Keep the dreams coming

Bipin Malik 

I DO not know why I still dream of my childhood. The dreams come quite often. It is nice to wake up feeling the touch of my late mother in the dream, and the memories of the guava tree she had planted. 

I dream of my first school and the Christmas celebrations, when we used to act in Nativity plays. I remember Mrs John, a tall lady, at Mission School, Roorkee, as a child of about 5. She had thin, long hands and I was terrified of her. The school had a large garden with scented yellow flowers, where we used to eat our tiffin. 

It feels like a time machine when I dream of my parental house, and generally, I end up teary-eyed remembering my mother who always used to wait for my return from school.

I shiver as I dream of being stuck in niches or windows of a strangely designed house and on rooftops, with hardly enough space to stand, and no way to get down. I see this dream often; it isn’t pleasant. 

But the one I really like is the dream of my Apso called Betty. We treated her like a daughter and never allowed her to mix with street dogs. Not knowing then that dogs do not usually live beyond the age of 12, we always thought she was too small to bear puppies. She never became a mother. All her actions were like a small child’s and she never heeded when told not to go far away. She now hounds me in dreams. When I shout ‘Betty don’t go, come back’, she keeps moving towards danger. It leaves me exhausted when I open my eyes and find that it was a mere dream — she had died five years ago. 

I do not understand why I see myself overstaying at Goa, when I should reach home to my mother. Most of the time, I do not have train reservation, which was hard to get in the 1970s. I am unable to pack my stuff and make no efforts to reach home. It always leaves me with a headache when I wake up.

I believe we dream what we do not chase, but at the age of 60, it seems that dreams chase you and bring along dear ones to meet; the ones who loved you, the ones you loved back. What a wonderful mechanism our body has! Not only are you transported 50 years back in time, but also can experience the love of your mother, smell the sweet fragrance of school trees and speak to people you loved, in blessed dreams. 

That is why, I still love to hear from my grownup children, ‘Sweet dreams, Papa.’