A Dream or a Nightmare?

An Interior Monologue by Akumu

(A piece of Literature)

After only an hour of sleep, I feel as though I've just been jarred from a restful sleep. A permanent nap. A slumber for life. I feel as though I've been sleeping this entire time. Everything was a long, drawn-out dream with all the elements that a nightmare typically entails, with nothing of it being genuine.

Sometimes I find myself in some other universe receiving a death sentence for some strange reason, and other times I'm just desperately running, running away from "something."

Why are my dreams never as tranquil as a body of water with no ripples? What is it, in my subconscious, that causes me eternal suffering? What is it that I can’t cure myself of, that I can’t escape myself from?

I desire to know what awaits me on the other side of life. What are those things that I’m running away from? Every sleep I take, every dream I experience, and every reality I hold to be true are all somehow connected at some point. I don’t believe in past lives and reincarnations, but I also wouldn't say I wish to fully reject the idea that they exist. I need to know my origin, the origin of my Atman (Indian term for one's spirit), my soul. I want to know about all the lives I’ve lived, all the deaths I’ve suffered, all the crimes I’ve committed, all the kindness I’ve shown, all the pathways I’ve chosen and all the decisions I’ve made that have led me till here, here at this particular juncture of time and place.

What a marvel it would be to understand one's entire existence and be able to decipher the code encoding the purpose of one's presence in this world. I believe that these dreams are the final bridges linking me to my consciousness and to myself. What an ironic situation, huh? The only difference between the dreams and the nightmares is a shift in viewpoint. These dreams, even though most of the time leave me restless enough to get me writing about them, are the only things that I still feel a connection with.

I constantly feel as though I am without something or that a part of my soul has been lost to the ways of the world. My search for that missing piece has taken me to an unfamiliar location full of unusual people, strange situations, and stranger things still. Funny how now I'm lost along with the missing component.

When I first woke from the illusion of sleep, as lost as I already was, I got into a conversation about how parents are left alone during their most vulnerable years, the dreadful old age, a stage that, despite being inevitable, is still so feared by the general public due to the feeling of utter helplessness that comes along with it.

The same clichéd situation occurs: parents grow old and want to depart for their final journey from their home country only, but their children are unable to care for them because of the ill-fate of human beings of not having enough time for as long as one is here on this Earth, the misfortune of always hustling to reach somewhere, fulfil obligations, earn, feed, to simply survive. The real issue, though, is "Whose fault is this all really?"Are the kids to blame for prioritising temporary obligations over the parents who have essentially devoted their entire lives to raising them? Or are the parents at blame for expecting too much from their active and already worn-out kids?

How meaningless life really is, don't you think? People arrive, they live (and, more often than not, suffer), and then they pass away separated from their loved ones, believing that the circumstances were a betrayal. What the affliction really is about is the blessing and curse of becoming attached to people. We are not what they refer to as God, and despite how wise we already are, we are bound to pluck the Forbidden Fruit, we are destined to make the regretful but legendary error of becoming emotionally connected, to people, things, places, timelines, and even universes.

(Part-1 of the series, "Questions of Doom")

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