This is a notion almost all of us have felt after reading fictional books, or watching fictional movies. We tend to wish we were in their place. We tend to wish that we were born in a different reality where we were the sun in our solar system. Where everything rotated around us. Where we were the heroes and where we saved the world. And where then world knew our name.
We don’t want to be normal. We want to have superpowers and be wizards and go on adventures. And while we envy fiction, our lives fly pass, without us noticing. We try to hard to not be normal. We try too hard to stand out. Alas, the universe is never in our favor. Alas, we remain normal.
Will we realize that being normal is a privilege? Being normal is a relief before life becomes real. Before all your tries to be abnormal are noticed and scoffed upon. To be normal is too be free and not bound. To have an ambition and to pursue it. Heroes, however, have to fulfill their destiny. If they fail in doing so, then everyone dies. They cannot drop out and they can’t afford mistakes. And sometimes if not always, they too, wish to be normal. They wish to be able to do what they please without a million eyes on their backs – watching them. They wish to be like us. To be normal.
There is nothing wrong in being normal. There is no shame, nothing to be shy of. There is pride.
This is a story about a boy who is in a serious condition. However, he decides to live the days the doctors say might be his last – dreaming. He dreams of everything that could’ve happened, of everything he could’ve done, of an alternate ending. Surprisingly, he gets his alternate ending – though not in the way expected.
DREAMING ALL LIFE
Hospitals are boring. Sure, everyone is kind and polite, but I do miss home. The least I can do sitting is read or write or watch television. But what I would do is think. And I would dream. So, my so-said last dreams are journaled below.
I closed my eyes, and I began to see. I was getting up and suddenly streamers and balloons blinded me. It was my birthday and my sister Jean was giving me something. A big box with a tag that said: Happy Birthday Jackson! This is our gift to you. We hope you like him. Loads of love!
I opened it and he jumped out. He was the handsomest dog I’d ever seen. He was Coco. And I knew somehow that he was going to be my best friend.
Coco’s dark coat gleamed as I stroked it lovingly. He licked my face and wagged his tail. I could’ve sworn I saw him smile. My story escalated to the evening when I cut my cake. My whole family and all my friends had gathered. I had noticed the lavishly wrapped presents and the laughter and the smiles. It was as if everyone believed that life had a happy ending. I was swirling deep into my thoughts till Coco nudged me and I blew out the candles.
Suddenly, I could hear everyone clapping and wishing me. Before that moment of happiness could fade, I wished for an alternate ending. An ending without hospitals and worries and tense times. As much I knew it wouldn’t help, at least I could be the master of my dreams.
Mum told me to open the presents while all my friends were there, so I did. Peter got me a trilogy of books which I had wanted to read since a long time. And he wasn’t the only one who had given me books. Quite a few of my gifts were fictional books. Surprisingly, despite the fact I was fourteen, I received a fairy tale from my uncle. I would ask him why later. I also received a pair of headphones, clothes, and a new backpack. Which left Emma – one of my best friends. Emma gave me a handwritten copy of her first story book. I felt special as I tore open the wrapping. I touched and caressed the book. I smiled.
So this was what it was to feel joy. My conscious self had almost forgotten that, for my hospital room had lacked it.
After everyone left, I hugged my family and thanked them for everything. Jean went to sleep, and my parents were going too. I was on my way to my bedroom, before my uncle pulled me aside. He had seen the confusion on my face as I had opened his gift. He proceeded to explain.
Fairy tales, according to him, were always happy. Our lives, too were fairy tales – but he thought I wouldn’t understand. He was right. However, if one believed, then the battle was won. If one believed in alternate endings, then maybe… life could work its magic.
As much as I knew that believing would be hopeless, my conscience urged me to believe. And so I did. I hugged Coco and told him about how I was still swimming in confusion. Was I dreaming, or was it real? For I knew that my life could not be so happy and so perfect. But, while it lasted, I might as well enjoy. For miracles did occur.
I was skateboarding down the streets to school, with not a worry on my mind. Coco ran before me. I tried to catch up with him, but in vain. He was pretty quick. Just then, I happened to look at the sky and I saw grey clouds. Probably why he was running so fast, to escape the rain and winds. Surely enough, it started to drizzle. Instead of going faster, I let the rain fall. I laughed as I tried to catch the drops as they fell. Coco looked at me questioningly, I shrugged, so he opened his mouth to catch the rain. I felt that my overwhelming joy could have flooded the streets, and even the whole world. So this was delight.
I was at school on the night of the annual dance. The room darkened and the disco lights filled the hall. Pop music ruled the room. I found my friends dancing with all the energy they had. Once again, my conscience embraced the idea with open arms. Dancing was one of my favourite ways to pass time. I had certainly missed dance.
I joined them dancing. We danced through loads of songs. It was almost midnight and the music was slowing down to a slow waltz. I found Emma and we danced. While I was dancing, it dawned on me that it might be my last dance. I wanted it to be the best one ever. And it was. They called this love, didn’t they?
I found myself reading Emma’s book. It was about a boy and a girl. Most stories were, but this one was different. In her story, she wrote about the boy playing with the girl and stealing her heart. During their dance at school, the girl realizes that it might be the boy’s last. She just felt it. So she stole his heart, wanting to have a part of him to hold onto. It is his last dance, however, he comes back – according to the girl. He comes back in her dreams. In everyone’s dreams. To give them joy. The story ended there.
My consciousness wrote down a letter about how I would be there. In their dreams. I would have my happy ending. I hugged Coco and bid him goodbye. I woke up in reality. Everyone was around me – smiling. Emma was holding her book. My uncle was holding his fairy tale. It was real. My parents were holding me – in their hearts. I told them I would be there. I saw them nod. So this was what it was to love and be loved. I smiled and nodded off to eternal sleep.
I found myself in a world of dreams. I weaved in and out of all of them. I stayed with my family and friends. I found Coco. I realized that life did have happy endings. And I had got mine.
This is a poem about how I would like to escape this world which is evolving to become a world full of noise. There are fights, disagreements, pollution, accidents, this list can go on forever – however, these incidents cannot. There must be a way to turn this world around, to change its path. Even though all journeys end the same way, and even though this world is going to end, we can make the journey memorable.
TO ESCAPE
Can I escape the everlasting noise The revolving world around me The shouts, the screams, the gunshots, Everything seems to engulf me.
I struggle to let myself free From those ropes binding me down If I can’t get up, I’ll dream of Me getting up from the ground.
And I want to stay there In my fantasy world Where all my dreams come true Where the future’s been unfurled.
The world has escaped from its eternal curse No fumes invade our birthplace No flowers bear wrinkles of time No flames tire of the furnace.
But if I must go, I must go quick Or it’ll all fade away To get this, I’ll have to play make-believe Though there is another way.
This is a poem about how I look up at the stars, and how I see millions of twinkling sparks of light. The sky seems to move and revolve around me. It is mesmerizing. I feel my self being lift up by the stars. All my anger, tiredness, confusion seemed to drift off to a place unknown. But the hope – the hope stays.
SKY OF DREAMS
Each star twinkles and twinkles I see them wink at me Before I sigh for It was not a game
I could have sworn I Heard the moon singing A lullaby – But I couldn’t ever sleep
The sky kept me awake I saw her lulling around I wanted to believe for Ballroom dancing wouldn’t be enough
Stars swooped down To greet me I was swept up To meet them
I touched one shining I felt myself do that For sorrow did not exist It was swallowed by the stars
Joy, though, came in plenty More than I imagined Love, care, beauty, Morphed into the stars
Hope, it outshone all It showed me the way It showed me a beacon Of light that never faded
As soon as it started It was all over Nothing would last they said, They were wrong Hope lasted.
This is a poem about two dead souls that are a couple. They walk down a street carnival, passing through humans, invisible. They take a few turns, seeming familiar with the roads; pointing out remembered landmarks. Till they reach their daughter’s home – where their grand kids are being tucked into bed. The woman looks up at the sky and spots a shooting star, and she makes a wish.
I WISHED UPON A STAR
A long gone couple walked down the street The carnival street They heard the upbeat music Saw the streamers flying in the air Felt the happiness that was lingering But they let that happiness pass Like how they did – invisibly Not heeded by anyone They were the ghosts of the past To be forgotten.
They never forgot – though They remembered their daughter Who was a beauty And who had found a man for herself After which tragedy struck Which they tried to forget The pain ebbed The memories didn’t.
Nevertheless, they made their way To their daughter’s home Like how they always did every day Clutching hands, they walked down the roads Pointing out the places where they’d been Where they’d shared joy.
The home was at the end of the street They glided in And up to their grandchildren’s rooms To see them get tucked into bed The daughter was reading to them Then she tucked them into bed And she kissed them tenderly Then she left the room Unaware.
They watched the kids Crying tears wishing they were there Before leaving, they went out to the roof The night was clear The man consoled his wife – Who spotted a shooting star She told him and she wished aloud To share joy.
The man hugged her and whispered “You are with me And you are the joy that keeps me going.”
They smiled Gliding back to the street carnival Which was booming He took her hand Their eyes met It didn’t matter that they were dead, As long as they were together Joy could be found.
This is story about a woman who truly connected with nature. She could listen to the trees’ whispers at night. She could hear the grass moaning as it was mowed. She could see the flowers smiling at her everyday. She could feel nature, and could tell when she was content, or upset. Her name was Heather.
When she was a child, she would play outside in the grass. She would hug the trees and sleep on the grass. She would talk to them, and they spoke to her. At first, she was astonished. But she let her fascination get the better of her.
She would gather those younger than her and amaze them with the tales of the trees. They loved the stories so much that they begged her for more. Their parents scorned upon Heather, for they believed that trees could not talk. However, they had to play along for the sake of their children. Heather’s parents believed her, though they didn’t encourage her. They let her do what she liked in the meadows as long as she did her lessons, and helped them in the house.
At night, Heather would climb out onto the roof. She would gaze at the stars. She recognized all of them. Sometimes, she would weave her own constellations, and come up with myths to support them. If she was too tired, she would doze off there. Somehow, she always got up before dawn. Nature called her. She would watch the last stars twinkle out. And stand – captivated each morning, as the sun rose. She was the one who caught the first rays of the sun, as it bent down to kiss her.
When it rained, instead of closing the windows, she would open hers. She would run out into the meadows and dance in the rain. Her merry laughs echoed around. She would sing for the trees, for she loved it when they smiled at her. She would call out to the clouds and thank them. She spread happiness. She spread nature.
Heather grew up like that. She never got bored of her meadow. It was her dream to meet nature fully. She wanted to go to the vibrant places the traders spoke of. She wanted to sail across the waters the sailors spoke of. She wanted to walk through the vast jungles and forests that lay way past her small town. She wanted to feel the snow that the elders were scared of. They claimed it made their noses red, and made them sneeze all day long. Still, she yearned to feel it. She yearned to live within nature.
With that dream, she set off. She drank from the cool streams. And she devoured the sweet fruits the forest offered her. As she bit into a berry, she let it linger in her mouth. The juice dribbled down her chin. She learnt of the animals. Soon, she was speaking to monkeys and robins and even butterflies. She felt true happiness.
She sailed across oceans. Smiling at dolphins, caressing fish, touching corals, collecting seashells. She swam to the seabed. Some say she met mermaids and befriended them. Some say she colored the corals. Some say she rode sharks. I say she did everything.
She wandered through a jungle where she met lions and tigers. She spoke and held their cubs. In most cases, the lioness would’ve bared her teeth, but Heather wasn’t most cases. The lioness rubbed herself against her. She met all the animals, and even saw them migrating across vast barren areas. And she saw them survive. Miraculously, she did too.
She traveled North too. She hugged the pine trees there, and spoke to them. She felt the snow. It was so very cold, she found it burning. She slept under the stars. Once, she saw some lights in the sky at night. They came of every color. She watched, fascinated, as those lights danced across the sky, as if performing ballet. The lights jumped and twirled and spun in front of her. She smiled. And she saw them smiling too.
She was ageing – she realized. Time was flying by so quickly. She wanted to go to the desert. She knew that there were just dunes there, yet she wanted to go there. And so she did.
The first night in the desert was just beautiful. She saw the stars as they splattered across the sky. As she was slipping into sleep, she wondered. She wondered if she was nature’s friend. She heard a voice, that said that whether or not she was nature’s friend, nature would be with her forever. She recalled her journey. She recalled the happiness she’d felt. The smiles she’s spread. The smiles she’d got. The nature.
Somehow, she knew that she would not be able to survive in the desert much longer. Still, she felt immense joy. She felt tears roll down her face. Tears of happiness. Tears that were the smiles she’d smiled, the laughs she’d laughed. She opened her eyes for the last time to feast on the stars before she joined them. She smiled one last time. One last time.
She closed her eyes – never to get up again. Nature cried tears of despair. Her tears fell down. Heather vanished. In her memory, nature planted a flower for her. That plant survived. Along with it, Heather too, survived.
In many of our lives, though we are on earth, we live lives in many other worlds – which are imaginary. We create these worlds similar to the multiple universes created in books, movies, television serials, games, shows, and much more. We often retire to those worlds and imagine ourselves living lives there and experiencing experiences we’d never experienced.
As we grow older, some of us struggle keeping those worlds alive. We claim that we have too many other worlds now revolving around us. And that we, too, revolve around many other worlds. These worlds lack the fun and laughter and surprise that was felt in our created worlds. However, instead of bringing those worlds back, we try to abandon them.
There are many things in life we cannot abandon. Our imaginary worlds is one of them. There is a small part of ourselves that knows this. But its voice is drowned by your constant attempts to abandon worlds.
Times come, when we see the younger generation thrive and enjoy amidst their created worlds. They run around pretending they are the bravest warriors fighting on Ragnarok. They pretend to be the doctor and nurse a child back to health. They pretend to be the police, as they sprint off to arrest the thieves and save the day. They joust with sticks, pretending to be Percy Jackson, as he sparred against the evil in his worlds. They giggle as they pull off a prank on Hermione with Ron. They imagine themselves singing at their international concert, and bringing the house down. They see themselves holding up Thor’s hammer and defeating the villains. They see themselves accomplishing the impossible.
We want to abandon these worlds for we feel that we’ve understood the world. We think that the impossible cannot be achieved, and that one would be mad to think so.
However, imagination cannot hurt. Instead, it makes us believe. And with that in our minds, we must embrace those worlds. Those worlds where we crept off to be consoled, to have fun, to battle monsters, to have our own happily ever afters. We grew up with these worlds. We can’t just let go of all those stories. Of all those stories we weaved. Of the impossible.
Milomi's world 