The Tulip

There are many kinds of dreams. Sweet dreams, forgettable dreams and downright eccentric ones. The kind anyone dreads the most is a nightmare. Many years ago, I had a nightmare that I will never forget, even until this day. It started on a calm and peaceful day in a garden. But as I was enjoying my perfect garden in my slumber, to my dismay, something caught my eye. Not a weed, but a tulip. Oh! How I hated that flower! ‘Breasts!” I cursed under my breath. Strangely enough, the tulip did look like a breast, with the underside oozing some kind of milk-like substance. I had not anticipated this. I plucked the breast-tulip. For a moment, the breast-tulip blossomed ever so brightly. Then it withered. “My dearest, why have you betrayed me so? I had intended to sell you off! To live comfortably on the profits!’ A flood of angst rolled over me. It was unbecoming of me, but I didn’t care for it was all a dream. But it felt all too real to me. I sobbed on my knees, cradling the flower, awakening once again in the comforts of my pyjamas, between my bedsheets.