My great-grandfather says this: everyone kept paying me
visits to thank and appreciate me for saving the royal heir with my magical
craft. In fact, I only owe them my thanks for giving me an opportunity to
sharpen my book knowledge that was lying unused for long and give it a fresh
appeal. When I think about my hard-learnt, wonderful art that could penetrate into
one’s sleep to see their dreams had been used to save the royal heir from
meeting her end, I am really proud of having realised the fullest use of it. I
take this opportunity to extend my regards to the king’s wife, who set aside
all the hatred and disbelief that everyone had for my words by having immense
faith in my craft and giving me full freedom to use it. Now, I start telling
the story as she ordered me to do so:
The eccentric disease with which the king’s daughter got infected was not only the resultant effect of mischievous bad
dreams. The medical scriptures say that the bad dreams can only threaten one’s
healthy mind and body but can’t destroy it. Those bad dreams can only take
advantage of the weakness of those bodies and minds affected by the
misalignment of actuality and dominate them. The king’s daughter was affected
simultaneously by a bad dream (How could we say it was a bad dream?) and a
weird manifestation of reality that got unimaginably aligned with those dreams.
The reason behind its eccentricity was that the manifestation of reality she
had experienced outside was, in fact, the dreams of another living being. It
was just accidental that I found it out. I must thank God for that. If I hadn’t
found that, I couldn’t have cured the king’s daughter with the defective
knowledge in my craft, which was still limping to reach its fullest ability to
penetrate the dreams. Indeed, it is wrong to address the disease which had
affected her a disease. It was a subtle indication of the future. I was unable
to decode its signals. It may be associated with the destiny of the royal
family. I sincerely believe that no one would be able to decode it. I don’t
want to speak about it anymore. Let us talk about what had happened. (This was
how , out of love for the people and the king, my great-grandfather didn’t tell
anyone about his and his country’s
destiny he had realised.)
My wife was aware of the fear and hesitation that had
engulfed me that night I went out to see the king’s daughter’s dreams. None of
the medical treatises I have mastered ever mentioned anything about anyone,
including the physicians, entering the dreams of a young girl. I came to
understand at that moment, to my shock, that all the art expositions had been
silent about women’s dreams. With that, I had no hesitation to declare that the
art in itself was defective. Only the good or bad effect I would be earning
from this experience should be included in those treatises to serve as an
antidote to this defect. The dreams of a young girl are very elegant.
Secretive. They are as sacred as her virginity that only belongs to her. They
possess incredible wonders, colours and scents. I still believe that anyone
other than her, especially a man, would never get permission to see it.
However, maybe due to some circumstances, I had been destined to see a woman’s
dreams. Now, due to similar circumstances, I have been forced to tell that to
everyone. I have come here to share my experience with the pure heart that this
disclosure will help amend the existing scriptures and the women who are
suffering from such diseases like her elsewhere in the world. I sincerely
permit the sins for having done this to engulf me. Let the god forgive me.
Just like the dreams of any other young women in the world,
the dreams of the king’s daughter were
also about her male partner. Like any other young girl in the world, she was
also very fond of having such dreams. When I got to know about her during my
days with her, I understood from her discernment and the level of comfort that
she had created her own image of her lover in her mind and he had been living with her for a long time. He was
just as inevitable as death. His body parts looked imageless without
specificity and with the quality of water that regains its shape from
dissipation. But he was a very handsome man. Though it was not possible to view
the beauty of his parts individually, his presence and the scent of the dreams
were clearly telling that he was very handsome. How consciously these young
handsome men who couldn’t be seen anywhere in the world are living happily in
the dreams of women! But yet the reality remains that those handsome men
wouldn’t be fit to live with their mortal body. Though that handsome man’s
image looked smoky, his movements were tenacious. He entered through the right
window of the king’s daughter’s bedroom with the weightlessness of a gentle
breeze. No sooner had he entered the bedroom than the bed alone grew to ten
times the size of the palace. The chariot-like bed of the king’s daughter
assumed such a mammoth proportion that a chariot drawn by eight horses could
run on it incessantly for two full days. The clouds and stars were travelling
from one corner of the sky to another above the bed. The craftworks found on
the things kept in the room evolved into separate items. The scent of the
flowers grown in the room went beyond the dreams and spread outside. Since
every tiny particle in the room grew multiple times, their natural hues put on
the brightness and the heat of the sun, and had both of them roaming in the room
bathed in sweat. The king’s daughter was cheerfully flying around with her
lover in the space by creating such a splendid dream world for herself and
mumbling the lines of some sensual songs in the room. His smoky form didn’t
trouble her in any manner. She cuddled him with flesh and blood as if he were a
real man. She kissed him on his lips, chest, navel, and below navel. Both of
them shared most intimate, private teasing, which my ears might find offensive.
The colours, the scents, the sound of laughter, the elegant waves of clothes
amiably merged, and the celebratory howls that could wake the world up from its
slumber had all assumed an immaculate purity in them. It was all because of my
craft that I have been doomed to face this unfortunate time to tell all those
untainted events that even God wouldn’t defile with His words.
***
They
were playing ‘hide and seek’ and ‘blind man’s buff’ for a long time. At the end
of each game, one hugged his or her opponent very tightly as a mark of victory
over them. Every game they played had this as its target. I was in fact amused
and at the same time happy to see them cuddling so tightly as if they could
find only a tiny place in their palace of dreams—which was as big as a huge
pristine forest—that didn’t have enough space for two people even to stand.
After spending most of their time in the
world of dreams, they returned to their
bed. The king’s daughter lay on the cot at her usual place, stretching out her
body, readying to sleep. Her friend emerged from under the cot, swirling,
kissed her legs first, covered her with his kisses all over, and went near to
her face. The eyes of the princess were teary and closed, with immeasurable
peace, ecstasy, and expectation. Dear courtiers! It was at that time that
something terrible that could tear open one’s heart happened! The unhappy
incident that had been tormenting the king’s daughter happened at last. Her
friend, who went very near to her face, suddenly spat out on her face. Within a
second his smoky form got dissipated and disappeared. The spittle spat out from
his extremely handsome face, having no blood and flesh, threw out the foul
smell of the bad dream all over the room and was spilling like a thick white
substance on the face of the king’s daughter. She woke up from her sleep out of
utter shock, repugnance, and wretchedness. I could make a right guess on the
very subsequent night that her dreams during every night were ending that way. But the
pitiable king’s daughter, who was waking up with shock, kept forgetting every
night what she had seen in her dreams due to the aggression of her wake-up.
Because of this, her friend—who spat out the spittle on her face the previous
night—would come the next night and play with her as if nothing had happened;
and she would permit him to play with her without any misgivings only to get
her face smeared with spittle at the end of the game. This continued for long.
He had kept spitting out on her face every night like the tip of a spear thrown
at an improbable speed. This persistent shock got settled at the bottom of her
heart, turned into a fear and repugnance towards handsome men, and eventually
left this beautiful woman’s heart devastated. While the king’s daughter
couldn’t understand the reason behind her eccentric behaviour, I was left
seriously confused without knowing the cause behind her friend’s behaviour till
next night.
To be continued...
