It's tough to refuse...

Some friends of mine asked me why I wasn't updating my blog with "my" stuff in lieu of quotes and general content. Well, the Alvibest post was "my" stuff... :-)
I wanted to stay away from my blog and focus on the journal (which is demanding a good amount of my effort), but I couldn't refuse.
So here is a quick one.

This is something I composed while talking (yesterday) to a very dear friend of mine. She accused (in a jocular manner) me of dreaming too much, and here was my response (reworded for this post)

Well, all I'd say milady
Is life is full of dreams;
Some are for me to realise,
Some stay behind closed eyes.

We laughed as soon as I was done and she shot out with her usual question "Where did you pick that up? Which movie?" and I was so bugged, exactly as she wanted it!! :-(

I love to dream and I love to include people I care for in my dreams and then share it with them. Nothing romantic (Oh! Puhlllleeeeaaaasssse) but something personal (which you could mistake for romanticism ;-). I loved creating things and possibilities. I remember telling myself stories over dinner. This habit stuck to me since I was 6 or so. I remember creating a character called Condor 2000 who had a suit which reflected bullets and a shiny armour on which any light blinded onlookers (its complicated, I'll explain later). His car was cool. It had all the gadgets you could think of. Actually the best part about that car was its adaptability; anything I wanted Condor 2000 to have was already there or was under development and final stages of testing (words I picked up from James Bond movies and Knightrider). The car was sleek, the gadgets sleeker.
In school, when I sported a wound and friends would ask me about it, each of them got a different story. It would be anything from an elephant in musth which I tripped to a high adrenaline rescue of some girl :-D
As I grew up(I assure you I have) the stories demanded credibility, nay, I think the people around me stopped believing in the possibility of an elephant tripping over my shin and landing headlong (of course, after a somersault) in an ice cream cart and the strawberry ice-cream cooling him and making him docile. I don't know what is so unbelievable about it. So my stories grew into serious prosaic ones but never ceased to roll out. They were usually extensions of my dreams. Something I would have dreamt of would find its way into a story and I would spend long hours pondering over what made me come up with that story. It was fun not being able to figure it out!!
I really don't know what I would do without my dreams and crazy scenes.
I really don't know what a lark would do without a chirp or terns without wings.
There is a lot I don't know.
Hence I dream! :-)