Sometime back, when I slept in peace, I had a dream. It was a beautiful colourful dream, full of poignant memories, bursting with love and happiness. It was so beautiful, I wanted to keep it.
So I hung it up.
Everyday, I looked at it. Looked it in the eye and admired it. And as my eyes would graze lovingly at it, I waited for the day it would come true.
When things looked bleak, that dream would wink at me and say, “Hey! I stand here, before you. For you. I am something to look forward too. This day shall pass, and our day will arrive. I will make you smile, and I will make your heart leap”
For days I waited, sometimes with bated breath, sometimes with a wry smile. The one thing I knew was the dream waited for me, was with me and would never disappear. It was mine. To have and to hold and time would make it a reality.
One day, after a troubled sleepless night, I woke up. The dream was gone. It was stolen. Taken away, by the very person who had gifted it. Brazenly, and without a backword glance; leaving me heart broken and on the floor.
Now I wonder, which was the dream. The dream I hung up, or the dream which was stolen??