I don’t fly up high in my dreams anymore. I don’t get to have coffee with Bollywood stars; no playing with snakes. Not even making love to others’ boyfriends! Since a few nights my dreams have started becoming logical. They have started making sense, linking one scenario to another, sliding smoothly from one frame to another. This is just sad. My visions include convincing my parents for something that I stand for, receiving appreciation for some crap that wasn't even worth it, handling rejection for the work I actually gave my best to and getting my feeling crushed by someone I feel deeply for. What is this? Why am I seeing reality in my dreams? Why is life stalking me when I close my eyes, ready to be transported to another world of colours, beauty, humour and horror?
This is downright unfair. I have started to dream increasingly infrequently of people I have lost in real life. How do I make life understand that I can’t lose the sight of these people in my thoughts? Why is it depriving me of their dark yet comforting company? My mind at night becomes the site for perfectly written scripts from end to end, like that film-maker who is afraid to risk his narrative with open endings. I have to say it- the imaginations of my mind have become utterly boring. I used to be a bold heroic character in the romantic imaginings of the night- confessing my love in the most poetic manner, daringly staring into his eyes while he blushes and then laughs at my audacity. And now,I feel a tangible desperation to say it but simultaneously nudged by a sensible silence to stop. Damn! I hate this! I miss the magical times. I do not wish to dream anymore and real life has too many self-proclaimed ‘rationals’. I feel hopeless. Wish my visions would return.