to the girl who wanted me to write about dreams two years ago. i felt i would be unjust to your wish at that time. now, i don't remember your name anymore. i wish i did because this is for you and me.
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dreams? i don't know much about them but i know once i stop chasing them, i might be able to have the things i have always wanted as an eight-year old; like: being around a mosque during eid, buying every color of glass bangles even though some might break on the way back home; going to every house and talking to everyone like they know how much they mean to me and how them offering the sheer korma is my favourite memory; having a bubble bottle and not losing it while i fall asleep in the rickshaw.
i know dreams in different colors and not a monday night wondering if i could get to sleep tonight.
as a kid when i was asked what i wanted to be, i knew i wanted to touch the skies. what i didn't know was, i didn't have to be a doctor for it.
