There were fine fragments of a wish,
scattered in my dream.
The wish did not have the power
to shape my dream.
When I saw the difference,
I woke up from my dream.
A light fell on me – and grew,
I knew it was not a dream.
I was composing this poem, last night, before I would return to sleep. I knew the poem was not complete, (only the first few lines had surfaced), so I let it breathe. As a rule, almost always, I can sleep as soon as I have touched my pillow. Commonly, I do not dream, the way people sweep statements of dreams. Last night, however, I had a long unbroken apparition leaving me to wonder on the fascinating capacity of dreams. Proclaiming startling clarity, from the opening to the closing, I saw a real legitimate tiger: coming down steadily from a green mountainous slope…. The essence of his youth and savageness are frightening me; the stark texture of his staunch body is settled in a subtle, the most beautiful orange with volatile black stripes. I am with a group of a dozen people – on a long-distance, sight-seeing excursion. The skies are grey and the clouds low. By nature, I am loving the persistence of the weather and the faint silent drizzle. The ramshackle chowki – the post, we have left behind us is now a few kilometers, away. We are on foot, rambling in the surroundings of a paradise like haven. I definitely feel I am not in this world; the constant vibrant colours of the flora are catching my attention: there is this particular prominent shrub bursting forth everywhere on the slopes and it is a floral delight in orange. ‘The tour’s bonus is the trekking part’, I am saying to myself, while feeling the dipping temperatures with affection. I am looking at a far away slope clad by motifs of the tall orange shrub, and then without hindrance I can see the tiger coming down. I am caught by its sight so aggressively that I feel the wild beast is only some yards away from me. I alert the group, and the only effort I make is to tell them to: Run! Run! I know, the tiger is designed to spot the runners but I run harder and faster. I am thinking of a member in our group who is not that agile to leverage sufficient speed. I am too scared to take my chance to go back and I curse myself for that. I reach the ramshackle chowki – the post appears eerie… it stands like a devouring creature before me. Here, I take my chance and enter the chowki. I look out of a place that is supposed to be a window. I look down and realize that I am at an elevation of no more than twenty or thirty meters. What do I see below? The same tiger standing like an awesome statue, looking at me! Giving me more, the illusion ends with the animal warming up to climb the wall. I am searching around for help, but no one is around.
Phew! What a dream! And to top it… burnished like, some Kodak moments of photography, or what! My dream revealed the attestation that though it had ended, yet, it was not going anywhere. Being safe from superstitions, I was not going to quarrel with the tiger who pursued me. May be, he was following me to sit together and purr with feelings of love and peace and harmony. Can dreams go in one’s head, to that extent! Please tell me! To think of it, now, I am actually drawing up the factual images of my dream, and I like it. How was the majestic animal approaching me? How did he want to join me? Every turn of the flash-back shows a tiger who was completely separated from his standard commitment of exhibiting those killer-teeth wedged firmly between his furious death-defying jaws; curiously, his face had the expression of a recluse. Even in the tiniest scale, I had not heard a squeak, leave alone a roar, from him. In an attempt to define the animal’s conduct, I keep going back to the vision. How can I forget that somber, undivided gaze, perhaps, asking for something from me! It was substantially clear that the tiger had not been tempted to be violent with the group: sparing the conspicuous numbers, though they were absolutely in the range of his view and natural instinct. From my position, my vision sighted no barter of blood or tragedy on the bewitching form of the creature. Yes, I can remember the enshrined pair of sparkling gems in those deep pools of grey-brown intense eyes. I had treated the scene with a tradition of fear and doom. Whatever assertions I choose, the imagination will re-run in my memory extensively, and even though I have nothing at all to exemplify in my skills: still, by the heart and mind of Joseph, (son of Jacob, from The Old Testament) I would like to go along quite well cherishing the theme of this dream. The keener interpretations, I leave to God!
Glossary.
Joseph – He was the son of Jacob, from The Old Testament. As a servant of God, he was able to interpret dreams, giving each man the interpretation of his dream. Joseph was taken to the Pharoah to interpret the powerful Egyptian ruler’s dreams.
Geeta Chhabra
