I love my dreams. They are not always rosy and nice, but I love them anyhow. They give me a point to ponder, an opening to look into and find something webbed deep in something else. Once I wrote a story based on one of my dreams. I think dreaming is fun and it is educating too. I am not obsessed with the good or bad of dreams, I just take them as interesting chapters of an equally interesting book – LIFE.
Recently my primary care physician prescribed a medication that was giving me nightmares. I am not joking. Seriously. Serious nightmares. The night I take that pill, I am sure to wake up two or three times during the night because I was having a nightmare. I get out of bed, drink water, straighten my pillows and get into bed again. The funny part is, sometimes the dream will start again from where I had disrupted it. Me disrupting my dream! So does that mean these nightmares are churned by some machine and the machine has a cycle that has to complete itself? Weird. Isn’t it?
So a call to my nice doctor. He knew the side effects but its not that everyone has the same effect. He stopped it anyways. No more nightmares but I am not yet back to my previous pattern of dreaming. No dreaming is no fun. Really.
Do these Jehadies and suicide bombers dream? Can they? If they do; then of what? Dead bodies? – blown away body parts? – blood? – destruction? – carnage? But this is what nightmares are made of.
I wonder if they were devoid of feelings and emotions. Do they never fall in love? wish to spend life with someone? be part of someone’s life? Do they know what beauty is? And dreaming about a beloved’s face is so beautiful! Puts a smile on your face that you carry with you the whole day. Oh, do they know what they are missing in life!
I value my dreams. They keep me sane and give me sensibility.