Justice prevailed, even if only in a dream

Last night I dreamt of harboring two women in my car who were fleeing from thugs about to throw acid on them. I then hit and ran over both the goons with my car.

Probably killed or maimed them for life.

.

.

Felt bloody good to wake up this morning.

Living in Zombie Land

 Depressed. Depressed. 

 DEPRESSED ....

My own personal words of wisdom

When you are struggling to make it from one weekend to the next, its time to quit or switch your job. 

And when you start to lose track of what day of the week it is, it is time to get one :-)

"This is what dreams are made of "

 

 A while ago I started following Jim Kwik's program to increase brain power, the one that came free with the purchase of the book “Limitless”. Why? Because I sorely need to improve my brain power. My ability to recall and recollect has become highly decrypt.

People usually envy others for their looks, riches, fortunes etc. I envy those who have strong memories.  A weak memory is by no means my only lost treasure. There are other functions of my brain not working at optimum level and this renders me incapable of doing a lot of stuff which I would love to do otherwise. For example, I love to write, but where other people have periods of inactivity or “writer’s block” in the middle of their creative streaks, I have occasional creative streaks spread sporadically in the middle of a perpetual writer’s block (especially when I am writing Urdu). The fact the I cannot remember most of the stuff only adds to the discomfort and mental agony. 

One of the techniques that Jim advocates for improving brain power is to try and remember one’s dreams. The idea behind it is that some of the most interesting  and intriguing solutions to problems have been revealed to people in their dreams.

 Agreed. 

Occasionally, when I am stuck somewhere in the middle of my writing, a connecting line or a crucial missing paragraph comes to me in my dream proving that the conscious and the subconscious minds are linked, which of course they are.

But I have another problem.

I dream a lot, sometimes several times in the same night but I usually don’t remember my dreams once I wake up.  

According to Jim, the brain has four states. Alpha, Beta, Theta and Delta 

Delta Stage:  Deep sleep phase, where we dream.

Theta Stage:  Relaxed stage above Delta, probably when we are just waking up, half asleep, half-awake stage. That is where we can recall the dreams from Delta stage.

Alpha Stage: Meditation stage, great stage to learn.

Beta Stage: Totally awake stage.

The dreams are most recollect-able in Theta stage. The more one wakes up, the more one is likely to forget what one has dreamt about. The recollection part might be different for different people but that is how it works for me.

Following Jim's advice about capturing my dreams, I got myself a diary, slept with it right next to my bed so that I could pen my dreams down as soon as I wake up but by the time I did wake up enough to be able to write anything, the dream was long gone. Then someone in the “Limitless” Facebook group suggested keeping a recording device close by (like a voice recorder on phone) and to record the dream without opening my eyes and fully waking up. (so much trouble to get hold of a fast slipping dream). 

That method was somewhat successful and I did end up capturing the essence of one whole dream in my diary. That is when I asked myself if I really wanted to record my dreams?

My dreams are mostly complex, weird and often depressing. I seldom have dreams that leave me refreshed or happy. On the plus side I know that I am dreaming. Even when I am having a particularly disturbing dream, I console myself by saying, sometimes in the middle of the dream itself, that it is only a dream and I would forget it all once I wake up.  And that is the best part about it, that I do forget it all once I wake up.

So then why would I want to recall and remember something which clearly disturbs me?

This led me to reflect upon another aspect of my personality. I have a “happy go lucky” kind of nature. I tend to suppress the negatively and troubling aspects of life by not focusing on them and not thinking about them. My daughter has a term for this. She calls it "Repression " 

I repress my negative emotions. They get inserted in some crevice of my mind. But once I fall asleep and my conscious self is taken over by my subconscious one, all those repressed emotions, frustrations and depressions that I do not let my self experience while awake, get liberated and reveal themselves to me through my dreams. This is my take on it, which could be totally and completely wrong.  Correct or incorrect that is the conclusion that I have reached after dwelling upon the matter. 

I don’t know if it is even healthy to suppress my emotions to the point that they hijack my subconscious mind r to reveal themselves, but that is how it prefer it.

So my sincere apologies to Jim Kwik.  I will not be capturing any of my dreams after I have awoken.  If that means having to forgo some creative idea or other, so be it. 

Perhaps some day in the future, I may be ready to tackle this issue in a different way, but for now, I would rather have my waking moments, if not my sleeping ones free of tension and anxiety.

Came across a picture of an acquaintance of mine posing partially submerged from within in an infinity pool. Classy shades covering eyes. Long straight hair falling gracefully down her back. She looked the epitome of poise and beauty. Even her full body swim suit looked like something straight off a designer’s rack. Had seen an equally awesome and equally cool picture of another one of my friends some years back.  Both these gals looked like supermodels out for a photo shoot then casual vacationers enjoying a day at the pool.

Reminds me of the way I look in my swimming gear.

Tight swimming cap literally plastered on to my entire scalp with my ears sticking out on either side (they always stick out, no matter how hard I try to push them under the cap). Huge bulging swimming goggles covering everything between the ridge of my nose and my forehead. Even my full body swim suit looks like a hand me down from someone’s grandmother.

The only model I resemble, so attired, is probably the front side of a Volkswagen.

Life is so not fair 👿

Mystery of the desolate lane

Just on the outskirts of "lidhar" village on Bedian road, a side lane juts out at 90 degrees and leads straight into DHA Phase VI.

The first time I took that road was when I was coming back from Bedian towards my home in Phase V.

As I turned towards the narrow road, it seemed to be all lit up with dazzling lights. Those lights belonged to the massive Pakistan Kidney and Liver Institute and Research Center located at the end of the road adjacent to Phase VI. It is fairly short distance from Bedian to Phase VI which is covered in no more than a minute or so even if the car is advancing at a not so accelerated speed. Before I even knew it, I was inside Phase VI and heading towards my home.

Next time I took that lane, I was moving in the opposite direction: going from Phase VI towards Bedian.  Somehow I ended up on a completely different road than the one I had driven on previously, even though I had followed the exact same route and directions as before.

Unlike the previous road, this particular one looked little more than a narrow lane with deep grown hedges on either side. The absence of any kind of light made it look gloomier and scarier than it probably actually was. I drove along convinced I had taken the wrong turning but drove on nonetheless as there was no U turn to go back. Barely a minute later I came upon the T junction which was non other than Bedain road itself running perpendicular to the lane. Badian, also in the absence of any kind of street light, was equally dark, but being a much busier thoroughfare, was much livelier and hence a less scary road than the one I had just traveled through.

How could this be?  

How was it possible that I had taken the same route both times and yet traveled on two completely different roads each time I had done so. Utterly perplexed I looked back just before turning on to Bedain and that is when reality dawned on me.

One way from Bedian to Phase VI, the massive and well lit structure of the Pakistan Kidney and Liver Center and Research Institute is in full view.  The brightness is so hypnotizing that one does not even notice the dark and gloomy road that one happens to be travelling on at the time.

In the opposite direction, as one travels from Phase VI to Bedian, the Institute building is in the back and with no light to distract one, the dark dreariness of the desolate road hits one with full force.

That is when I realize the importance of the keeping a clear end goal in mind. Those who have a bright and clear destination in their focus barely notice the hardships or isolated dreariness of any part of their journey. Those who have no clear and brightly lit destination to guide them will question their choice of path. Confused and unsure, they will look for U turns to retrieve their steps at multiple points of the journey.

So in a nutshell, if goals are destinations that you need to get to, then choose your goals carefully. Choose goals that beckon you with their brightness and give you the courage to keep moving forward.

In the end the important thing to remember is to not be daunted by depressing and seemingly isolated parts of the journey. Sometimes the sharpest and the most focused goals appear to one on the bleakest and darkest stretches of the road.

We must be raising them right

Back in the summer of 2016, I attended one of the sessions organised by The United States Educational Foundation in Pakistan with my daughter. One of the Foundation's task was to coach and guide promising students on not just how to apply at American Universities but to apply in a way that increased their chances of getting accepted.

For this session they had invited the parents along as well. The session was headed by a fragile and sweet looking Pakistani American (judging by her accent) called Rafia (Amazingly, I still remember her name).

After the customary meet and greet session and a few introductory speeches by the students, it was time for what all Pakistanis look forward to after attending any meeting or gathering.

Refreshments.

The self-service buffet style refreshment table was set in a corner and was laden with variety of typical Pakistani snacks including chicken patties, which is basically a savory puff pastry filled with chicken meat.

The plates as well as the plastic forks were disposable which are notoriously spineless when it comes holding their own. The second I tried to insert my plastic fork into those crackly layers of puff pastry the disposable plate beneath it bent on its side, sending the chicken patties and nachos on my plate flying into the air before landing on the carpet by my feet.

DAMN

I bent down and picked up the fallen puff pastry and bigger pieces of nachos which I placed on the table behind me. There still remained on the carpet some smaller bits of nachos and a few broken pieces of flaky puff pastry that would have to picked up later by a cleaning brush.

 “whoever threw those crisps on the carpet needs to pick them up right now “

Barely two minutes later a booming voice echoed across the room. It was not the sternness of the loud voice that startled me, but rather the fact that it came out of the mouth of the fragile and sweet looking Rafia was what astonished me more.

That “whoever” she was referring to was obviously me.

The first though that went through my head was to ask my daughter, networking on her own somewhere in the crowd, to come and pick it up for me. It wasn’t that I was embarrassed to pick up my mess but it was embarrassing to so do so after Rafia ‘s ultra-stern and ultra-loud command which had echoed across the room. The situation made me feel like a naughty 6-year-old being reprimanded by her nanny more than a forty plus woman.

But that option to ask my daughter for help was discarded almost the moment it entered my head. There is no explanation why it should have entered my head in the first place. There was no way I was going to put my child in an embarrassing and awkward position that was not her fault.

I am not that kind of a mom.

Secondly, there has never been an incident in my life, that I can recall, where I have not owned up to my mistake, or tried to cover it up, no matter how embarrassing it might be.

That is not me either.

Funny enough, the idea of not picking it up never occurred to me. I don’t know if Rafia had seen me either drop or pick up or if she just issued a general directive upon seeing the mess. It was not really important anyway. What was important was that I knew I did it.

It would have to be me.

I turned to put my plate on the table behind me to free my hands for the task but when I turned back a couple of seconds later I was momentarily frozen into immobility.

 If I had been surprised by the capability of deceptively sweet looking Rafia to issue a directive that loud and stern, I was totally dumbfounded by what I saw before me now.

There were three youngsters already squatting on the carpet clearing up my mess.

Just as I was turning to place the plate on the table earlier, I had vaguely heard a conversation between a couple of teenagers standing a few paces from me.

“Shall we?”

“Sure why not?”

Didn’t realize what they had meant till I turned back.

The overwhelming feeling of gratitude that went through me at that moment is indescribable.

“We will manage. You don’t have to do it.” One of the girls with curly hair said to me as I bent down to help them.

“No I want to”. I insisted.

Together we cleared up the space in about thirty seconds, something which might have taken me at least two minutes to do on my own.

Two whole long minutes during which I would have squatted on the floor alone clearing up while people around me would probably have continued to network. 

But between the four of us, not only was the task completed in one fourth of the time, it also was impossible to tell which one of us, if any one of us, was responsible for that mess. 

Those girls shared my embarrassment in a way that it no longer remained embarrassing.

Never have I been more indebted to a bunch of kids in my life than I was at that point.

How many of us never lift a finger to do something that requires minimal effort from us simply because it had nothing to do with us or because it is not our responsibility to do so?

How many of us do something simply because it is the right thing to do regardless of whoever’s responsibility it was to do it in the first place?

Not a whole lot.

So when someone says to me that kids today are too argumentative, too opinionated, too liberal, too assertive, I agree with them. They are all that, but they are also decent and caring with a very strong sense of what is right and what is wrong.

Whereas, it may be true that not all of them are like that. There will always be exceptions. But for most part when I see youngsters, I see a good future ahead of us.

So my request to those of us who have a decent number of years under their belt is that instead of hastily passing judgment on some action of the younger generation or on some opinions they voice that do not agree with us, let us give them a chance to show us who they truly are first.

I guarantee, quite a few of them will cause us to be pleasantly surprised.