In My Dreams.

Down by the riverside, I sat- My chin resting in my cupped hands as I stared into the waters. Others passed by after fetching water into their pots. We needed to get the household chores done as fast as possible. Some thought I was lost in my thought, others just didn’t care but actually, I was dreaming. I dream of a well. A time when my being a girl will not be a hindrance to my receiving education.A time when my voice will be heard. A time when I could roam the village streets at dark and not be scared of being assaulted because I am a girl. I also dream of how fulfilling and charming it would have been if I was the world’s best business lawyer, most renowned economist or perhaps having many non-governmental Organizations and Orphanage homes in my name. Yes! Undoubtedly, I love to dream so much that, if I should be abducted by aliens and injected with fluorosulfuric acid, one thing that stands out, one thing that I won’t change-My Dreaming Personality. In my dreams I find hope, solace. In my dreams lie power, confidence, happiness and a brighter future.  In my dreams I feel control.  In my dreams I feel important and recognized.  In my dreams, I am accepted and understood.  Dreaming gives me the ability to be whoever I want to be, the sensation of creating an image for myself and thinking about it just brings me thrills.  Happiness crowds my heart just at the thought of being anyone I could…  Lying on that tattered mat, I can stay for days just dreaming myself to sleep.  Each day, selling under the hot sun with my feet hurting, I dream of lying on that mat with a rider and horses living a life of a queen till I forget all my sufferings. 

In my dreams, I forget about how tired I am going to feel the next day selling under that scorching sun, I forget about how my family will be thrown out of that uncompleted building any moment from now, I forget about the sleepless night I would have to endure because daddy will return home drunk and disturb till morning.  My family lived in a small single room with no lights or ceiling in that uncompleted building.  We share one bed but I preferred sleeping on that mat behind the door…that was my comfort zone. 

When I dream, it doesn’t just feel like dreaming but a possession.  What is to be and that feeling of ownership makes me feel like I belong.  Sometimes, my mom hit me on the back when she sees me smiling at myself dreamily.  She just chuckles afterwards and walks away for she knows that stopping me from dreaming is like saying my existence is not important.  When I am down, pathetic to the extent of giving up, when I look back lying on my mat, I hold back my sorrows for my dreams are my refuge.