The Unmapped Dreamland

Lying under the cold stiff cover, eyes shut and uniformed of the conscious. Every little memory , experience and scene that spring up piles up in this intricate land of our dreams. A meticulous soul could hardly resist the glory of pondering upon this beautiful phenomena called dreams.

At the hour of darkness as we cuddle up with our beds leaving behind a day full of ranging emotions and experiences and with a sense of ease we drown ourselves into the abyss of a wonderland where things are designed with bizarre yet intriguing scenarios.

With absolutely no control on the clipping that plays in side our head, we let it flow ,whether wanted or unwanted , it presents what it ought it to present. From the distressful run to save ourselves from a wild animal chase to the to the merry chariot ride over the clouds, our dreamland has it all. Its astonishing how a regular mundane dream escalates to a daintily surreal scene.

Nothing impossible that exists in there, everything transits you to a different world, where you do things you never have, such is the greatness of dreaming. We rather take them for granted instead of valuing the priceless moments they give us.

While some may not really be a delight but the others bring along this magic capable of achieving our euphoria. A prequel or the closest unremarkable resemblance to death if one must say it is, where not a single soul you remember, a place in which you are clueless, to sum it up - a transitory state.

Time and again we wish to get lost in our delusional world, we seek the impossible and that feeds the desire of dreaming.

A dream is that mirage we want to believe in forever, an illusion for which we often fall. the lines: “every night I lie in bed the brightest colours fill my head” from a song called a million dreams just fit the present situation very well.

But in the end, nothing is forever and the same applies to dreams, you wake up to live that same reality again and so are those dreams submerged under the weight of our conscious, some forgotten like they were blown away with the wind and some make their way to our hearts.

--Sanya Wadhwa/Moradabad