5. Dreams.
I stood there at the very top of the steep cliff. Barefooted, the grass tickled my feet in a pleasant way. The wind blew my long hair, whipping it across my face as I overlooked the sapphire-blue ocean. The water glittered like gems when it caught the Sun's ray of warmth.
This was my freedom, my escapade. No one was there to tell me to step away from the edge. No one was there to tell me to put my favourite flip-flops on. It was peace and serenity in the purest and simplest of forms.
It was a dream.
What are dreams? Are dreams just an escape from reality? A way to disenfranchise oneself from the world of constant strain and antagonism? I guess a dream differs from person to person. It can be a manifestation of the subconscious mind, something you crave for or somebody you lust. An ambition or a title you plan for your fantasy future. It can be from the past as you reminisce to an event you sorely want repeated or it can be unreal, delusional and the most pellucid form of radical nonsense.
Quite similar to the question on life, there is no specific answer to what a dream is. But I am certain that you can never stop a person from dreaming. As opposed to reality, dreams tend to be quite wonderful. A gateway to heaven or a bridge to amity. Who wants to accept reality? It's overrated anyway.
Like an explicit scene censored, my dreams are as unclear as the pixelated vestige of a stranger's past life. I dream of myself with unlimited knowledge of the universe and the power to soar through the clouds of uncertainty and cowardice. I dream of a utopian world without poverty, violence, traumas and heartaches from wars and abuse. Sometimes my dreams are out of this world, like time-traveling with an alien called the Doctor who wears bow-ties and thinks that no one is unimportant. Sometimes my dreams are simple, just to achieve enough in life to see the tears of joy forming in my mother's wise eyes.
I sit and ponder. What if reality was, in fact a dream? This world we live in, the stress, the joy of being with friends, the hollow we sometimes feel, the flavours of life, was just something we play in our heads and our dreams were real? Maybe I'm in denial of reality or maybe I've been watching too much of The Matrix.
Dreams are what makes a person human. It is a melting pot of emotions painted with ecstatic beauty into vibrant images in a person's mind. It is a sign of hope; that not everything in this world we live in is truly bad. It is a sweet escape from the heavy chains of burden and responsibilities we wear everyday. My point is, reality and logic is overrated and it only boils the fury in our hearts. Dreams on the other hand- dreams are beautiful. I am utterly grateful to God that He granted us this magnificent gift to dream because what is the point in living in a black and white world if you're not allowed to splash some colours in? In the simplest of words, dreams are an art you create. You, and only you, control the movements of the brush. Not the other way 'round.
