Dreams: Beliefs & Superstitions

Today I am emerging from my comfort zone, into which I have slipped lately. When I started blogging, my topics were connected with human emotions and reactions of people. Non-fiction was my favorite genre of writing. 

Then I discovered my niche and got pushed by my muse most of the time. Poetry provided me a soft spot into which I immersed myself completely. I’ve almost abandoned writing about topics of human interest that still draw a lot of traffic to my blog.

This post is inspired from a recent discussion on dreams.

Dreams have remained a mystery yet they are unique experiences that are said to be significant, as they are a manifestation of our desires, feelings and emotions. They could be unexpressed thoughts or ideas that struggle to see the light of the day. My grand daughter says she often dreams that I am staying in her home forever, and asks me if it is possible.

Dreams could be as innocent as that one! 

Or as superstitious as this one: It is believed that morning dreams could be messages or warnings like the dream of a young lady who had an intuition that her husband was stepping into a risky business. She dreamt that he returns from his business trip with gray hair.

A dream that places you in some celebrations is considered to be a bad portent and is associated with potential bereavement in the family. Losing jewelry in such dreams is inauspicious. However, I have many times dreamt that I can’t find my jewelry box or my favorite necklace is missing but I have never faced any adverse effects! Probably some beliefs are so illogical.  

If you meet a dead relative or friend in a dream and you happen to give them something, that is said to be too bad. On the other hand, if they give you a gift, it is good. My aunt told me that her dead father-in law gave her two white pigeons in her dream and later she was blessed with twins.

Never respond to somebody’s call in a dream, that could be a call from heaven or hell!

My grandma refused to discuss a dead relative (a lady she didn’t like) for fear of her visits in her dreams. Whenever we would ask, “Ma, why didn’t you like her?” She always responded,” We’ll discuss that in the morning.”

If you keep returning to the same house in your dreams, it signifies your attachment to it. Probably that is your childhood home or you yearn to be there more often.

Being surrounded by water from all directions in your dreams or whatever route you take, if you are unable to escape, signifies anxiety. Since dreams are made of bits and pieces of our memory that blends past and present, they seem absurd like most of the times when I get surrounded by gushing water, I am riding a bike, which I used only as a teenager. Often I wake up from this recurrent dream, reaching nowhere.

A nightmare that I could never forget is that my car flies off a cliff and lands in a valley but I woke up with the impact.

Lucid dreams are most pleasant and everybody agrees that we can go back to sleep to continue enjoying them.

Some dreams can be as real as this one – whenever I can’t find a clean restroom to pee, I wake up with the realization that I actually need to pee!

In the dreams of my friend, who is an empty nester, her children are still small, running around in her home.

I’ve never noticed color in my dreams. What about you? I hope you have some dreams to share.
© Balroop Singh

Thank you.

Dreams #PoetryChallenge #Tanka

Theme-based poetry kicks my muse hard and when the theme happens to be “Dreams,” she rides on the waves, eager to explore each one. I tried to restrict her to one Tanka but another one just flowed. She has more in her pockets but I have reserved them for my next book.

A box full of dreams
She carries it with poise
Some just flutter away
Catching them is unrealistic
What is the fun of cluttering?

***

She buried her dreams
In the valley of despair
The deluge of tears
Drowned the irresistible
Empty-hearted, she sits forlorn.
© Balroop Singh

***

Inspired from Colleen M. Chesebro’s #ThemePrompt at wordcraftpoetry.com

Thank you.

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Anything for Dreams

There was a spring in her gait, an elation that propelled her, an eagerness to fly, a yearning to have wings! She had been invited by the university to receive her gold medal. She was the topper of the year. She had waited for this day.
How could she forget this day? The day her bones felt lighter. The day she broke some!
Now what?
“Let’s cancel the program. Your foot needs attention.”
“I am good,” Laila hid her pain with a wide smile.
She ignored the swelling on her foot and got into the car. No broken bone could deter her determination to receive the honor in person.

Thirty years after the fall that had changed her gait, she says, “Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy. Sometimes we take them for granted.”
“Do you regret your insouciance to injury?”
“Never.” Anything for dreams.

Louisa’s post inspired me to play with this prompt that I saw at Dare Boldly and followed the link: Prosery Prompt at D’Verse 

The rules and prompt are: 

“Write a story of 144 words or less (not including the title). The story must have a beginning and an end, and should not be poetry. Sounds easy enough right? Here’s the twist: You must use the poetry line I have given you within your story. You may alter the punctuation, but you must use the line in its entirety.”

Today, the chosen line is taken from Spring Azures from the book Wild Geese by Mary Oliver: “Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy.”

Respect Or Love?

“He who wants a rose must respect her thorn.”

“Choose one,” the command was loud and clear.

I was confused. How could I choose one? I didn’t know love and was too young to understand respect but I was argumentative and would always rise against the commands.

“I want both.” I spoke with immense confidence.

I was pushed aside. My turn was over. 

One by one each person was given a choice and they left the arena with the group they opted for. I kept on waiting. My blood boiled at the authoritative voice of the leader who took pleasure in his arbitrary designs on us. Who gave him this power to rule over our emotions? Why are we here? 

I looked around, trying to figure out the place. How did I reach here? Strange, stern faces stared at me.

“This is your last chance to choose,” I could hear some kindness in this voice.

“But why?” Before I could speak another word, I was dragged away into a dark alley and my sobs could be heard.

*****

Some dreams keep coming back probably because some notions remain dormant in our subconscious minds. Whenever I read a disturbing book about injustice, my mind hurtles back and transports me into unimaginable lands that I could have seen in movies.

Love – the basic emotion that connects us with life and people.

Respect – the essential trait that raises man to his civilized state.

How could anyone survive without them? This question has always haunted my mind and keeps coming back whenever I see or hear about any atrocities being inflicted on fellow human beings.

Love can still be pretended but respect can’t be faked. It reveals itself through our body language. 

“I love you.” “You are my best friend.” I have heard many such refrains from people around me but I could make out from their body language and actions how selfish their love was. It changes its contours according to the situation.

Respect cannot be claimed. It shows itself, it reflects in the eyes. It is an offshoot of love.

Can you choose one? Yet there are people who have none. 

Thank you for reading and pondering. Please share your thoughts.

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They Soar Higher Than Clouds

storm-clouds-1-1
Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto

Dark, rumbling clouds stirred him out. He stretched and looked around. Some of his friends were flying high but he couldn’t miss the sound – muffled yet clear.

“What are you digging?” Vendatta stood at the edge of the valley.
“Souls.”
“What for?”
“To lend… to exchange.”
“Really? But souls are said to be free. They soar higher than clouds.”
“Beliefs don’t misguide me. I know my passion.”
“Where do you find them?”
“Some are buried and some fly high. Some I capture and bury.”
“Can you lend me one?”
“Sure,” said the Digger.
“Can I keep it forever?”
“Depends! If you have the inclination and the strength.”

All his depression melted.
Vendatta was a changed man now. He knew his destination.

Thanks to Sue Vincent for an inspiring Thursday #writephoto prompt Soar

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