I dream in colour. In textures. In scents. I see, touch, and even taste. My dreams are so vivid that they often feel as real to me as reality itself.
Through dreams I escape into another world. They whisper stories and draw me away from the pedestrian into the uncommon. Sometimes I know that I am dreaming. Memories of other dreams surge forth, and in remembering I take flight, journey to distant lands and uncover secrets that lay hidden to everyone else. They inspire. Dreamscapes.
I meet loved ones in my dreams. Sometimes they are living friends and family, sometimes they come to greet me from the world of shadows, as alive to me in that moment as they were when I last held them in my arms.
But there are strangers too. Both friends and foe.
Tonight I had an unexpected visitor. It was the second time he made an appearance. I did not know what to make of it the first time around. I am yet to make sense of it now. My visitor was neither known, nor unknown to me. He was OM.
I wish I had the skill of a portrait artist, or at the very least know someone who could sketch OM in a MAN WANTED-style. Lacking both, I have delved into the google universe in hunt for an image that would come close to his dream-self. Meet OM.
His first appearance is still fresh in mind. Three days past, the voice he shared in his vlogs seeped into the dream, and seated around a small coffee table, we talked. He spoke of “once upon a times,” of poetry and prose, of his hopes for the future. A man of no regrets and relentless in his pursuits.
Then again, last night, there he was on my doorstep. Something was wrong.
“We must go. Now,” he said.
I picked up my coat and we were on our way.
He didn’t have to tell me neither where we were going, nor what had to be done. I knew. I knew as only in dreams you can read the other’s mind and their harsh reality crisps up within you becoming yours.
I felt no fear. No apprehension. The danger that awaited beyond the comforting bustle of that Bloomsbury street on a Saturday morning, was nothing when compared to what awaited the world if we did nothing about it. It had to be done. There was nothing more to it.
It was a call to arms, and neither waivered in crossing the threshold into the darkness that lurked just out of sight.
You can find OM @ HarsH ReaLiTy http://aopinionatedman.com/harsh-reality-blog/