Weaving Dreams

You asked me, ‘What do you do?’ You laughed when I said, ‘I am a dream-weaver. I weave beautiful dreams.’  You thought it was a nice joke, and you gave me a big ‘thumbs up'(!). You made me smile. But, weaving beautiful dreams is the only real thing I do, spinning dreams and more dreams with the passing of the years.

My dreams are small, but they are happy ones. And, I believe in them. They are beautiful and are made of special things. They ferry me across the river to the golden labyrinths of the evergreen realm where the weather is always so fine; where you and I can go time wasting, laughing, loving and smiling all the way…

The hallowed realm – where we can run free through the fields of yellows and dandelions, walk tall among swaying cool grasses, violets and prim roses; pluck wild rhododendrons and make posies, and watch the wind moves in golden paddy fields and listen to the sound of silence…

The quiet places – of vast rolling meadows, where we can go wheeling easy, climb green hills and blue mountains so high and hear the lions roar, trod among fallen mellow leaves and trample brown twigs, feel the cool fern and green moss beneath our feet, and bleed our hands rough in search of hickories, acorns and walnuts and our lips blue and red with the colour of the blue and red berries…

The mystical evergreen realm up where we belong – where we can breathe in the chilling, crispy fresh air and drown ourselves in the intoxicating scent of the forest, soak up the sun rays playing rainbow colours and streaming life through the green branches in the forest on a midsummer afternoon, wade through the rushing streams and bathe in the secret pool to the music of chirping birds and gushing waterfalls, and drench ourselves with the cool wisdom of the deep…

And when the day is done, we find quiet and rest in an old log-wood cabin in the forest, where the river winds down below. There are blossoming trees and lush green grass beneath. The garden sprouts sweet peas and the white daisies are growing wild. The front porch is wide and spots climbers.  Here you can sit and watch thousand sunsets and sun rise. You can feel the cool breeze blowing old memories. And, hear the mountain music play in the wind…

Listen, it’s raining! Come, there’s a fire burning inside… my dreams are shimmering bright!


6 thoughts on “Weaving Dreams

  1. Achai Sanna, I wanna go too, to this place and listen to the sound of silence and hear the mountain music as I feel the cool breeze…. You transported me to a dreamland which is so beautiful, words cant express.

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