My Dream Of You

A few nights ago I had a dream about you; you were standing in front of your bedroom mirror, staring at your reflection. It looked like you were trying to pick out every fault in your body; it looked like you were judging the figure that stared back at you.

“Too much dark under my eyes,” you whispered “too much fat, love handles, and belly. My skin is too pale, me skin is too dark.”

You kept saying these things to yourself, things I did not even understand, you were so focused judging yourself that you never noticed I was standing right behind you. I took a few steps and put my hands delicately on your shoulders.

“You are a perfect being; you are a perfect soul, so stop all this weeping and swallow your pride.”

I took your hand and led you out of the room, and then I did something very strange. It seems so vague to me now, but every time I think about it I feel like it really happened, like a distant memory. It seems so real to me that is sometimes scares me. I sat down on a black leather couch –you next to me and then I grinded a stack of books, sniffed the powder and fell once more down the rabbit hole. Twisting and turning, the so called real world fading around me, I was lost in my own mind and as we know, the mind is a funny thing. Don’t worry my love, you were with me all the way and I was in control, we were in control, creating our own little world that was a part of us, our souls projecting everything inside us, we were but one.

Our flight landed, our destination reached…the dream world. We were back once more in the land of lights and sounds, the land of love, peace and freedom. We stood outside a club, me in my black tux, bow tie and black hat tilted to the front covering my eyes, and you with your evening gown that highlighted your body in an elegant manner. The brisk wind rolled around us making your dress flutter, a young girl in rags stopped in our way, she spoke to herself –or to us I do not know. She spoke in a low voice, her words frozen by the weather.

“Last night I had a dream of a man dressed in a long black coat.” She whispered “He spoke of a prophecy; he told me that the world will go out with a whisper not a bang, like a restless flame of a candle, fading away into nothing with only a thin line of smoke left to prove its mere existence. He took my hand and led me to the land of lost souls, the madness, the madness. Last night I had a dream of a man dressed in a long black coat. He showed me an image of an old woman; her head slouched down between her knees, tears falling down her face. He showed me images of men tearing each other apart, women with their hearts tucked inside their designer bags. I saw a greedy nation, a lost generation, a generation lost in space or just up in smoke. I walked through the streets of a once great nation, now engulfed by its own ego, by impurities and by madness…madness. I saw a scattered nation, a divided generation; I fell to my knees and wept. Last night I had a dream of a man dressed in white, his eyes gleaming with grace. He took my hand and whispered in my ear, he spoke of the land of milk and honey. I smiled. I saw people holding hands, I saw people making love not war, I saw men dropping books not bombs, I saw women dancing and children laughing. We sat together in a park under a tree, and when the night sky grew dark the old man in white smiled. He told me a story about a free nation, about a prudent generation, about a land without greed and a land filled with wisdom. Last night I had a dream, but now I’m up, reality is quite unreal, it’s so unreal. Maybe I’m insane, or maybe I’m just another madman, but maybe there is still a chance. Maybe there’s a chance for change, for freedom and peace. Last night I had a dream, but it was just a dream, just a dream.”

When the girl was done, she turned around and walked away like nothing ever happened. I turned to you and saw the tears rolling down your face. I wiped your cheeks with a sigh and we went into the club. We were met by a blast of music and smoke, the sound of people murmuring as if everyone was waiting for us to arrive. On the stage tonight, Sigmund Freud sang the blues along with Robert Johnson –the man who made a deal with the devil a long time ago at the crossroads, I don’t really believe it but everyone says it’s true. I scanned the room for our old friends but I couldn’t find any. I couldn’t help but stare at you; you looked like a princess right out of fairly tale, your beauty radiated all over the place. The waiter showed us to our table, a small one by the corner. I asked the waited about our old pals but the answer I got brought me way down. Bob was on tour, Allen in New York, Jack was on the road like always and Marilyn swallowed some pills that same hot august night. I lit a cigarette and stared at you for a while before I spoke.

“Why do you always do that?” I asked.


“Every time I catch you off guard, I see you judging yourself, you keep judging everything about yourself, the way you look, the way you think, the way you act. Why do you do it?”

“I don’t know, I just feel so insecure sometimes, you know?” you said.

“I can understand that, but why? You are a smart and beautiful woman, life is not a pageant, and you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone except yourself. Do you know why?”


“Because no one has the right to judge you, you are what God made you; all you have to do is be you, nothing more, and nothing less.”

You sat back in silence, analyzing what I’ve just said, I could see it in your eyes that you understood what I meant. I turned my sight to the stage and say Freud getting ready to play one more track for the roaring crowd, he gave them a bow then nodded to Johnson and they played the psychoanalytic blues. I turned to you and said: “You know, I’d rather be with a smart well educated woman than with a smoking hot model like air head”

You laughed, we both did then I asked you to dance. That is when I woke up from my deep coma like snooze.

A good night’s sleep is when you close your eyes and your soul leaves your body just to float about. To wander around on its own, dancing amid the night stars. To float to that place where everything can happen, where everything is real and surreal at the same time, just to roam into the dream world. The human soul is meant to be free, so just close your eyes and let yourself go. Go now and be free, no one can control you if you don’t want to. Go live your life and be strong, go now and defend yourself, go now and shield your rights. Don’t let others bring you down; don’t let others make you feel like you’re worth less that you’re really worth. You are special in your own way, so celebrate your uniqueness. And whenever you feel down, whenever you feel like the whole world it against you, whenever you feel like you’re not good enough, you’ll find me right here in the dream world sitting in that small table in the corner smoking a cigarette, you’ll find me dancing along the thin line between fact and fiction


About Ahmed Gretly

Ahmed Nader Gretly. Construction/Site Engineer, fiction writer, poet, psychopath, researcher, a book addict, and a daydreamer from Cairo, Egypt. Currently doing Construction Project Management, MSc, at Heriot-Watt University, Edinburgh.
This entry was posted in Fiction. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to My Dream Of You

  1. Mona B says:

    I found your blog when you subscribed to mine, and all I can say is that you remind me so much of myself that I was stunned when I read some of your posts…I guess we both have twisted minds 🙂

    • Ahmed Nader says:

      Well Ms. Mona, Dania Younis told me that you’re a talented writer, so I had to check out for myself. I really dig your writing man, I like your style. I’m glad you liked my work. 😀

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