Pasture of Dreams

 

I had this target to earn a certain amount of income by a given date, a stiff ask. Never the less, It wouldn’t let me sleep in complacence. Sometime in the evening I had gone to this movie to unwind, a no brainer. It starred a feisty actress, bronze-complexioned with luscious lips. She was the only memento I took home from the movie apart from the digested popcorn enroute my intestine. I had a rendezvous with her the same night in my mindspace at my favourite coffee joint.

Which brings me to the question, are dreams our wake up calls to the realm of reality or the distraction from the same?


Since I’m a self confessed moviebuff who could gain weight around his hips with just a diet of tastefully made movies, most of my anecdotes would come from them. So much so that I could say that they’ve styled my Emotional Quotient, transcending beyond a gratuitous source of inspiration

.

Coming back to the topic, there was this gem of a movie by the name, Kakka Muttai(Crow’s Egg) I happened to watch a fortnight back. Must say it was a rare connoisseur’s delight, that appealed to the purists while holding the hoi polloi at sway, hoots & wolf whistles testimony to that.

This movie is a story of two urchins from an impoverished slum, who make a living out of collecting coal pilfered on train tracks. They happen to come across a newly opened pizza joint at a neighbourhood nearby and are completely consumed by the visual of strands of cheese stretching with every slice pulled out, shown in endless loops on TV. From aisles southwards, their new found love seems at an inaccessible altar northwards of prosperity, notwithstanding which they salivate at the experience, vicariously so.

Kids that they are, see means overlooking the constraints scattered across the path to their dream. This dream gives them many a sleepless nights, takes them on a life altering journey that tests their desperation, while questioning their character all at the same time. In the end, they find themselves pulling out a slice of pizza, with strands of cheese in a dramatic climax.

Which brings me to the point, a dream is not something which we see when we sleep, but the one that doesn’t let us sleep. It is sometimes the soul’s reckoning, while being an anchor that doesn’t let us stray when in pursuit of a well founded passion.


While life as it is, is yardsticked by one’s intelligence, dream is an extrapolative space, with a frontier that stretches to the tenacity of his imagination. The manifestations that we come across in the realm of our dreams, could be of two types-aspirations or affectations. The aspirations could be a product of unattainable desires,lacunae and constraints or a conjuring to a whiff of fresh ideas. While the affectations are often, exaggerated expansions of fear and guilt.

It is the way one harnesses his dreams, that defines the person that he is. It could be used to up the threshold, push boundaries or leverage the sub-conscious to think out of the box, for one thing that ran across as a thread connecting individuals who created eternal music, timeless paintings, inundating monuments that stood the test of times proudly was the fact that they were dreamers.

The lesser mortals, the lackadaisical ones use it as an escapist getaway, to rent time in a candy coated space with sensory agendas that were nipped before their sleep by reality, to wake up to an empty life again, with dried up saliva by the lip and wet pajamas as testament to the fun they had last night,

The ability to dream is each man’s knife and mirror, to cook food or slit throat with it shows the person one is. While the image that appears on the mirror, God or Devil, is corroborative of the person within. 

Dreams happen in the dichotomy of reality & possibility.His effort to act on it makes one,a Dreamer or an Achiever 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s