A dream deferred...

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up 

like a raisin in the sun? 

Or fester like a sore-- 

And then run? 

Does it stink like rotten meat? 

Or crust and sugar over-- 

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags 

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

-Langston Hughes

Do you dream? Do you hold them close to your heart? Are your dreams the paint brushes that colour your life? Do you believe in them? Do you still?

I don't.

For me, dreams are like stars. When you are a child, you look up at them and smile. Their twinkle creates a mirror image in your eyes. You wish to touch them so that some of their shimmer might stick to your fingers and then you can brush your face gently and glitter like a star itself. But once you grow up, the truth is slapped onto you. The stars are nothing but huge spheres of very hot, glowing gases. First of all, you cannot touch them and even if you somehow do, you will burn yourself.

There is something else common between them as well. Their death. When stars die, they explode into trillions of pieces and go flying haywire in the space, hit whatever comes in their path, destroy (or damage) others; or just get lost in the eternal vastness of the universe. When dreams die, they too shatter into billion little sharp pieces. But they don't fly away, they stay put- in your eyes, and prick them, and sting them for as long as they can. They are like tiny pieces of glass stuck in your eyes. Each time you blink, they make it hurt.

Stars are just a hoax. Their shine, their twinkle lasts only as long as you are gazillions of miles away from them. They are nothing but giant burning balls, oblivious and orbit-less. They are a sham. And so are dreams.