DREAMS UNLIMITED

I was probably a three year old.  I am not sure.  I was yet to join a school.  One afternoon after a sumptuous lunch, I fell asleep.  Suddenly I heard a noise and saw a man pushing a sewing machine.  For a moment I thought he was taking away my mother’s “Usha” machine, but the machine was a different one.  Since I was uneducated, I could not identify the name etched on his machine.  My mother woke me up as it was dusk and it was and still is considered inauspicious to sleep at that hour.   I was very confused and looked for the sewing machine, which was safe in the corner of the room.  I got up, opened the gate and walked barefoot to my neighbour’s house which was a few yards away to play with their daughter, which was my routine.  Our colony was evolving on a farmland and there were very few houses in the vicinity.  My world comprised of just four houses including ours.  I had absolutely no exposure to the outside world.  I reached my neighbour’s gate and as I was about to open, I saw a man pushing a sewing machine on the road and coming towards my neighbour’s house.  The machine was fixed on a wooden plank with wheels; just the same way I had seen while I was asleep.  I was shocked and could not comprehend what was happening.  That was the first time I was seeing a tailor, leave alone a mobile tailor.  My mother stitched all our clothes and so did the women in the neighbourhood.  I didn’t understand the phenomenon.  What I had experienced while I was asleep was a dream and it became true.  I didn’t discuss it with anyone, as I didn’t know the word “dream” in any language and the experience was confusing.  That marked the beginning of my dreams.

Sometimes my dreams turned out to be true.  Many times not.  Most of the dreams were weird, silly and impossible.  During the black and white era, my dreams were also black and white.  After I started watching a colour TV, my dreams turned multi-coloured.  I can’t say if they are colourful.  I always enjoyed my dreams and preferred not to discuss them with anyone.  They were occasional nightmares and whenever I experienced them, I made noise or cried or moaned, as I slept.  My parents helped me with a glass of water and chanted prayers in my ears to enable me to have a peaceful sleep.  Though I now sleep in a different room, my parents say I still make noise in my sleep once in a while and they don’t offer me water or prayers as they are sure, I will become noisier if I am disturbed while I am asleep.

I was in my fourth standard and we were going on an excursion and reached the school early.  My classmate Sujata, who stayed closed to our school didn’t turn up.  Our bus started without her.  The previous night, in my dream, I saw a coffin being brought out of an aero plane and I heard some one saying it was Sujata’s uncle.  When she did not turn up, I narrated this dream to my friends.  They didn’t believe me.  They made fun of me and said that I must have overheard our teachers discussing about her absence and happily woven a story.  I never knew about Sujata’s uncle living in a different town or have never heard of or seen airlifting a deadbody till then.  Though I was hurt and felt insulted, I could not convince them. After we returned to school, Sujata came and informed that she had lost her uncle at Hyderabad and his body was brought to Madras by air.  I did not attempt to discuss my dream with her, but I was convinced that some dreams certainly come true. 

As I was growing, I dreamt regularly – consciously during daytime and unintentionally in the nights.  I was uninhibited and highly optimistic during my growing phase and my dreams were very pleasant and I prefer to take them to my grave.

A couple of year’s back, when my brother visited us with his family, his long lost friend made a surprise visit to our house.  As the men in my house were chatting in the living room, I was sitting with my nieces and sister-in-law in another room.  The previous night, in my dream, I had met my brother’s friend in reference, who told me that he had lost his job and had sought my help.  I could not resist my temptation to discuss this with my nieces and told them my experience.  My sister-in-law interfered and said it was impossible, as the friend was very well placed.  I didn’t argue.  After a while, the friend had left and my nieces rushed to the living room and told my brother about my dream.  To everyone’s surprise, what I dreamt turned out to be true.  The friend had lost his job and was going through a bad phase and he had returned to Chennai after disposing off his properties in the town he was living.  Though he did not seek my help, he requested my brother to get him a job.  My nieces were spellbound.

I continued to dream and on occasions I had nothing else to do, I thought of chronicling my dreams.  Though I dream throughout the nights, I can only recollect the ones I experience just before I wake up and I forget most of them by the time I brush my teeth.  Documenting them is certainly an impossible task.  I think it is the same with everyone.  Even in films, dream portrayal is absolutely non-realistic.  The best dream sequence I have seen is from the English film Mask. 

I have not read Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams, but read in many books that dreams are manifestation of our own thoughts.  I don’t know how I or for that matter anyone else can dream about unfamiliar things.

In the last few years, I was unwell and was getting treated for different ailments.  One of the side effects of medication I experienced was lack of dreams.  I did not discuss it with the doctors treating me as I was sure that they would attribute it also to my obesity.  I was very agitated when I was unable to dream.  In a phased manner, my treatment was over and slowly I got back into my dream world. 

My dreams now revolve mostly around my work and hobbies.  I do a systematic review of my work in my dreams and many times I have identified mistakes and errors in my work in my dreams and made corrections the next day.  I get a lot of creative ideas in my dreams.

I feel the happiest way to live is to keep dreaming.  Our memories should never outweigh our dreams.

Happy Dreaming!

POST DATED

January 2, 2062

I am yet to recover from the shock.

My friend for more than half a century, Sri Vivek Joshi, left this world a month before.  He was the first person to greet me on 2061 Diwali.  When I neither received his New Year greeting message nor a reply to mine yesterday, I got suspicious and called over the phone.  His grandson and his namesake picked up the phone and passed on the shocking information to me.

I first came across his name in 1990, when I started my career as a trainee.  My first assignment was to assist the HR Manager (then known as the Personnel Manager).  I had to sort all the important papers bundled and stuffed into cardboard boxes over a period and file them in the respective “personal files” which were supposed to be confidential.  Young and creative I was, left in a large air-conditioned room alone with a few boxes and several files for company, I started drawing imaginary pictures in my mind, of the persons whose files I was handling, based on their names and handwriting and cross-verifying with their photographs in the files.  On reading the name “Vivek” the first image appeared in my mind was that of Swami Vivekananda, but since Vivek was then working in Gujarat, I thought he would resemble a stereotype “Sethji” in Tamil films and zeroed on a combination of Swami Vivekananda and Devan Verma, the Hindi actor and with great curiosity opened his file.  I was shocked.  There was a black and white photograph of a 16 or 17 year old resembling an undernourished   jawan.  Probably, he had sent the photograph taken for his hall ticket during his college days.  I didn’t dare to discuss this with anyone.  My training got over and I became very busy with work and I had forgotten about this episode.

In 2002 October, I met him in person for the first time.  He was promoted and was about to head a Zone and had come to Chennai to attend a training session in a hotel.  Another colleague and my best friend, who was also attending the same training session sneaked out of the venue and came to our office to meet me and congratulate, as that was the day my programme was first aired on All India Radio, Chennai.  Vivek accompanied my friend to the office and we were introduced to each other.  “Congratulations” I said enthusiastically, referring to his promotion.  He said a formal “thank you” sans emotion.  My first impression of him was certainly not a good one.  I felt he was very reserved and timid.  He came back to office the next day and sought my help to get a ticket to travel to his hometown, as his just born daughter was sick.  This was the reason for his sadness the previous day and I cursed myself for being judgmental.

Two years later, I again met him in a residential training programme organized at a resort.  I was the only female participant in a group of thirty.  He was very confident, cheerful and humorous; very different from what he was the first time I met.  He cracked jokes every now and then.  He was very protective and chivalrous and escorted me when I went for my morning walks.  I started addressing him as Bhai Sahib and our friendship had begun. 

The Company we worked for was liquidated and we were all shattered and got scattered.  Though I never met him after that, technology helped and we communicated through phones, mails and networking forums and never missed wishing each other on important festivals.  Bhai Sahib had a good sense of humour.  Once by oversight, I messaged “Happy Diwali” on a New Year and he replied “Happy Holi”.

Both his daughters did well in their studies and made him proud.  Their careers took them to several countries and Bhai Sahib traveled with them to every place and except Antarctica, he visited every continent in the world.  He lived a fulfilling life with his wife, daughters, sons-in-law, grand children and great grand children.  The nonagenarian died in his sleep peacefully, smiling.  Probably he was cracking a joke in his dream!

Bhai Sahib, we miss you and your messages.  May your soul rest in peace!

P.S.  What do we do when we have to make a payment and don’t have enough bank balance, simple – just issue a post dated cheque.  When I was asked to write an obituary and I didn’t have a heart for it, I just followed the same principle, wrote a post dated obituary.