Interpreter of dreams

Dark dreams, dreams of love.
Dreams of hope, and haunting dreams.
She read them all...
After a night of dreams, everyone went to her,
just as she knew they would.
They wanted answers. And she had them.
For she was the interpreter of dreams.

She listened to them as they talked to her dreams.
And she read their faces, she laughed, she cried,
she gasped and felt the dreams like they were her own.
And so like that they got their answers and they passed the dream to her.

They needed her...but the truth was she needed them more.
She asked for no money, nor the gold
All she needed was for the dreams to be told.
For she was the interpreter of dreams.

You see, she had no dreams of her own. But she always had theirs.
Their dreams would hold her as she worked.
They would feed her, cajole her.
And when the darkness of the night would befall her,
they would hold her close so could sleep without loneliness.

But then something happened. Unexpectedly?
She felt something new. A new desire. Hope.
And slowly the people stopped coming. And so did their dreams.
The nights became unbearably lonely.
The people dreamed theirs dreams, but never came to her.
Had she lost the ability to feel theirs dreams.
Was she no longer the interpreter of dreams?

As she lay one night, no ones dreams to coax her to sleep.
For the first time in her life...she dreamed a dream of her very own.
And she became the interpreter of her own dreams.

Time

How long had I sat there doing nothing?
I am not sure.
Well, it was long enough.
I was bored. I was absolutely bored. Out of my wits bored.
How could I have become bored of something I liked doing so much?
But I suppose if you do it long enough, you eventually get bored.

As if suddenly, I realized how much time had passed by.
No, not the couple of hours. A much longer time.
An eon.
And here I was counting the time. Backwards.
It was no longer about the boredom, was it?
Or about what was to be done(wish it was).
It was all about what had and hadn't happened.

More importantly, what hadn't happened.
Because what hadn't happened was what caused what had happened to happen.
Pathetic.

Dance Dance Dance

Dewy leaves. Whistling wind.
Billowy gowns, with handsome bows.
Bright smiles. Sparkly eyes.

Chitter chatter.
Black carriage.

Bright cheeks.
Wisps of hair flying everywhere.
Greetings. Gossiping.

Piano notes on the floor.
Sing Song. Sing Song.

A look here a look there.
A smile sly. A smile shy.
Yes with excitement! No with politeness?

Hands in hands. Step by step.
Dance dance dance. AND. Dance dance dance.

Deafening Solitude

The ditch when seen seemed small enough.
Yet that is when you aren't being asked to jump down it.
Or being forced to. Or being pushed into.
I was wearing my white pants that day. A constrast to the dirt.
The bus dropped me off at the bus stop, along with others.
But instead of going home I was being asked to jump down that ditch. Being forced to.
I didn't want to. I really didn't. The ditch seemed never ending.
The bottom, dark, full of dirt, stones.
But before I knew it, there I was standing at the edge. Staring down.
My stomach turned. Nausea getting a hold of me.
Was it the prospect of the jump that really made me nervous?
I held on. I wasn't going to jump. I was not going to let them make me jump.
A step back. A yelp, a taunting word.
And then a push.
I was flying. And then falling.
The smell of dirt filling my nostrils. Its taste on my mouth. The stones piercing.
Yet the laughter was worse. Far worse. And then salty tears.
A few moments. In that turmoil. In that awkward position.
Eventually the laughter ceased. Everyone had left.
A deafening silence.
A new calamity. How to get back up.
How to get back up.
How?

The one behind the smile

A smile without the wrinkles near the eyes,
that's always a given, regardless of what.
A real smile...rarely seen, like rain on a parched land.
So good at masking the real pain, hiding everything from everyone, all the time.
So few times can the real feeling be seen, fluttering over the face, momentarily.
Where does the strength come from? The persistence? The resiliency?
I don't know.
Hope? Or the strong will to never do any wrong to another.

Blame. The blame on oneself, for others mistakes.
Doing no wrong, yet feeling as if she has.
Doubting the natural feelings as being unnatural.

The smallest of joy make her truly happy.
Yet these small joys rarely seem to come her way.

But nonetheless I have hope for her.
The tunnel is long.
But I see the light at the end of the tunnel.

And I hope my eyes aren't playing tricks on me.

__________________________________________________________________

For you...

You know who "you" are.

"Tum itna kyu muskura rahe ho...kya ghum hain jisko chupa rahe ho"

Thinking...

Here I am thinking about it again. Its always triggered by something...maybe recalling an old memory, or reading a random conversation. Here I am thinking about something entirely different but it somehow leads to me thinking about this. Its annoying really. Not just the whole thinking part but also the fact that I am thinking about it. So why am I annoyed...because I find you fickle. But that's absurd...I mean how can I say that, when I barely understand you. Just because I knew of your dark memories long before you told me doesn't mean I know you. Hell...I never understood you...nor will I ever. And what else is annoying....ooh the fact that....you never tell me anything...I mean you do, but not what's important. You will tell me something significant...and then the next time you will act like you never told me that. One day its one thing, another day its something else. And what do you really think of me. Or should I say....what am I to you? Again one day you'll act in a certain way towards me...and the next day a complete flip. So what is the truth. What you said yesterday? What you said today? Or what your going to say tomorrow? Or were you speaking the truth all three days? Even when they were paradoxical?...why I am thinking of all this? Really what am I to you...most probably...a bystander....a friend who is a stranger....but really why such secretiveness, why such fickleness....am I judging you? I should stop....because I have no right to judge you...because I really don't know you...not that I should judge even if I knew you, but for that matter there won't be any judging then because hell then I would just know you. Ok....I should stop this. Now. The thinking. As I have always when I start thinking about this....

Changes

The names on the list bought tears to my eyes.
Not just the names themselves.
What they indicated. What they meant.
But it wasnt just that list and those names. It was all the news going around.
The changes bought on to others lives.
Not mine but others.
Even though I am not taking those steps. Its not I who is moving on. It still feels very real.
It feels as if it will happen to me too, all of a sudden.
And that is scary.
Ofcourse I am waiting for some changes. But other changes I feel I am not ready for.
I will miss all these people. Those who are taking the next step. Those entering a new phase in their lives.
Good luck to you all. May all your dreams become real. And all your expectations stay true.

"Everything changes but change itself. Everything flows and nothing remains the same..."