Interestingly, I have often found studying about dreams to
be boring, and too abstract for comfort and logic. That perspective has not changed even now. That been said, I have been dreaming more
frequently these days – probably, the mind is not taking to the lockdown as seamlessly
as your governments will want you to. Whilst one's dreams may range from the
sublime to the most ridiculous, mine seem to veer close
to being ridiculous. A few nights ago, I dreamt that President Trump had appointed me
as his chief campaign manager – and was prying on me if I were doing my job
dutifully (or possibly just confirming if I were a CNN mole in his party cadre). The prying
manifested with him sheepishly coming into my room, an old second tier city
house in India, devoid of the White House grandeur, yet, big enough to not make the
president feel uncomfortable. He had come to check what was I up to ;
I even had a few papers in my hand ready to hand them over to him, and then saw
him recede back to where he came from, satisfied that I was doing my job well or
probably disappointed that he could not fire me – hard to tell.
Another dream had Lord Shiva standing next to my bed at 2 am !
This time I woke up with a startle, unable to fathom what had happened, and did
I just do the Darshan live? – My mom contests the latter. She feels, with a probable sense of anguish and sigh, that if with the age long prayers, especially the one meticulously done on Mondays the needle hasn't moved for her, I am cheating myself into believing that the lord could come for me - someone who is agnostic, bordering an atheist. I agree, a far fetched idea ; one clearly needs to elevate oneself to be worthy enough for that divine vision, a commonly acceptable belief in the religious parlance. My family may have contributed to the TRP of Doordarshan that saw peak viewership amid C-19, and may also be the reason for this dream. They have been airing all the bhakti series of the past (late 80s
and 90s) has seen extensive usage of my TV set at the prime time. Starting with Ramayana, then Krishna and now Vishnu Puran. Throw
in a bit of speaker amplified bhajans here and there during the day, and it
makes a perfect recipe to allow for a darshan – figment of my imagination, as mom
would call it, a Darshan, as I would like to believe. I am just glad thus far that Alif Laila with its million Jinns haven't made it to prime time, as yet.
Other dreams transport you back in time. You wake up helpless, not knowing what to do, feeling almost remorseful about waking up. Just last night, I dreamt of a beautiful, graceful lady in mine – oddly enough resembling someone I
probably know from my past – or may be even that was my imagination? Not sure. But that was the third time in a period span of these lockdown period that she was central to my dream. She was impeccably dressed in
white, hair tied in a bun, sitting cross-legged and talking to someone, having
snacks from a plate. I was somewhere near but didn’t have the guts to confront
her - I hid nearby just to get a glimpse, and gazed at her intently, nervously fixated
on one who remains the most beautiful woman I have ever met or seen - a thin
line of Kajal drawn to perfection across her eyes, the face shone with a hue of
red matching the most gracious of dawns, and the gloss of her lips almost
twinkled as if a lighthouse drawing sailors to it. It probably represented the
purity in her soul that mere mortals cannot comprehend. In another, she wore a checkered red shirt, was more accessible - I had graduated into being a friend, and already were discussing a glorious past in a playful mood. We even exchanged little notes, neatly and historically packaged into respective bottle which we could not probably share before - much like those messages in bottles at sea, that took years to reach a reader. No idea what to make of
such dreams.
Interestingly enough, the divine lady and the not so divine
President, were a part of the same dream. May be I needed the most powerful
person on the planet to help convey my feelings to her, or broker a friendship...who knows how the subconscious works! Or, maybe, showing both the sublime and the ridiculous in the same dream was God’s way of telling me that I was being ridiculous!
Image courtesy: Wallpaper flare
