Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts

Friday, July 22, 2011

In my Dreams

In my dreams,
The world is Green
With so many streams
Trees rustle and preen.
Hearts are Warm
Gentle winds in the Palm
Night stars shine  bright
People shine their light
Such wondrous dreams, I dream

In my dreams
Lives filled with love
Kindness rides on the wings of dove
Passion in every hearts cove,
Humanity reigns every soul
Children and elders part of a whole
Youth, hardworking and fair
Truth, every soul does share.
Such wondrous dreams, I dream

Each time I wake
I sigh, knowing it was a dream
Wishing never to wake
The next time I dream.

Friday, May 28, 2010

Creative Challenge #103 - Dreams in the Blue.

I did crop the picture

Dreaming, isnt a unique trait.  Everyone dreams when they are asleep. Some wake up and remember what they dreamed, some dont remember having dreamed at all and some wake up feeling like they forgot something, yet dont quite know what it was.  There are some who dream during the Day. Its easy to recognize them.  They have a perpetual lost looks on their faces when they temporarily wake up in the middle of a meeting or a conversation.  The others around them are usually annoyed 'cause the dreamers werent paying attention to what the others considered important. Dreamers dont satisfy the others need to feel important.  Dreamers go to places which arent on a map.  They arent aware of  the almost drowning in the deep waters, or the almost falling off the cliffs, or that walk through the hot lava, or those thorns that tore their soles but couldnt touch their souls.  I envy them the most, for they know where they want to go even without the Knowing. They have a glimpse of being more than their bodies and the material realities around them.

If anyone asked Ria what she wanted to be when she grows up. she would probably shrug her shoulders and think(not say) "A dreamer?"  Her favorite things to do were - being lost in thoughts, listening to stories and songs from grandma, and sleeping.  She never understood, why everyone got mad at her without her doing anything, literally.  Her parents would ask her to repeat the instructions they give and Ria would think "Why?  I heard it already", while repeating word for word.  She gets them right everytime but when she does, the instructions get forgotten... Not intentionally, for somewhere in the doing, her mind took flight into the open sky and she wasnt aware of it.  She would soar in the Blue like the Eagles she watched from her 3rd grade classroom window. Flap her mighty wings and glide through the air, looking down, enjoying the miniature view from above.  She would imagine these mini houses, animals, people in her doll house, so colourful, pretty, happy.  Her teachers would come up to her desk and tap with the foot long wooden ruler for every word "Ria, Pay Attention to the Lesson".  The noise of the ruler intrudes on her thoughts and the eagle suddenly fell to the ground and the doll house exploded.  Her teachers would send a note to the parents asking them to help her focus, concentrate on her work, maybe take her to a psychiatrist as she probably has a mental problem.  Ria tried her best to not make the teachers mad.  She is quiet in class, she isnt disruptive, she does her homework on time, doesnt fail her exams or tests, her parents help her with their constant reminding.  Yet her inattention during class, her lack of focus, her easily being lost annoyed most of her teachers.

Her parents were worried.  When no one was watching, her mother would sigh, look up at the imaginary blue like as if Her God sat in that expanse, listening and ask in a murmur "what will become of her?" Her father would console her mother with the words "Dont worry, it will get better as she grows, we need to be patient."  Her classmates knew "She's always like that, she'll join when she wants to".  Funnily they were the youngest of all the groups of people she was seen with yet they knew how to treat her well. Her Grandmother, was the only one, whose very thought, filled Ria with warmth, from her hugs, her talking, her sweet songs, her beautiful stories of Kings, Queens, Heroes and adventures. Grandmother was the one person who Ria loved deeply, from who she felt the kind of love she needed.  A beautiful smile would break out on Ria's face at the thought of Grandmother.

Ria loved the nights, as it meant she could dream uninterrupted for those hours.  She dreamed of beautiful places. Places with people who arent mad at her, with children who are laughing and playing.  A place which had no concept of school, homework, exams, scoldings, hurry, worry, sighs or cries. Places with coloured sand and colourful waters, and when she looks up, inspite of the fact that it is night where she is, the Sky is Blue, a light, Light Blue. And she sees herself stand there on the hill's top blending with that Blue, becoming a speck of light.  Nobody around, No body to restrict her floating in this Blue to her hearts content. In this Blue, Ria was happy being Ria.

Tour Creative Challenge #103 - Blue

 

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Dreams and wasted tears

I sat in the dark watching the stars
And tears flowed
A star took pity and asked
Why are you crying?
I said, you are so far
I cant dream of reaching you.

I walk through the forest admiring the Sequoia
And tears flowed
One sapling asked
Why are you crying?
I said, you are so Straight yet flexible
I cant dream of being like you.

I walked across the flowing river
And tears flowed
One droplet asked
Why are you crying?
I said, you always find your way and flow so Gracefully
I cant dream of flowing like you.

I climbed the Mountain
And tears flowed
One little rock asked
Why are you crying?
I said, you stand so strong and firm
I cant dream of being like you.

I sit down, tired
Wiping the tears,
You walk up to me
Hug me tight, asking
"Where were you?
I missed you so".
And I think - What a waste of all those tears.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Who Are You?

Memories are strange things. There are times when I cant tell if what I know is a memory of something that happened or if it is a dream from some other place.  There are memories of places, people and times that I am sure I have not met in this life of mine. 

 

 If I were to pinpoint the exact time my heart felt you, I should go back a few lifetimes, hard as that is to believe.   I feel your presence around me, even when my eyes don’t see you. I know your thoughts like I do my own thoughts.  I feel your touch like I feel the passing breeze that caresses my face on a cool summer day.  People say I am a Loner but I am never alone, never really alone. 

 

There are days when you appear.  I am not sure if it is my dreams or if it is your world.  But I see you as clear as the Moon on a dark night.  I see your impish yet wise face, dark hair and the glint of mischief in your eyes, that endearing smile on your lips that makes dimples on your cheeks.  We have pleasant walks over beautiful meadows overlooking mountains, picking flowers or along the river bank feeling the wet soil or the sand or a trail in the woods with the sounds of songbirds.  We frolic in the waters,  pick fruits from laden trees,  walk amongst the gentle animals or sometimes pet the Big Cats. Sometimes we share long conversations, or very comfortable silences with smiles that warm our insides, the kind that leaves joy and peace within my self as I come out of the fog.  I always know I will see you again, that the coming of the fog only means that our time with each other was up for my day.

 

I never remember the conversations except for the feeling of being happy.  But the words you said come to me at certain times in my life, like a reminder. It feels like as if its something my elder has taught me, like as if I already knew, like its part of me but really not from me. 

 

It makes me curious…who are you?  Are you a visitor from my past or part of the present or will be part of my future?  There are people who remind me of you, like you split yourself into those many others.    You feel like a friend almost bordering someone I love but I also feel an unseen line that we are careful not to cross. Nothing is said but is understood.  

 

Would a day arrive where the world where you are and the world where I seemingly am, could blend into One?   As I wait for an answer, I do wish for you to remain a part of me even if I don’t really know who you are.  It doesn’t matter, for I have my names for you so that I may claim you for myself—my soul’s guard, my place of happiness, my place of understanding who I am.

 

P.S. This is my entry for Creative Challenge #22 : Elusive Dreams. Tour Begins here

Monday, December 17, 2007

Who are you?

Memories are strange things. There are times when I cant tell if what I know is a memory of something that happened or if it is a dream from some other place. There are memories of places, people and times that I am sure I have not met in this life of mine.

If I were to pinpoint the exact time my heart felt you, I should go back a few lifetimes, hard as that is to believe. I feel your presence around me, even when my eyes don’t see you. I know your thoughts like I do my own thoughts. I feel your touch like I feel the passing breeze that caresses my face on a cool summer day. People say I am a Loner but I am never alone, never really alone.

There are days when you appear. I am not sure if it is my dreams or if it is your world. But I see you as clear as the Moon on a dark night. I see your impish yet wise face, dark hair and the glint of mischief in your eyes, that endearing smile on your lips that makes dimples on your cheeks. We have pleasant walks over beautiful meadows overlooking mountains, picking flowers or along the river bank feeling the wet soil or the sand or a trail in the woods with the sounds of songbirds. We frolic in the waters, pick fruits from laden trees, walk amongst the gentle animals or sometimes pet the Big Cats. Sometimes we share long conversations, or very comfortable silences with smiles that warm our insides, the kind that leaves joy and peace within my self as I come out of the fog. I always know I will see you again, that the coming of the fog only means that our time with each other was up for my day. I never remember the conversations except for the feeling of being happy. But the words you said come to me at certain times in my life, like a reminder. It feels like as if its something my elder has taught me, like as if I already knew, like its part of me but really not from me.

It makes me curious…who are you? Are you a visitor from my past or part of the present or will be part of my future? There are people who remind me of you, like you split yourself into those many others. You feel like a friend almost bordering someone I love but I also feel an unseen line that we are careful not to cross. Nothing is said but is understood. Would a day arrive where the world where you are and the world where I seemingly am, could blend into One? As I wait for an answer, I do wish for you to remain a part of me even if I don’t really know who you are. It doesn’t matter, for I have my names for you so that I may claim you for myself—my soul’s guard, my place of happiness, my place of understanding who I am.