(This is a poem retelling a dream which I had someday back.)
I walk in a train,
Running across a stream,
I look down and find no tracks
Shit!! I am again in a dream.
It cuts a corner
And stops near a mosque.
A priest comes out with a smug face
I wonder if that is a face or a mask.
I wanted to rip off his face
And solve the mystery.
He was annoying me, so like a true Delhite,
Verbally wanted to remind of his ancestory.
The priest came close
And ripped off his face to reveal a skull inside.
No blood came out
The face was the mask and the mask was the face,
If not for horror, it was modern world’s guide.
I jump back into the train
To flee away from the skull.
And I realized that my dreams are awesome,
While my waking life is mostly dull.
I made a mental note to sleep more often ,
Trying to save my life from skullface while on run.
Thinking that if I had such dreams in college,
I wouldn’t have missed out on such fun.
Then I tried to hide in a toilet,
Again the skull was the shape of commode.
It had tentacles sprouting of it,
Beckoning and warning at the same time, in the same mode.
The train then stopped near a village,
A village I lived in when I was a kid.
Those by-lanes I could never remember while awake,
In the dreams, they all came back. They did.
There bandits were running amok,
I had heard bandit stories while I was a child.
While awake they are clouded by reality,
In the peace of sleep they came back from the wild.
Out of the blue, I heard a screech,
Of the unmistakable arrival of the train.
I could have been a jeep , but I prefer to recall it as train
For I would never want those bandits to hound my life again.
I hopped on it,
Preferring the skull to the flying bullet.
Skull was frightening for sure,
But wanted to get as far from death as I could get.
But the skulls were not there,
It became dark and the train shuddered.
I looked and it was falling through a drain
A chill passed through me as I realized,
GOD!! I AM THE TRAIN.
And after that I obviously woke up as you can never die in your dreams.