It was a dreamy dusk... when the vermillion gave way to the dark purple of the skies behind the lush green mountains. As the purple haze reflected in the clear river, our Jack slouched at the river bank with a nebulae of flies above his head; against his fishing paraphernalia -forgetting his little strife with the Tenth Commandment (THE 10th COMMANDMENT-(coveting)Exodus 20:17 "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that [is] thy neighbour's."), for the evening;) .Sang a boy, strolling down the valley, molesting his guitar, "Its a long long walk to dreamlands. Held and bound and tied and cast, to this painfully sadistic craft." As i looked at him intently, said his guitar to me, "This way, he strums and drums and humps all his problems far far away ;-) ".
In the old tavern, the greying bricks lined with dark soot sat the heavy drunkard at his usual seat beside the fire place. The bard's singing tickled his ears and he raised his glass to inquire of the brewer ,then caressing his notes (currencies) with care utmost, "Do dreams come true?", with an obvious sarcasm in his voice and face. Hearing this,the young lady dressed in lilac smiled. She was still in her early stage of romance. Had not seen the world fully through but posed to believe, "Dreams come true; without that possibility, nature would not incite us to have them".The drunkard seemed unwittingly unconconvinced. The brewer came to his rescue, lest the bastard left unfilled for the day (unfilling his pocket too), "Unfortunately, the balance of nature decrees that a superabundance of dreams is paid for by a growing potential for nightmares." Silence barged in the brewery again.
The words of our bard echoed in reassuringly with his flat pick and downstrokes on the guitar,"But they'll be back, give it a day. As time goes by and words let sigh, the dreams are still dreams and, the days are as ever, long. We take our place in the rat race all for its sake. It draws and it claws and it calls, us down, us back;-)".
It was then that the postman arrived with a tinkle on his cycle's bell, "Mail for you" , said he to the dreamer.Half amused and half surprised, the dreamer tore open the letter that said a relative bequeathed 6000 pounds for a flying lesson, he aspired. He leaped and skipped and whirled around the tables and people in the tavern.Then climbed the nearest cliff to finally get the feel of "Learning to fly". Felt I heard some distant murmurs, "The dreamer's loose on the head, it seems."
As he spread his arms,standing at the edge of the cliff to summon the winds for his wings, he could feel a force pushing him against the gravity and then whoooshh.....h! he was gone;-)
