GNSD 💤

Dreams are the only uninhibited sanctum of one’s mind where the laws of karm-o-dynamics don’t apply necessarily, and an action does not mandate a reaction.
Our thoughts, behaviors, memories, and communication are altered unknowingly by our surroundings and it manifests in our dreams.

While there are many cases where psychiatrists and psychologists make merry meddling with people’s minds, there are some dreams that absolutely make no sense whatsoever.

I come from the millennial era when social media was non-existent, yet my dreams have been distinctly weird since beginning.
My dreams should not be called nightmares for the sheer absurdity in them.

“The reels on the phone go on and on, all day long”, my 8 yr old daughter often protests sarcastically as my Instagram reel habit invades her playtime with me. 

If one is to believe in ‘You are what you eat.’, my ‘Food for thought’ would be Boiled Asparagus pudding with Tabasco sauce served on Chocolate Rice Platter.
If I have a romantic dream sequence, I am Jim Sarbh in Binte Dil from Padmavat. If I dream of a cricket match, I am Sangakkara helplessly watching Dhoni hit a winning six in the World Cup final. I feel like my dreams are R-Rated version of Alice in Wonderland.

Still, some of my dreams are weird even by my own standards.

1:

I was in 9th grade. Our math tuition teacher was raining fire on us every day with homework and his sword-like speech. The prophecy was that Smaug the dragon from The Hobbit Trilogy would be designed with him as a reference in the future. During those days, two more things were on fire—the hot April sun in Nagpur and Tendulkar in Sharjah. Tendulkar was on an opera song, with every run cheered like anything. Above all, Warne’s expressions were priceless.

Next to our tuition classes was a building under construction, and a huge heap of sand would slip onto the road, testing our bicycle tires. One day, there was a grown-up guy sitting on the heap. With the concentration of a sage, he was doing something. To our delight, he was making a sandcastle. His noodle-like hair marinated in sweat, and his short stature was still noticeable. The sand stuck to his arms, legs, and face didn’t bother him. Then one of us stopped and shouted, “Aaila! Tendlya!!” Like wildfire, a crowd gathered around him. And in such instances, my mouth works faster than my brain, so before I could realize it, I shouted, “That’s not a sand bucket you are using. It’s one of the ‘Dalda’ tumblers the construction guard uses to clean up ‘The Act’ every morning!”

2:

I was racing a car on Bronson Avenue, Ottawa, Canada, trying to keep my wife (who looked more or less like a Canadian version of Aishwarya Rai) safe. At almost the same killing speed, a car with four or five goons, fully armed, was firing at will. I took a sharp turn and hid in a complex, thinking we’d lost them. After barely catching our breath, they came right in front of us from the opposite entrance.

I ran and opened the trunk, and my wife, always so supportive of me, popped out like a jack (or jane) out of the box, handing me a machine gun. I retaliated against their onslaught. Miraculously, nobody was hurt. Out of nowhere, I saw a grenade coming my way, and I deflected it with my bullets, missing my fuel tank by centimetres. Finally, I overpowered them with sheer grit and firepower.

To my horror, I heard a fleet of police vans coming my way, only to realize I didn’t even have a driver’s license, let alone a gun license. I guess, none of the visas give you license to kill, that too on your second day in the country. I opened the trunk to check if my wife was okay. But she was gone! I looked for her everywhere and found her sitting at Tim Hortons, sipping coffee. I got mad at her and yelled, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU HATE COFFEE!”

3:

“[In Croatian]:70 minuta! Ye 70 minuta tum se khuda bhi nahi chheen sakta.” There sat a bunch of anxious yet fired-up girls preparing for their biggest game ever. Motivating them was their coach (yours truly), bucking them up. I was SRK in the Croatian remake of Chak De! Croatia! Just some time back, we had shot the McDonald’s scene at Velika Gorika Mall. The director was particularly pleased with my dialogue, “U ovoj igri nema šezdeset.” There had been many occasions where the director (also me) had said that the original actor was much better, but this one can give him a run for his money on his day.

After gruesome schedules, tireless shoots, reshoots, editing, creative differences, the team and our director had the sweet satisfaction of a pack-up. Due to financial constraints, the producer asked us to kick the puck using our feet instead of hockey sticks. Though it helped in de-stressing, our Relispray stock was replenished almost daily. The final was the most memorable. Though I was the coach, it felt like I was actually playing. The dream ended when the puck hit me in the head before I could spell out the final dialogue: “[In Croatian]:O moj bože! Ye to Seedha shot legi!”

4:

Neelayam theater, Pune it was, running packed houses to Jaani Dushman: Ek Anokhee Kahani shows. People were fighting to get tickets. I was one of the lucky ones sitting inside, waiting for the show to start, when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. “It seems, you have a good eye for technology and innovations. Could you please help me?” the guy next to me said before I turned around. To my surprise, it was the man himself – Robert Downey Jr. Apparently, he wanted to have a new armour in his Captain America shield. Such a great actor, such an iconic role!

I suggested him to add Jericho missiles within the shield which can be fired when the shield was in Frisbee mode. He thought it was a great idea, and asked me how to time the shots. It was then, I introduced him to Jhaptaal in Tabla and asked him to speed it up sporadically for pattern variations.

Cut to the scene where I am in Middle East, playing Moussa Bin Suleiman from Jack Ryan season 1. Interrogating me is Jack Ryan himself, played by Robert Downey Jr. Situation was very tense, when the door suddenly burst open, and my half asleep daughter barged in saying “ Daddy! The toilet flush has stopped working again!” and before I could react, Bob said “ This is not over yet! You better have your answers ready once I come back from fixing the toilet!”

Blame it on the mind, the brain, the food, or the “miscellaneous habits,” but the dreams are no less than epic sagas like LOTR or GOT. My mind doesn’t need booze—it’s already messed up enough to concoct its own mirages. So for me, it’s Gory Nights, Scary Dreams. As for responses, I know most people would say TLDR 😉