Yesterday, the alarm went off, but my body said no. After a three-day holiday and a grueling, crowded trip to the zoo day before yesterday, exhaustion had settled into my bones. I finally dragged myself up when the doorbell rang, went through the motions of prepping my son for school, and waved him goodbye.
The house went quiet. The cold winter morning and the lingering fatigue from the trip pulled me toward the couch. I drifted off, and that’s when the "feast" began.
I found myself in a gathering—it felt like my own society. Rows of delicious sweet and savory dishes were arranged on steps, reminiscent of a Dussehra Golu celebration. The aroma was so thick and flavorful I could almost taste it. I couldn't resist.
When I reached the display, a man told me, "It’s Prasad. You don’t need a plate." He insisted I just take a tiny bite and leave the rest for others. But everything looked too tempting—golden pooris, glistening halwas, and sweets. And then, there was the centerpiece: a beautiful cake shaped like a doll wearing a vibrant red evening gown. It wasn't large, but it was exquisite.
"Please," I asked the man again, "just a small plate."
He eventually found one for me. I didn't hold back; I took a sizeable portion of every variety until that small plate was full. Finally, I reached for the doll. Remembering his instruction to take only a small part, I made a choice: I cut off the head of the doll and placed it on my plate.
I woke up an hour later feeling strangely full, the scent of that dream-feast still lingering in the air. Ironically, I woke to the sound of my husband busy in the kitchen, a sharp contrast to the chaos of our zoo trip the day before.
It was so vivid, just like a dream I had exactly a year ago. Why do our minds give us these feasts when we are at our most tired?
Do you ever have dreams that feel more real (and more delicious) than reality? Please share your stories in the comments!
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