It was the weirdest dream ever.

I am walking towards a gate, much like those in India. It seems like I am coming back home after work. At the gate I meet my father. He asks me, “Are you up for a walk?” I say, “Of course, always.”

So he shows the way and we start walking. It’s night time. We are somewhere in Mission Copound, in Saharanpur. I remember the lanes. Walking them all over again, at night, with my father. It’s a wonderful feeling. We seem to be discussing something. Something serious. I follow my father’s hand motions. I observe the modulation in his voice. Always expressing more than he was saying.

And then we come across a part of town where there is some construction going on and the side walk is closed. He guides me through that. He is ahead and I am following him. Carefully. It is also muddy. It might have rained.

When I’ve almost caught up with him, he looks back at me. Just that it’s not him looking at me. It is someone else. I look at this face. I know him. But there is no reason for him to be in this dream. It’s shocking but consoling at the same time. I trust this face. Our conversation carries on, as if it never paused in the first place. We keep walking. He is leading and I am happily following.

We come back to where the walk had started. There is no one at the gate now. It’s late. But I decide to wait. I know my father will meet me here. I let the person go. He insists to stay. I assure him that I will be fine. We say good bye. And I wait….And then I wake up.

I don’t know what to make of this dream. But it had a jarring effect on me all day. First thing I did when I woke up this morning was to tell Agam about my dream, so that I don’t forget it.

Regardless, it was nice to go for a long walk with Papa after a very long time.