My Dreams. My Children.,

It is a basic human thing. We all dream. Maybe what we think is real is also a highly vivid, super ultra high definition, sophisticated simulation and a complex dream in which all relations, joys and pain are so real that we have stopped realizing that it is just another dream. This might be true and once the dream ends we wake up finding ourselves somewhere else and coming to know that all our lives, our families, relations, friends, loves and enemies were just powerful characters of our subconscious. I would be so proud of myself if my mind has created such amazing characters for this dream. Quite extreme characters exist from the beautiful ones with matchless beauty to ignoble one with mean hearts.

But what if this real life is the real deal. In that case, I am equally amazed with the intensity of the extremes of people. In the recent years movies have been made on the subject of dreams including The Inception which keeps shifting the narrative along dream-reality-dream path and makes one question about the reality of reality.

Each place I lived gave me scars I cherish, people I adore and lessons that enlighten the path of life even to this day. And were the dreams I see even today. The charms of these cities and the effect they had on my life penetrates deep. Lahore and Karachi run in my veins. I am equally influenced by both. Lahore gave some dreams which Karachi satisfied. What the eyes of a foolish boy dreamed were seen the eyes of a man in Karachi. Not all dreams turn real. Some dreams remain a dream forever. I met a man today who was living my dream, a dream I know can never become real. And he was still complaining about life. I feel that my dreams are like my children, some good and some scary. They live somewhere deep in the grounds of the heart. After meeting that thankless man, I followed a staircase deep down to that ground just to meet that dream of mine which can never climb to the outside reality. I met some other dreams too. They have no idea how cruel the outside world is, the world would never want them to become a reality. Here they play all day laugh and live worry free. But the moment they step outside, the butchers of society, religion, logic and morality will murder them. Here they will stay young forever. Like Peter Pan. I fell into the traps of time and grew up. I watched those dreams play and sing. Then I locked the door and climbed the stairs back to the sad real world.

The theme of this writing is the dream we see with our eyes wide open. That's the only dream which really matters. It can be more than one. Not all dreams are even remembered. That is why in 2010 I got myself a voice recorder which I keep next to my pillow when I sleep. It has happened that I have woken up in the middle of night and still remember the dream or the nightmare that made me wake up. But if I try to sit on the desk to write it, I would lose the trail of sleep and my mind would become fully awake making the dream disappear. And just after waking up, my hands don't have the energy to write in the best of flow with a check on grammar and spellings. That's where the voice recorder has helped. In the last three years I have successfully recorder more than two hundred dreams of all sorts. After I record a dream, most of the time I again fall asleep. Almost every time the sleep resumes but not the dream and when I wake up again, I had forgotten what I saw. Then I play what I had recorded and the dream comes to life again. Only this time I see it with my eyes wide open.
Aamir Bilal

July 15, 2013 / 04:28 PM / Karachi