As another uneventful day came to end, I reluctantly proceeded to my bed. I was not particularly sleepy but the clock was nearing 3 am. The predominant thought in my mind was to retire rather than spend more time in front of the laptop. Somewhere my MBA Finance degree was speaking and telling me to cut my losses than stay invested. But the insaner part of my brain was asking me to continue sitting, probably in the hope of churning out something interesting. Of course I had the support of night and peace around me to evoke my creativity.

It felt a scene straight out of a cartoon. Remember the one where there are two smaller versions of you perched on either shoulder? One is an angel, dressed in all white with a wand and a halo to complete the effect. The other one is Devil Incarnate, typically green in color, two horns, pointed lashing tail and a giant fork poking you.

If history is known to repeat itself, I would yet again choose to go with the Little Green Me. Not because he is cute but he makes more sense to me. Always.

But who am I kidding? Writing is not child’s play. It has been so many days that I’ve been sitting like a statue in front of this computer. It feels like writer’s block is not a phase but a curse. Yet why do I still feel that I can be the next bestselling author? Obviously there is nothing wrong in dreaming. But is day dreaming about it right? As these introspection sessions usually continue, I started reminiscing and landed up seven years in my past.

I still remember the first time I seriously started writing. It was during my MBA. A course in Entrepreneurship had a lot of written assignments and one particular professor was hell bent on invoking the author in us. He continuously prodded us to come up with original theories, hypothesis and templates that would shake the world of business. I partly blame him for my insomnia. But I mostly credit him for pushing the envelope for me.

He somehow figured that I was the guy constantly living on the edge. Maybe my restlessness was too evident in the aggressive outside-the-class discussions over countless beers. Or maybe he genuinely liked my revolutionary ideas. I personally fancied the life of Che Guevara and Robin Hood. And that was no secret on campus. But its not really poverty or lack of healthcare that moved me as much as government apathy, archaic laws and inequality.

So Prof M coaxed and cajoled me into converting my learning from life and MBA into a vision for ‘my kind of world’. He basically gave me a blank canvas and asked me to paint. It was like going back to my childhood. You know those art teachers who ask you to paint the world as you see it? And every kid in the class draws three mountains, a sun peeping out from the middle, a hut under a tree and an unpolluted river flowing beside. It is unbelievable how each and every kid across all schools in the city (and perhaps the country) end up drawing the same scenery at that age.

For a moment I did feel like writing about a rich and successful, suave, handsome, bachelor staying in a posh penthouse in Manhattan; going to work in sharp suits; sipping on the most expensive wine; surrounded by exotic women; driving the most exotic sports cars; jet setting across the world at his own whim and basically living the life that every man only dreams of. Correction – what every man only day-dreams of.

But what was the harm in dreaming? I have always believed in the power of dreams and positive thinking. Don’t they say that the basis for all big successes in life lie in dreaming big? Isn’t it where it all begins? I am fortunate enough to be a vivid dreamer while sleeping. But the problem with that is my goldfish memory. I cannot remember anything beyond 15 seconds of waking up. And unfortunately those 15 seconds are spent in such a zombie state that I’m unable to pen down anything for further processing.

And then it struck me. Like a bolt of good lightening – a healthy one. Prof M was instigating us to dream. And go beyond the ordinary at that. He always used to tell us – If you continue doing what you have always done, you will remain ordinary. In order to truly shine, you need to think out of the box and dream the un-ordinary.

So I went a step ahead and extended my hobby to my waking hours as well. I figured that would be (one of the) best utilization of my free time. Naturally to a person who is a non-dreamer this may come as a funny, even absurd piece of advice. But trust me, it is one of the best pearls of wisdom you can hand down to your future generations.

If you ever talk to children you will realize how their world is made of of images conjured during dreams. They have all the right to do so. After all their thoughts are unpolluted by worldly distractions and material comforts. For them its all about staying with family in their own house (irrespective of the size) and living a simple life. Then somewhere along the time-line of life, the definition of world changes as people start growing up and get exposed to the rat race. My guess is that an average adult consciously stops day dreaming first before it carries over to his sub-conscious mind and that’s where he stops dreaming during sleep as well.

I had numerous off-the-record conversations with Prof M after our first few interactions. Somehow I always felt I would end up as him, I saw my future in his persona. Or maybe he saw his younger self in me. Either way we had a karmic connection that no words or theories can satisfactorily explain. We shared many dreams with each other. I think that happened because both our dreams were unfulfilled at some level. While my dreams were about the future, his were in the past.

To me, he was a Guardian Angel and I will always remain indebted to him.