Writing vain

I'll tell you about a dream I had. It's quite personal, and needles to day, it will feel like you were on psychedelics by the time you are done reading. And the trip could go bad. But before the dream, a little bit of starter as to how I think I had the dream that I had. 

My parents watch old Hindi songs at night. From where I see, there's not much of a disparity in what the songs meant back then and what they mean today. They either mean "Let's have sex", or "I miss having sex with you", or "I'm horny!! I'm horny!! I'm HORNY!!!!!!" Here's an example...

Just that today, we need Sunny Leone to fill the void caused by lack of intelligent lyricists. Now, why did I not think of that before?

Back to the dream, during the late-night song session on the idiot box, which I usually refrain to be a part of, save for yesterday of course, my sister was listening Manali trance. Amazing! I doubt she can pronounce or even spell Marijuana properly. Either way, the song was so annoying that I implored her to change the channel. Remember, I implored. I never do that on regular days. Thankfully, she changed the channel. But trouble was right around the bend. She tuned into a channel playing old songs, which at the time that we tuned into, played a song which featured an actress who looked a tad bit too much like a female I was bonkers about. Maybe, I shouldn't have said that. And maybe, I should also not have said that I get panic attacks when I see any woman who bears the remotest resemblance to this female. But I suppose I just did exactly that. I shouldn't reveal such intimate details to strangers, I suppose. Anyway, who gives bollocks to females who give you panic attacks?

So after seeing this ugly song, I freaked out, and probably lunged into my own room; probably because the intervening five seconds are a bit of a blur. I got up to fast, I guess. Back in my room, life came back to normal. I watched a movie, drifted around a digitally generated race-track in an AE-86, oftentimes ramming the car straight into street-lights. The crow booed every time I did that, making me feel like I should have rammed into the stands instead. After a little reading session, I dozed off like the world wouldn't exist tomorrow. That's when the dream started. 

I was driving quite fast around some road like the Sierra Nevada track in the game Road Rash. Remember that one? I don't remember the car I was driving. All I knew was that there were two cars ahead of me that were moving a lot slower than I wanted them to. I just wasn't sure if there was enough room to overtake them both, because it was a blind left-handed turn up ahead. But I jammed the throttle and sped past the two buffoons. In the next bit, I only remember a steep climb that I needed to endure and all of a sudden, I'm not in my car any more. The ordeal this time was on foot. Even in the dream, I was thinking about a cute female who seldom puts her own photo on whats-app. 

The aforementioned female I was bonkers about, was trouble from day one. I knew that in the head, but perverse little me never heeds advice from head-quarters. Mind you, this strategy usually works beautifully; the one of not listening to the head. Alas, not with this female.

After this little climb that was up ahead of me, little did I know that I was to run from this tyrannous woman, or at least that's how the game was planned. I don't know why it was like that. But I ran for deal little life as hard as I could. Thankfully, my attire had transformed into Flash's costume, which of course only meant one thing.. Light Speed!! And a thing about being able to run fast, or even being able to fly in a dream is this. It feels AWESOME! Yeah, I have bouts of lucid dreaming. There were two things going on in my head as I warped through space at Flash-ish speeds.

#1: Why not run back in time and just not meet the troublesome female?

#2: Why is the sound of her voice still lingering around? It's against the laws of physics isn't it? Light being much, much faster than sound, meaning, at the speeds I was running at, I should technically not be able to hear the woman's voice if she said anything. And yet, I could hear her voice looming around, telling me some indecipherable gibberish. 

Next thing I know, the Flash-costume is gone and I am standing at a door with those see-through wire-mesh nets on them. It's a dingy little house of sorts, the place I am in. I distinctly remember how a free spirit I was at the start of the dream. And now, I was a prisoner of my own imagination. And that ruddy female's face kept popping all around the place. This was around 3 in the morning. I know that for a fact because that was about the time when a colleague from work pinged me to inform of the changes I need to make on our website's home-page. Phew! What a bloody relief from an ugly dream! More so, how I want to thank this chap from work for having chosen that time in the morning to wake me up for something work related. That last line is both an honest compliment and a sarcastic remark rolled into one.

I'd also like to thank my cell-phone for surprisingly being audible last night. For had it been otherwise, I'd have been screwed. Other people I want to acknowledge include the female I used to be bonkers about, the cute female who is quite bonkers herself, my parents, teachers, friends and all those jobless people who will go through the painful task of reading this absolutely frivolous piece of literature, which shall add no value to your life whatsoever, To the last set of people mentioned, please get a life.
By the way, moral of the story is this...
If you want to sleep in peace, please don't listen to songs that have actresses in them who even remotely look like some woman who almost drove you nuts.