Better be dreams

I hit the throttle of my Yamaha RD 350 and she blazed ahead of everyone. She was churning out such an immense power that my rear view mirror lost its meaning. And my mind was racing and numb, both at the same time. Nowhere out of the blue there appeared a cow dead straight, bang in the middle of the road. It was too late. I turned right and hit the tree.


I woke up with both my hands on my chest. It was the worst dream I ever had. Now a person with little knowledge about bikes would be shocked when I said I crashed my Yamaha RD 350. Because he knows the value of that bike. And by then he must have also thought of the pain I would go through to find the rarely available spare parts of this yesteryear beast.


But then that was just a dream. Yeah! That’s what I want to bring to the fore. Dreams. Sometimes sweet, sometimes nightmares. Sometimes you reckon, they better be dreams, because if they happen in real life they hurt a lot. You can’t imagine loosing something so precious for whom you’ve been waiting for eternity and suddenly hell brakes loose on to you when you see that dream shattered. You see the pain that you had put in to nourish that dream goes down the drains and you could possibly do nothing to save it.


And what if you realise no efforts can bring it back to you. I don’t know how people react in such situations, but with me, you’ll find a grin on my face. No, I don’t go mad, I just laugh at myself. I laugh at the energy I utilised to fulfil that dream and then see it shatter like a mirror in front of my eyes.


By the way, talking about the bike, I see it rusting in my garage and every time I see it, trust me, it pains because I know I can’t do anything about it.