Last night, I dreamed. I couldn’t sleep. Sleep betrayed me and left me to awake.
I dreamed of my dream to write. A story which not only reaches to millions but also reaches to their heart. It wouldn’t be just a book which will grace the shelf. It must be a story they always wanted to read but never get it.
I dreamed of a notebook and a pen. I dreamed of scribbling down the words forming the sentences. I saw my story coming into existence. The real existence of words of life and death. I dreamed of a book of my story. A story that began with a dream to tell a story.
A dream which I keep alive in my heart of hope. A dream of a story. A story of a dream.
I didn’t sleep the whole night but the morning I woke up with a dream.