I dozed off in the afternoon,
tired from the unaccustomed labor
of the day. When I woke up,
I found myself giggling
upon recalling the dream.
I shared it with my dad.
And he shared his.
How weird is it: living under
the same roof, eating the same
meal, our dreams differ so much.
Mine mostly comprises of cartoons,
gadgets, books, plays, and his
begins with a task and then, comes
challenges, and difficulties, which
however ends with him getting
entangled in one of those.
It reminds me of one of the stories
we studied in class 12: Should Wizard
HIt Mommy? It depicts how elders are
trapped in a cage, whether they talk about
it or not, very often.
Stay with
Prerna ЁЯЩВ
