When you say ‘dream’, it imparts a
strange notion in me. I think it’s what the souls do when they feel they are
special. People dream only when they think of themselves to be distinctive.
Everything beyond this range of
consistency is superficial. Strange
dreams.
Of course they are strange. Some
leave you before the outset, some take pleasure in fleeing right exactly in the
middle. But if there is one, if, which won’t abandon you, I would call it ‘the dream’
– true dream. And the essence is simple: first you make it yours then it guards
the patronage.
I have always believed in
rationality. Still sometimes people say the skill to categorize delusive and
reasonable thinking in me is somewhat below that of a pragmatic man. I stand
bewildered. More of it, the whole world is dealing with practicalities except
me.
My head’s in pain.
People dream because they are
special, if you know what I mean.
Nothing is reserved in this world,
let alone some moments which make you elegantly happy. A certain visions are
worth looking for. Proceeding towards the light makes us only more sure. I see no harm. So, if its irrational to weigh
dreams in terms of a journey, no matter how long and how arduous, I am comfortable
being doubted.
Sometimes it’s far, far away from
just reaching to the summit, rather failing doing so is rejoicing too.
What to a dream is not certainly about
the consequences, but may be living it. And times when you are denied a dream,
its utter stupid to just grieve in the wake of a loss; cherish it for you
dreamt when you felt special.
For the tolling bells, it’s all a
close knitted entanglement which may never let you fall if you keep your stand.
Irrationality is when you yourself cut out.
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