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.

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

Dream Diary : Dead man talking


They say that morning dream often come true and many a times dreams also indicate some future events. There are also different interpretations to what a specific dream may mean.

I had a strange dream two days back. It must have been three in the morning and I was in a half awakened state I guess.

The time was around 6 in the morning. The body of a man lay on an elevated wooden platform in the park right behind our home. I could see that his face was visible and so were his hands. A crisp white sheet covered the rest of the body. He was about 50 years of age. On the top floor of the building opposite ours, lot of people had gathered. Maybe the man lived there. Some young men were washing large utensils at a little distance from the platform. Hardly anyone noticed as we approached. Adi and I were curious. It seemed strange that a dead man was left unattended in the middle of the park.

As we inspected the body I noticed something strange. His eye balls were moving under the closed eye lids. We are a different lot and such things don’t scare us so we came a little closer to see what was exactly happening. Adi pointed out that even his lips were quivering a little at a specific interval. The man seemed dead all right but to confirm I placed my hand on his chest. No heartbeat. We were concerned. Was the man alive? why was he lying there alone on a wooden platform, declared dead ? I wondered if we should try to bring some life into him. But how ?

There was something strange about the whole situation and we looked around to find some clue. Nothing. The workers kept talking in low voices and concentrated on their washing, oblivious to our presence.

The very next moment my hubby called us to come and watch something from the terrace facing the park . My son and I rush to the terrace.

The dead man had risen to sitting position and there was a group of people facing him. The workers were no more there. Everyone was dressed for the occasion in pure white. They all had strange expressions on their faces. We decided to take a closer look.

Ignoring the angry shouts of his dad , Adi took my hand and we rushed to the park. As we moved in from behind, we heard the dead man speak

” look at yourselves. I have been dead since last night and you abandoned me here in the chill of the night whereas these mother and son came to me with concern and care even without knowing me.” He kept muttering something which we could not understand.

The group of people wore a puzzled look and their faces were while as snow.

I held Adi’s hand and whispered,” His eyes were closed damn it, how does he know we are mother and son ?”

Adi’s hands were moist but he kept staring at the dead man.” He looks dead all right ma. He is stiff and ..well… Darn .. it beats me what’s going on, let’s move out “.

A dead man sitting up and talking ..beats me as well