Dreams, unfulfilled.

I dreamed that I was in the jet plane, finding unfulfilled dreams among the stars in the night sky, or in the sun rays that shone through the rolling clouds, thousands of feet above the ground. I was once told that dreams are in abundance nowadays, simply because there are too many unrealised dreams were thrown out of the windows,  and to the streets in the city. Some were kind enough to keep them under their beds. Dream is the commencement speech given in the graduation ceremony, the occasional "what ifs" when you are talking to the black cab drivers in London, or the regretful sighs by the middle-aged woman staying next door. But, dream is also the triumphant smile on the sportsman's face, the lovely feeling in the heart when you look at one particular person's face, or the sheer determination of taking the first baby step. The daily commutes from home to work have been a tiring and discouraging routine that wears away the dream to make this world a better place. Those weary eyes in the train, casting the similar soulless gazes to the crowded standing space in the middle of the coach, waiting for their destinations to be announced through the speakers. As they walk out of the train, the beautiful dreams remain seated. The door closes, and everything repeats again in the next morning.  Maybe some day when I realise that I have stopped writing for the longest time, I know that the dream is long gone. Till then, I shall tell the people around me, that there is a distant dream, awaiting to be fulfilled.