Dreams amid nightmare

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