The dream

In his dreams
He sees he is awake-
Pinching does not help
Pinching hurts, even in dreams.
In his dreams
His friends embrace him,
Love him, stab him
In the back, and say sorry.
In his dreams
The world is hazy,
Surreal, chimerical,
Empty, lonely, grey, gloomy.
In his dreams
His lover smiles,
And frowns, and disappears
And reappears and smiles some more.
In his dreams
There are no enemies-
The gun totting fellows
Share cigars and dirty jokes.
In his dreams
He feels he is in a coma,
And struggles to wake up,
And cries, without sound or tears.
In his dreams
He sees sunsets, and worries
That he has to reach home
And runs, and runs and is exhausted.
In his dreams
He shouts at beggars
And throws stones at mongrels
And loathes himself for it.
In his dreams
He sees rivers, and snakes
Lots of smiling snakes
That coil around his legs like children.
In his dreams
He gives speeches
To angry crowds, and wonders
What his speeches are about.
In his dreams
He searches for his mother,
Until he suddenly remembers,
That it is only a dream.
In his dreams
He worries that this might be for real,
That this might not be a dream after all,
And that there might be no awakening.

About Abhishek

I will let the blog speak for itself...or, at times, for me. View all posts by Abhishek

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