What is even my Dream?

That experienced gentleman,
A humane person,
Yet to-the-point,
Direct.

The really sticky conundrum,
He solved it,
A simple solution,
A question.

What is your dream really?
The one you think,
Or the one I see?
A statement.

He suggested a leap of faith.
Mumbai, of course,
What else really?
Mumbai.

No, I was absolutely clear!
Not with uncertainty,
Not without them,
Mummy-Papa!

The conversation just conversed,
Me within myself,
Talking endlessly,
This was it.

Without looking at their faces,
Being away for long,
It might well be,
A nightmare.

What is even my dream?
Maybe it is the world,
And I’m a part,
Not creator!

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