Should I Stop Dreaming?

Should I Stop Dreaming?
I long to be where life lives. My days are going to be lit with a golden glow when I reach the land of my dreams. I am quite impatient to be where I want to be. I want to walk hand-in-hand with life when I get there.

 

I have been running after life for a long time, but it has always managed to get away from me. I searched for life far and near, but I didn’t find a trace of it in all my adventures over all kinds of mountains and rivers.

 

Life doesn’t live where I am today, I know. I have been moving on to other places to search for it.  I’m sure there exists a place better than the one where I am today. This is where life lives. I wish I could be there now.

 

The track before me is  blocked with barbs and wires more potent than the ones that have been strewn along my path till now. They have certainly created a huge menace. They have pricked me black-and-blue till I cried out in pain. The track till now has been quite uncomfortable, and I fear that what is to come may be even more uncomfortable.

 

All the same, I badly want to move over to a new world, to a world where everything is going to tun out precisely the way I  want it to be. I want to be in a world with people I like and with people who like me. I want to be happy.  I want to be where everyone is happy, content and satisfied. This is going to include me, I am to be the happiest, the most content and most satisfied.

 

I want to live a life full of fun, frolic and happiness. The point is I don’t know where to find it, where to head to and where I am to find an ideal world I want to be in. I don’t know which point of the compass points towards it. There are no sign-posts to guide me to my destination, even google-maps can’t help me out there. The most able postman in the world is going to find it quite difficult to guide me to my destination. I find myself in a fix.

 

My agony is multiplied when I realise my feet are burdened with quite a bit of my past that deters me from moving ahead. It is like carrying a load of lead tied to my feet when I move. My body’s movements aren’t synchronised with movements of my feet.

 

I shall fall over the path before me, I fear, if I continue with the enthusiasm of moving on despite being instructed by the load on my feet not to. I often pant and wheeze with the herculean effort I put in, but the burden tied to my feet doesn’t get lighter. Rather, it gets heavier with every step I take. I wish I could shake it off myself, but I can’t do anything about it; it simply lingers on. I begin to perspire, but I have no choice but to ignore all beads of ivory flowing down my neck.

 

No amount of lead in the world can ever stop me from moving ahead. I am bent on moving on in my quest of an ideal world. The load on my feet only adds to the charm of adventure associated with moving on. It is a challenge presented before me, and I’m out to win this challenge.

 

There is a typical charm of mystery associated with the experience. It makes the experience quite an exciting one despite all the perspiration and efforts associated with it. I sometimes wish my tribulation was not as severe as they are, but second thoughts convince me that their intensity will only serve to sweeten my sense of achievement when I finally get to my destination,  but there is always a fear of failure that threatens to pull me down.

 

A fear of the unknown before me often pulls me back and deters me from making any effort. There is also a wariness that the land I am moving towards may be as bleak as my present is and my past has been. There is a spontaneous urge to give up all efforts.

 

I don’t want to move on even if the load tied to my feet were to dissolve into thin air. Even if this were to happen, there are a lot of other entities that make me pause. As long as there is a chance of a failure before me, I feel I should not move on. I should pause where I am.

 

A whiff of failure makes me wonder if the world is really going to be amenable for me when I finally get to the place I yearn to be in. I don’t think it is. Somehow, I know everything is going to be different and distinct from my idea of an ideal. In fact, I don’t think I am ever to be at the place at all. The ideal is only going to shift ahead and I am to be like someone chasing a mirage in a desert.

 

I badly wish I could reach the fabled oasis before it moves away from me. The mirage before me provides some amount of relief to my eyes pining for a change from a view of a hot, arid and dry desert hovering before my eyes for a long time. It has been such a long time that I can’t recall having seen anything better than what I have been looking at.

 

 I badly want to be in a land of eternal happiness. I want to be there before anyone else gets there. I want to be happy, and I want to be happy before anyone else can be, I want to be happier than anyone else.

 

I hope one day I get to the land of my dreams. This itself is a dream.

 

I hope I stop dreaming soon.