near her head. The house help comes running down the stairs and swears to know nothing about her fall or injury. I turn her carefully . She is unconscious and cold as ice but her heart is beating. I rush inside to pick up my purse and car keys ( By the way I don’t drive) and by the time I return everyone has disappeared. There is a dark pool of red seeping slowly in the crevices of stone flooring . The door is open and swinging slowly with evening breeze. I run around in the by lane but there is no sign of  life not even the usual street dogs.

I find the younger house help who tells me that a couple has taken the child to their house in the next lane. (These people are neighbors from where I lived two years back). I rush with her to their home crossing series of old dilapidated buildings. We reach a deep blue wooden door with a huge chain lock on it. I open the lock and step into another dark corridor and set of rooms. On my right is room with curtain drawn. I can hear hushed voices inside and a dim light is visible if you look carefully through the coarse material of the curtain. The gentleman comes out and tells me that the child is still unconscious but the bleeding has stopped. Nothing else can be done for now. I argue that we should take her to the hospital and he looks at me in surprise.

” Which world are you living in girl? There is a curfew in the town since last four days. I am surprised you even managed to get here and did not get shot. The town is shut.” I just stare at him wondering  how long have I been cooped up inside the four walls of that formidable house.

As we talk we walk into an open courtyard.  His fingers find a switch on the dark side wall and the naked yellow bulb springs to life. He turns to face me and his eyes freeze with alarm and concern.

‘What happened to you? You are bleeding.”

“What? Where?” My hand automatically reaches to the side of my left temple. I feel the sticky liquid run down my fingers.  There is no pain, no sign or remembrance of an injury.

I woke up with the feel of blood still on my hand. I realized that my hand was still at the temple and it that semi awakened state I saw the deep dark liquid on my hand, that unmistakable irony smell of blood filled my nostrils. I could feel its sticky texture and how it slowly made its way down to the elbow and down to the floor as I looked at it  with astonishment. By this time I was actually awake. The  laptop battery had died and the blank screen stared at me from the side of my bed. The sun had gone down and the room was in darkness except for the tube light  peeping from under the closed-door. I got up and switched the light on. My legs a little shaky and a definite ache in the neck muscles especially to the left.  I realized I was sleeping in one awkward position for more than three hours.

Slowly the sounds had faded and the house had become silent with my mother bent over her book somewhere. I went into her room and into the bathroom. Switching on the light above the mirror I looked closely for any marks on the side of temple but found none. While washing my hands with liquid soap the same feeling of feeling blood between my fingers returned  and for a second I actually felt it was blood but it wasn’t.

It is intriguing how I am able to actually feel the wetness of blood and know the right thickness and color of it. It is also intriguing how this is repeated in dream like sequence. This is the second time  I bled in my dreams and surprisingly it never scares or upsets me. Read DEATH RED here.

Beyond The Unknown – A Short Story


I felt slowly being lifted out of my physical body. It wasn’t a hallucination. I was very much aware of the separation of my consciousness from the flesh body I was living in for all these years.  I was aware of one of my selves watching the other in moment of life. Fully conscious of what was happening to me I watched my sleeping self for some quiet moments, turned and began to walk.  Nothing unusual.

I walked on a familiar road shaded with the deepening shadows of ancient trees that lined on both sides and remembered what a beautiful shade of green they were during daytime but at night they acquired demonic shapes. There is one thing about the night; it paints everything in its own colour. All forms, colours, and shapes dissolve. It fills them with similar melancholy stillness. There are things one can see only in the darkens of night

The road beneath my bare feet was like a glacier. I was sure I heard earth’s soundless whispering drifting through the trees.  Why wasn’t I scared? Why did it seem familiar? Was it Déjà Vu? Or was I under some spell?

I remembered my physical body lying on plush bed. The slow rise and fall of my breasts and the constant humming of the ceiling fan. And then I saw him. A hound. At least I thought it was a hound. It sure was a larger than life and had deep non luminous eyes. A hell-hound?

I could see his balanced athletic body movement as it advanced towards me, slowly growing like a huge sinister black shadow.  Strange that he did not charge on seeing someone on a road – deserted, charmed, and vacant running through the middle of nowhere. It surprised me that the darkness of the night failed to camouflage him.  There was nothing ferocious or scary about him, not even the demonic red eyes that looked straight into mine… instead I instantly felt a connection, an at ease feeling. I felt his sinews strengthening mine with his growing presence. A strange sensation began to flow through my veins. He seemed friendly, maybe he was a protector, an animal spirit guide or maybe not. Maybe he had some ulterior hidden motives? As far as he did no harm, it did not matter much to me.

I felt a drop in temperature as the distance between the dog and me shortened but kept on walking. I noticed he had stopped midway blocking whatever lay in the darkness. For  fraction of a second as my attention shifted from the dog to the rustling of the leaves he was gone. As if he just melted into the night and slid into some dark hole taking it along with him. Making it all even less visible than invisible.

The scene changed dramatically. I could see the graveyard now, dilapidated, old, forgotten and vandalized. The headstones were barely visible even though the early morning light pierced through the thick foliage like spears making some sort of voodoo motifs on the earth below. Everything was transfixed except the light.

The graves themselves were covered by wild flowers and moss.  I stood there observing the scene that lay in front of me.  For a long time I kept staring at a headstone half covered with gray green moss. It was the only one intact even though it had aged with time and had a dull decaying appearance. I tried to step a little closer to inspect but found myself rooted to the ground. I just could not move.

A bunch of wild daisies fluttered furiously at the base of its left side as if desperately wanting an escape. It was bizarre because the breeze wasn’t that strong.  The flowers held my gaze. A strange feeling of some past connection swept through me. The effort and the feeling of déjà vu were now consuming me.  I felt as if my skull was about to crack open.

Suspended between a strong desire to stay there and a stronger one to return I stood there in the midst of all that sadness that had burst into various shades and textures of green.

Why was I there and whose grave was it? I noticed that most of the other grave stones were buried under wild growth or barely visible. Some seemed ravaged, as if mauled by some animal. I suddenly remembered the hound and instantly felt a presence behind me.

I turned on an impulse and floated into a dream.

The same woman who came in my dreams, my friend, confidante and lover was standing behind me, wearing only a smile. Her left breast seductively half concealed behind the long dark tresses which she had brought forward on one side. Let us call her Luna. The familiar feeling of being at the receiving end of a torrential desire crept up between my legs.

I looked at the sky, the shadow of the moon was slipping away slowly from under the clouds.  Either the time was travelling too fast today or her eyelids had closed upon the day. Day and night seemed to have merged.  Weak with longing and fatigue I sank into her arms.  The touch of Luna’s smooth skin felt like ice on my scorched skin.  I was delirious. I remember whispering strange meaningless words to her. My face resting in the curve of her neck and her strong comforting arms wrapped around me like a blanket. It was uncanny how easily I melted and morphed into her skin and became her. Our relationship was something between friendship and love, something which I had not experienced in real life. It was fluid with no spaces in-between.

Luna had been my dream companion since time’s beginning and even though I am not a lesbian many times I found comfort in her. It wasn’t just erotic sexual relationship we shared but the bond of intimate oneness was stronger than any I had experienced. We were friends. Inseparable. When this world became too much to bear I always turned to Luna or should we say Luna was always there.  I don’t how to explain my relationship with Luna.

It surprised me to find her here in the graveyard and that too naked, why was she roaming around naked? But then I had always seen her like that. No, sometimes she wore mist but today her voluptuous body shone like an August moon in tranquil night sky.

I felt a tingling sensation tickle down my spine. A cross-road demon?

My body seemed chained to the bed and yet it felt strangely relaxed.

It took a lot of effort to open my eyes.

It was then I realized I was nude under a thin sheet carelessly thrown over me.

The kaftan I had worn lay crumpled on the floor.

My throat was parched. Somehow I dragged my body to the cabinet twisted the bottle lid and took a long drink of water. Some of the icy liquid ran down my bare neck and sizzled as it ran in rivulet between my breasts. I was still hot like flaming embers.

I manoeuvred my way through the smokiness  of the room turned the door knob of the bathroom turned the shower on and stood under the cold needle sharp jets of water. Eyes closed. I could hear voices and feel the coarseness of a bathrobe on my skin.  The water had stopped running.  The heat was returning and I was drifting again.

*****

I could not have heard her last words had I not been sitting close to her. I reached out and touched her forehead. The temperature was normal.  She was fast asleep.

I picked up my recorder and stood up. My shoulders and back ached as I tried to stretch myself. It had been a long day.  I walked up to the window and looked out at the lengthening evening shadows.  It had been strangely hot and murky day.  The tarmac on the road steamed and gave out sparks as the vehicles zipped passed on it. Something moved and caught my attention behind the cluster of trees across the road. I thought I saw a large shadow leap and slip away into the forested area.

With a swift movement I turned around. The couch was empty.

 This story is based on a dream I had some months back and which returned two days back

 

Dreamscape, Imagination, Mindgames And The World Within


Everybody has a secret world inside of them. 

All of the people of the world, I mean everybody. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside, inside them they’ve all got unimaginable  magnificent wonderful   stupid   amazing  worlds.

Not just one world.

 Hundreds of them.

 Thousands maybe.

Quote copyright-Neil Gaiman

Dreams make me endure the reality. Imagination lets me stay sane. The world inside my mind is where I retreat at times when the world becomes too much to bear. That is the world I live in most of  the time.  A private dreamscape, a virtual reality world where time has no meaning. Where the five senses work magically unrestrained. It is a world where dreams get realized, even the wildest of them, where passion are fed, love blossoms, fears take shapes and walk around. Where there are deep crevices full of secrets, dark alleys where thoughts stumble upon each other, strange voice glide past each other, there are ditches that reek of pain. A world where ghosts from the yesteryear wander freely rising from the graveyard of memories buried over the time.  It is a world where I am invented and reinvented driven by uncontrolled fantasy, a world where stories are born.

 A world with constellations of wants and needs, hopes and dreams, laments and longings,  a surreal universe of uninhabited stars yearning for life. No emotion is superfluous there, everything is an all engulfing whirlpool. Everything is larger than life. Raw, naked, stripped off all inhibitions,  everything free of boundaries reality imposes. I live here, in my enchantment. protected by own fairy tale, by love. Here time is different, unmeasured. It’s sunsets and sunrises painted in celestial colors. It is a world where I can smell, touch , hear, see everything that can not be smelled, heard,seen or touched in real life. I can give each object, each person, each place any dimension, any form, any kind of existence that I desire. The boundary between the animate and inanimate is in itself animate ( says KS) and it holds true here. Here I am the master weaver, craftsman, a dreamer, a storyteller, a lover with a raw sort of vulnerability, a woman I try hard to be in reality and manage only a fraction of it and sometimes I am just me, a form, unchained by sexuality. A shape shifter.

Here love is an exploding cigar we willingly smoke. Bodies are chiseled and carved in shape of desire. They feed on each other passionately, ravenously, sensually in the midst of all the silent noise that surrounds them, unaffected.Here love is not flowery, poetic, measured and hesitant. It is fierce, pulsating, graphic, full of fluidity and madness. Nothing comes close to the love we make inside our head. Ethereal, adventurous and wildly stimulating all at the same time.

The mind also has a dark world lurking to suck you in. It is devious. It can rage passionate fires and it can also drown you in the deepest of oceans full of pain. Shred you into tiny pieces, cut your veins and bleed you to a slow death. It can ravage your heart, nibble on it or tear it like a carnivore, it can throw you off-balance and hurl you down a narrow, gaping hole. It can strip you naked and whiplash you till your skin burns crimson, black and blue. The wounds it gives don’t heal, they come alive and spit lava. It cuts you down to your size more effectively than reality does.

Then there are dreams, you won’t understand if you aren’t a dreamer, lucid dreams filled with pieces of super reality which ooze out as revelations, a world within a world. A gobbling kaleidoscopic. It is amazing how we are tricked into believing reality of these world within by our mind. It is the creator. I think my mind has highly optimized memory channels which store data for later review. Vivid, lucid dreams where one is in control of that which in fact is just imagination, is something not everyone possess.

It is here that  the reality’s image is mirrored in absurdity & strange connections, I try to link them till I the find the pattern I seek. The process is continuous.

There are callings, revelations, symbols, voices and spirits. leading to inner deeper layers of this world which is a merger of dreamscape and imagination. One lives and dies and lives again here. Time travel becomes a reality. past, present and future merge. Mind becomes a canvas where every micro second the patterns change. The fine line between imagination and dreams becomes even finer with people like me.

And if you thought that is the end of it, you are wrong.

There are those demonic depths of mind where world as sensitive as a lunatic’s mind form and dissolve. Where revenge is plotted, throats are slit, where occult resides in its most primal form. Sometimes one is sucked by it at others it remains quietly breathing under the more calmer serene layer. The paradoxical existence of both and our ability to create a balance is what life is about, in real world or in the mindscape.

These are not the only world within, every moment new worlds are conceived in the mind womb ready to launch forth at any given time and take control. Everything emerges from three base emotions – Love, Hate and Fear.

Everything one runs from is in the head lurking in one of the worlds inside.

If I could just stand one night alone in my mind…. The thought itself is orgasmic.

Death Red – Dream Diary


Gaily I lived as ease and nature taught,
And spent my little life without a thought,
And am amazed that Death, that tyrant grim,
Should think of me, who never thought of him.
~René Francois Regnier

Someone slit my throat last night. I felt blood ..warm sticky ..slowly collecting at the nape of my neck and getting absorbed in the soft pillow. RED.

RED ….The color of our root chakra located at the base of the spine and allows us to be grounded and connect to the universal energies.. RED ….energizing, burning.  RED  color of poison, strength and aggression …RED…..Warm scented metallic taste  of  blood.

RED….   the highest arc of the rainbow, rebellious tainted love, the scarlet letter. Blazing red sunsets, sun stabbed skies.

Day before yesterday I mumbled something during my Reiki session at night. I did not know about it till my Reiki master told me the next day. Since some time night have been blotting paper for many sorrows and a bed for illicit desires, hopes, dreams and dark longings .

I am amused how death like a desirous lover shadows me each night relentlessly. Sometime lurking among the deep dark crevices of my mind at others trailing me from a safe distance. I feel it presence. Gentle , persevering she stays close. She ? Yes I know night with all its beauty and glorious charm can only be feminine.

It was an ordinary room with folding iron grill doors on both ends . Windowless. Sparsely furnished. A comfortable bed with soft white quilt duvet and a large frilled pillow. Spotless White.

I am draped in a sari. Thin floral Georgette in pastels. It has taken my shape.

I remember the bangles, glass bangles. I get the whiff of  roses but there aren’t any flowers.  No perfume.

The caretaker, a middle-aged woman  urges  me to go with the rest of the family. I ignore and  point towards the three fox-like dogs at the door and tell her to close the grill doors. They have pleading eyes. She lets them enter.

The animals look at me with intense eyes , pause for a moment and go out through the other door. The gaze stays.

I hear voices of other family members in the next room. laughing, arguing , debating and packing. They are ready to leave. Voices from a distance sound strangely mysterious. I try to catch the words as they drift through the thin walls and dark corridor. My caretaker too is set to leave. She continuously reports how others are irked and exasperated by my decision to stay and wait. Wait for someone to fulfill a promise.

Slowly the voices die.  Hush.

I lie awake and ask, ‘Where have I gone wrong?’  A voice says to me, ‘ This is going to take more than one night. More than one life ‘

I close my eyes.  Someone pours red-hot lava inside my head. I shudder and  lie suspended between dark and light. An ache begins to numb my throbbing body.  I move my hand to my neck. It’s been slit. A neat cut. Sharp and precise.

I moved my hand slowly and touched my neck. Eyes still closed. I felt blood. warm and sticky.

Slowly I opened my eyes. Death stood there wearing midnight, her eyes cold as steel and yet I was alive.

I was amused. I still am. This tryst with death was unexpected. Unexplained. Liberating and calming instead of scary and suffocating. I watched the soft gray sky from the mesh doors. Stillness of soul helps one to have those rare flings with reality.

Red is also color of LOVE.  Sensual , stimulating color of  passion and seduction.

Red is Cupid and the Devil.

My heart explodes.

Love doesn’t come easy to me, Death does.

I know not what causes this  fervent rush inside me…. Is it  my heart surfing the Californian sunshine or is it my body bathed in sweetness that is Indian summer ?

The rain may have the answer or the wind.. or maybe

la petite mort

A Dream Comes Haunting Again


Normally I do not sleep post lunch but for some days nights have been stuffy and restless. Unable to sleep I toss and turn in the bed, dozing on and off into slumber and wake up with a start.

Something has been tugging me at heart since long and I am trying to find solutions. Since yesterday morning I had a vague feeling, a mixed emotion of fear and longing but I kept it to myself wondering if it was just another play of the devious mind or something deeper than that, a heartache.

Today was a quiet day and tired from the pre lunch activities and lack of sleep my body began to demand rest. Unusual, because this rarely happens and as my eyes began to feel heavy I excused myself to the bedroom.

Someone noticed that I was quieter than before and asked if I was missing my boys. I think I did reply but it’s not very clear now.

Sleep took over the moment I hit the pillow. An insatiable thirst woke me from a dream. An old dream recurred after a very long time and got overlapped with a new one.  The havelies have become an integral part of my dreams and surely have some significance and some relation with my past life.

I often wonder why I see and remember the details of even the minutest part of dream.  The colors, the clothes, the streets, everything is absolutely clear.

These are the dreams that stay with me.

Its evening when I enter the fort or haveli , the door is heavily carved and the corridor is  mostly dark except for the light filtering in from the jharokhas above and the mashals  ( torches) which threw dancing shadows on the cold stone walls.

I am searching for someone but don’t see him anywhere.

A heavily dressed woman is sitting on a carved bench of stone made along the left side of the corridor. There are two young women with her who get up and move aside the moment they see me. I kneel and pay my respect to her but she is anxious to find me there. A sort of resentment is visible on her face.  I hear whispers from the young attendants. She gives a cold stare and gestures me to follow her. WE move ten paces and go up an iron staircase. I follow her without question and on top of the stairs there is another beautifully carved heavy door .She opens it for me and I walk in without question. The door is shut behind me and then I realize that it is a cell. I notice how dark and cold everything is. I have been here before. I have spent an entire lifetime here, secluded from the world.

This dream was constant many years back and came as a flash and got overlapped with a new one. Even in my subconscious mind I recognized it . Something took control and transported me to another time.

I am in the fort/ haveli garden and there is some zamindar (landlord) or stately prince, someone powerful and authoritative. He orders his men to tie my hands and take me away.

The men have covered faces and only eyes are visible. One of them holds me firmly and almost drags me inside the same corridor but from the door on the other side. It’s much more lighted. His grip is strong and hurts. (I felt the pain on my right arm even after waking up) .

The other two subordinates are told to stay behind. I recognize the touch .It is familiar but I can’t place it.  We pass two small water bodies where two women are being given some ceremonial bath. Large mature women, nude and sort of sedated are being bathed by men in a pool of water laced with white flowers. Terrified of my fate I cringe and struggle to escape but am firmly and closely held by my escort. I can feel his breathing and body heat. That too is familiar. I have experienced it before.

Something tells me he won’t harm as I am hurriedly led from the scene.  We reach the same staircase and the shadows increase. He reveals himself and before I can express myself holds me close and rushes upstairs. In the process my anklets fall.

It is surprising how I can see the gold broad old-fashioned anklets shimmering in the light of the torches.

I struggle to get away and pick them before anyone comes. They will reveal my identity. I see a young maid and tell her to pass them to me but she is too aghast and petrified to pick them.  He keeps insisting on moving away. His arms wrapped strongly around me. I long for the anklets for some reason.  My life depends on not being recognized.

We hear the sounds from a distance. Fear grips me.

I opened my eyes slowly and scanned the room unable to place where I am. The dream left me listless and sad.

Last few days have been crazy enough to run me down but the beautiful moon in the sky today lifted my heart. Sometimes a voice, few words, a feeling of warmth floods the heart and makes up for all that is lost.

The dream needs to be interpreted along with the earlier ones. I am putting it in Dream Diary category.  Hope the beautiful night brings solace and calms my yearning .

Reminiscence 2


Sleep eluded me as I tried to struggle with a bad cold and cough. In the middle of the night the cool breeze relaxed my restless heart and tired body. I tried to sit up and work on the lappie but somehow did not have the strength. The drumbeat in the cell indicated a text message. There are times when the heart is torn between longing and loss. It’s an emotion which can’t be really described.  Tears know not for what reason they flow. My vision blurred I slid out of bed and went to the terrace. Apart from a constant hum of the refrigerator the entire house was bathed in silent glow of the night-light. I still believe that heartstrings are tuned irrespective of physical distances and unseen heard melodies are the ones that make life worth what it is.

Somehow this song came flooding to my mind.

Something old dies to give birth to something new. However we may try to become a robot in the mechanical lifestyle we lead there are spaces in between that need to be filled. It is a gift one must accept with gratitude if we find just the right person to merge beautifully in those spaces.

I feel there is time and place for everything and though the heart may long for more than what is  it is best to let the relationship grow at its own pace. You can’t hurry a flower to bloom.

I took solace in his being and not being. The still night helped the unruly heart to calm a bit.

The stuffy summer air made me long for a chilled glass of water. Not a single star was visible. I dragged myself to the bed and lay down. The heart was still heavy and the brain was in blender over some pressing issues.

I must have dozed off slightly for an hour or so. A feeling of breathlessness woke me from a dream.

Stranger things have happened in my dreams but this was more of a vision than just a dream.

Dream 1

A long room with white walls, something like a waiting room filled the canvas of my mind. I am surrounded by what I call my ‘legal family’ I say this for the lack of a better word. Something isn’t right and I am thrown out on the street wrapped just in a white cloth, maybe a saree. My right foot hurts (it actually did) and there are scratched on the arms. A boy with a kettle full of hot tea and some glasses tries to help and asks for the cloth claiming it to be his. I plead him to let it be with me as it is the only thing I have to cover my body.

He tells me to run away before it is late. I drag myself as quickly as possible through dark lanes and reach a railway track. Unable to see clearly I fall and a part of the cloth gets stuck somewhere. I wake up with the hum of an approaching train.

The dream left me disturbed and in the morning we came to know  about a death of someone in the family and a preponed visit to Lonavala.

Any such event is combined with weather change. The clouds filled the sky. Though the breeze became cooler the atmosphere remained stuffy.

The second dream came the night after. Maybe it was just a fragment from the past.

Dream 2

I woke with an intense pain in the left abdomen just below the ribs. The push of the moist hard muzzle was felt very strongly. It was a big black dog. Maybe a Great Dane or a hound and it had a distinct smell.  I wasn’t scared of the beast but it hurt as it kept pushing me.

I pleaded to the young teenage boy to take the dog away but even after various attempts to pull it away the dog did not budge.

I am still finding the connection between these dreams and their meanings. Meanwhile I am trying to explore the city and hills nearby.

The old Mumbai- Pune highway wasn’t such smooth drive as it is now.  As the car zipped passed the city and the fields, the gorgeous sun slowly melted and began to flow in the sky.

I have happy memories of taking this road as a girl. The one I remember most is with my uncle on a scooter. It was fun to drive through the villages, with the mountains overlooking the green vast expanses of land.  Life was just a dream then. The drizzle brought back the memories.

It also brought an ache. Memories of love and of special places that are etched in the heart forever. Beautiful seasonal river flowing through lush green valley surrounded by mountain ranges, favorite spots under the trees,  a food stall which now doesn’t exist, the aroma of hot tea . The songs and much more that is now lost in time.