Devils Whisper Dreams
I was away, walking a long road, listening to all of them debating about that fact, whispering, shouting, pulling each other's hair, biting each other's butts, and barking at each other.
"Dream big and fly, and be ready to die in order to have your dreams coming true".
I was hearing those clichés repeatedly, but I still insisted to wear that chunky wondering face…
What's the use of their dreams coming true if they were dead? I don't think cows ever wished to be burgers.
What if someone wanted to stick to the floor of reality and stop dreaming big for a while, maybe because they tried dreaming big and those dreams broke into dust and someone came and vacuumed?
Why should they have wings to fly and harvest dreams? Why don't they take the elevator? Even if it's out of service… stairs are always safer, more fun, and even easier to climb.
What if someone dreamt ageless and out of body, because physical dreams mean nothing no more?
Devil was not taking any breaks, he kept roaming around, whispering to those pale-faced people, stealing their souls in return of promises , crimson dreams and hellish glare, and then rolling every single soul in a cigarette so he can smoke it later with the guys at "Al-Nawfara".
What a fine pack, dreams of love, of fortune, of heaven, of influence, of power.
Devil came to me smiling cunningly, and started whispering, and when he was finished, I gave him a grin instead of a pale face, and started whispering to him, as his face was getting more red but strangely a pale kind of red, his horns getting smaller, his jaw was dropped, his eyes were wide open with veins sticking out of them.
Devil turned to address me "Holy God… Dude… Have you no fear?", as I stood there chuckling "ha ha ha, in your face bastard", so he took out a magnum gun and shot himself right in the throat, as I took his cigarettes and walked away grinning.
I walked away carrying tons of ideas and dreams similar to that one that freaked the freaky devil to death.
| I walked along humming some words to remind myself… "The most poor among men is not that who has not even a cent, the poorest man is who has not a single dream…The most pitiful among men is he who turns his dreams into silver and gold" |  |
Posted by GraY FoX at 11:52 PM
7 Comments
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
William Shakespeare
I think you should gather those posts in a book or something...that will be a good idea.
Ramadan kareem :)
Ohh boy .. And who else to whisper in the ear of the Devil and make him go steadily pale but you Iyad ?? after all, you are the one yally naza3na ;)
Kidding dear .. but not about the whisper :P .. and I will tell you this .. I will not let anyone vaccum my dreams .. let alone let them turn to ashes in the first place .. I\'m still stubborn !!
Hello All
Abu Fares
No more words to be added upon Shakespeare's words
Gardenia
:D you made me laugh like hell
I highly appreciate your opinion dear , though i don't deserve it :)
Cute NK2
hahhaha , yeh ana bo2ret el fasad bel shelleh :D, ya setty, live your humanity and live it long and happily and i'll do the same :)
“Then indecision brings its own delays,
And days are lost lamenting o'er lost days.
Are you in earnest? Seize this very minute;
What you can do, or dream you can, begin it;
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.” Goethe says,,
and i say: "when we cease dreaming , life becomes rusty, poor and dead...."
Keep dreaming Foxie, and thanks for having me dreaming after my summer exile..
I dream , and i dream big Lighthouse
it's just that there's no place to keep those dreams safe :)
People should read this.
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