20/05/2024
Caption: An inert brain’s gibberish twaddling.
It is a symbolic photo of a dreamcathcer’s dream. Odd? If you are sitting without any task at hand, you might read the explanation below. It’s somewhat irrelevant and just a form of escape from the monotony of a sick body, maybe it’s more than that.
“I have a dream,” Nelson Mandela said. But I, a common man, have a lot of dreams. Many were shattered. Many were broken down by me into parts and then thrown into the mighty Padma’s waters. In Summer, In winter and in the gruesome silt-loaded Rainy days. Many were flattened by the cars rolling in the streets of Dhaka and some in the pavements of Kishoreganj. I have killed so many dreams of mine but still there are a lot of dreams I dream about. The dreamer in me is not satisfied. I know for a fact that it is also not going to be satisfied, ever. So, should I stop dreaming?
Because I want to be satisfied. At the same time, I also don’t want to stop growing. Growth is my intent. If I stop dreaming, growth will stop.
My dream is that I be the wind in this world full of air. Because the air may be as abundant and essential as it can be, nobody can see it or feel it without the wind. The wind is the energy, the soul of the air. As wind moves the air, we can hear the whisper of air. Sometimes the wind can make the air so fast that we hear the screaming of the air. Sometimes, the wind is so strong that the air turns into a storm, a tornado. I want to be that wind. Destructive, but gentle.
But this is just a dream! Hence I am! A thinking fool!I am a mere piece in the matrix. Are matrices real? I don’t know. But I want to be a perfect square of the grid of the matrix. So that I can be universal and a piece that fits in of all the matrices, if there are multiples; I believe that there are. SO I want to be a piece of the universal matrix. In a Venn diagram, I want to become the common point of all the sets and subsets. I want to be the center. In my head’s internal utopia, I am that. But I want to explore, yet remain the same. I know it’s funny, folly even. But I want to be the wind that does not move, but drives. This matrix, the matrices, I want to navigate and live, growing.
At this point, with a slight fever and an ellergic cold, I don’t know what I am writing. This photo, this imperfect yet perfect square frame, was never meant to be shared with such a caption. But here it is!
Hence the caption, “An inert brain’s gibberish twaddling.” Lovely, sick, stressed and ironic.
