He hadn’t dreamt in a while, not for the past couple of months.
It was the best of times. Days would go by in a blur of content, commute, calls, coffee and cash. To and fro would he swing from destination to the next, as if he were the harbinger of joys, sorrows and everything in between for a discerning audience, engaged by employing multiple tones and genres of speak whenever suitable.
He stubbed his toe slightly, being jolted from an unconscious distraction, just when he had felt the oncoming rush of craving for coffee. His thoughts diverted from coffee to commute, along an assortment of lanes, automobiles, pedestrians and the spirit of adventure only an outdoor trip could provide. To his relief, there was an overcast sky, with more than a slight hint of rain in the offing. He decided to stay back in the commercial complex for another hour or two, unlike the throng of masses sweeping through the main atrium, making a dash towards the front doors, in a mixture of hurry and relief, only to relive the same process the next day.
He stared at the crystal LED display of the giant television adorning the ground floor, its letters proclaiming ‘community’ in big, bold letters, almost feting it of sorts, as if the word entailed a secret ingredient that were somehow part of a grander plan designed to downright revolutionize, if not disrupt existing ways of living, working and thinking. A big dream, a big vision, simmering in the deep recesses of the management’s brains, reinforced the idea from time to time that culture could be engineered if not downright sold in the free market.
Wherever he went, he saw his old dreams, as if the universe were goading him, enticing him to do something about it.
They were everywhere. Just hovering one shade below the surface level of this thoughts, as if swirling and sloshing around like a colloidal solution, intertwining themselves with his present thoughts. It felt as if he were a flow of bits among the gigantic stream of bytes parading as the universe. An important cog of a local network, but a disposable one among the larger scheme of things, or rather bytes.
He wasn’t a negative person by any stretch of thought. Speaking of which, who in their right minds would profess to be negative? No one, that’s who. Sometimes, he felt he had no control over his thoughts, reminiscing over the potential fact that maybe, just maybe, his life would have panned out differently than now, if he had had the right thoughts at the right time.
He wished he had.
Yet, sometimes when reality sought to undermine him through people, circumstances and luck, he figured it would be more prudent not to dwell upon them, but think of reality as a giant feedback loop, constantly being shaped by the ingenuity and interactions between living things across the planet. Maybe, his particular endeavor, much like a new born baby hadn’t found the right sets of parents to be nurtured and developed further.
This thought reminded him to speak to his parents.
Somehow, over the last few days he had developed a sense of duty, so to speak, an unconditional bond that told him, his parents, a product of their individual circumstances, with all their doubts, whims and thoughts, only sought to stay in touch with him, now that he was economically and socially independent of them.
He had no desire to change them. They were well past that, and sometimes he wondered what life would be like to step into their shoes for a day. He grimaced. He was completely different from them in every aspect.
Instead of pitying them for this difference, a product of technological progress more than anything, he would share a few simple aspects of his life. Like taking a picture of his morning stroll or his meals or some project that he was working on. He would make them a part of his world, not just rekindling their bond, but also spur their intellect.
He closed his eyes trying to day dream.
All he saw was a giant poster of himself, smeared with a substance akin to crude oil. Next, an industrial robot, whose metallic frame glistened under the artificial sun placed atop the factory floor. Next, a host of women he liked, adored, admired and respected. Immediately, his eyes flew open.
He hadn’t dreamt in a while.
Marijuana Maharaj 