Les rêves éveilles

The best dreams happen to you when you are awake.

It can be a silly one that makes you walk on the air, cross lines invisible, and transcend reality with a child's open mind. Or a profound one, causing an epiphany, letting you hold, comme on dit, "the infinity in your palms". And if you are lucky, sometimes they would just merge. Even if for a moment.

I wonder if i would dare to dream with such carefree abundance, ever again.

December 2007
-----
Ah it's a beautiful Friday afternoon, air is crisp with a touch of cold, and i have decided not to think or work for three full days. And if i may confide in you my friend, i am oh so happy and completely drunk on love, doomed crazy norm-defying love, wide-eyed playful bantering love that reminds me of 'golden days of my childhood'. Sigh.

We are rather different, r and i. Hell, he makes me crazy at times as i am sure i do him! Ah, sometimes i wish he would grow up and hold me still, but i bet he wishes i let my hair down and run with him instead. Who, me? The implicit bossy math prof? But you see mr jones, that’s why i dig him so much. He has seen the me that is invisible to my own eyes. Baffling, eh?

I am babbling again, aren't i? I do that a lot when i am happy or lost. Sorry mr. jones, r has a way of doing that to me, playing me in the highest and as effortlessly dropping me down to the lowest of the octaves- leaving me gasping for my breath. You know what i mean? Yet he doubts if he can make me happy. Ah, but you know that he already does, now don't you, mr jones? I wonder though (yeah i do that a lot too!), will his eyes twinkle in a suppressed knowing smile when we first meet, or grow dark in torturous anticipation...and oh the first glance...i think about it all the time. When i wake up, when i walk on the street, when i am holding a yoga posture, when i am falling asleep, the all-consuming thought of my conscious psyche...

I see myself in a faraway land, standing against a door half-open. I hear the door closing behind me as i enter the room, and hushed laughter of women as they push me in. The room is draped with flowers. A veil of flowers hang over the bed-posts, heady smell of jasmine and wood rose fills the air - all dusky in the warm glow of but two earthen lamps.

And then i see him, in the far corner of the room, in white groom's attire. Oh my! I want to say, 'God, r, you take my breath away!' but my tongue's all dry and palm's all sweaty, and i drop my glass of milk. I can see it falling down and down, spiraling in a motion too slow. I am all embarrassed, and from the corner of my eyes i see him rushing to my rescue; but the glass falls, and we break down in laughter as we both remember the significance of the nuptial milk...

And so my conscious dream begins...

-------

To those of you that dare to dream.