Journey of a dream

[ I read a poem by Paash when I was in school, which said "सबसे ख़तरनाक होता है सपनों का मर जाना" - roughly translated to "The worst thing to ever happen, is when dreams die". I can testify it to be true! Sometimes the rift between your dreams and reality is so much that they feel like a burden and it seems best to bury them and let them die. But this post os not about the death of dreams, in fact, it is about dreaming again :) ]

A cloud of a dream..

Rose up from my being

Formless at first -

A mere wish

Taking shape, changing colours

Realising, gradually

How beautiful it is - beyond words,

Yet

Within my sight

So close

That if I just reached out

It could be mine!

I chase it around with a child-like joy

jumping over rivulets and creeks

I follow it through valleys

climb all rugged rising peaks

It makes my heart flutter

In equal parts of joy and fear -

What if it's not meant to be?

What if it disappears in thin air?

"I've just called, to say...."

Phone calls - I would dodge them, avoid them, won't make them. Unless absolutely critical. Unless it is a part of my daily routine.
It is not some introvert schtick I'm putting up which would make me more endearing nor am I making an excuse (okay it might be that). It is this squeamish feeling inside my chest, the feeling of my voice box being in knots and the quivering voice that comes out when I first begin to talk. As cliched as it might sound, I have let out many sighs of relief when the person I'm calling doesn't pick up - the speed at which I send a follow-up text is, I think, only beaten by the speed of light!
I'm not entirely a loser when it comes to communication - I would rather write you a 10 page essay than make or take that call.
What is it, I mean, what is it about phone calls!?!
I often think to myself.
What is this vulnerability that I feel that comes along? What is this scary sense of intimacy - your voice and its intonation ready to betray you and convey to the listener all that you might be feeling - in real time! There's hardly any time to cover up!
But when I let go of a little bit of my inhibition, the things that irk me become the most rewarding! Once I have crossed a certain threshold - once this feeling of...ummm...what is it...acceptance? Yes feels like it... Once that creeps up on me, in a good way, then I'm there to stay! Then I'm an ace listener, a witty interjector and a fine storyteller (or that is what I would like to tell myself and have others believe). Then reading and understanding the emotions in the speaker's voice becomes a delightful exercise and concluding a conversation becomes a little sad.
Sweet sweet dichotomy!

Okay then, I have some calls to make that I've been postponing for months! Bye!

Expecto Patronum?

Well I sure as hell cannot recall a happy time

It is a painful exercise

(Ah, sweet irony!)

Let alone a potent one...

(I feel you, Hagrid)

I'm screwed!

But so are the dementors -

There's nothing for you to feed on,

So go ahead and move along!

The Cure for Sadness

I turned to books
Drowned and escaped,
I turned myself into one
To be read by anyone who comes in kindness, without judgement
Or even vice-versa

I turned outwards
Absorbing the sun, letting it seep down my pores
Closed my eyes and felt the breeze against me
Traced the path of leaves as they left the branches, twirled and gently set foot on the ground
Saw the flowers smiling, noticed them more
Even tried letting go of my disdain for rain
(It doesn't make me as gloomy now)

I turned inwards
I thought and thought
and thought some more
Where did I leave trust? Where did it leave me?
When did self doubt creep in and formed my first skin?
Where did it begin, when does it end?
Is it the person or the idea I'm in love with?
Is it worth mulling over?

I turned to silence
I stayed still
On that hot summer afternoon
The whirring of fan, loose hair strands 
Whirling like dervishes
The rise and fall of my breath
Were the only signs of life

I turned to noise
Giving audience to people unknown far away
Filling silences with sounds
And overdoing it all
Buried myself willingly under the information overload

I ran - literally and metaphorically
Even in my dreams!
But there was only so far I could go
From the mounds of my failed endeavours

I turned to optimism
But I could not find it in myself
To sugarcoat an ending
My hands quivered 
To spill out words
Like "acceptance" and "learning"
I chose to settle for my truth

I couldn't find the cure to sadness
Now I let it haunt me sometimes.