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Of randomly-accessed-memories

Utkarsha Kohli

Dream is…when it screams.

Eyes shut, but brain runs.
Brain runs, but heart stops.
Heart stops, but soul lives.
Soul lives, but another life.
Another life, but in dreams.

Another life,
In dreams, of reality.
In dreams, of alternate reality.
In dreams, of alter ego.
And of randomly-accessed-memories.

From actual dreams to surreal happenings.
From a god figure at the house gate to seeing mom teary-eyed at the airport.
From running without shoes to walking with prized possessions.
From falling in black space to waking up to forehead kisses.
From being chased to living the ambitions.
From driving a car on water to taking hot showers.
From being naked in public to sporting couture in bedroom.

Another life,
In reality, made of dreams.
In reality, made of desires and wishes.
In reality, made of different timezones.
And of pseudorandom lucky incidents.

In dreams, of another life.
Another life, of dead soul.
Dead soul, of a beating heart.
Beating heart, of a subconscious brain.
Subconscious brain, of a sleep so deep…

A sleep so deep…is when a dream screams.


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