M for Moby Dick

It was there since a long time. The dream had come to him when he was a child. And it had repeated a lot since then. He learnt painting just because of that dream. And the only painting he ever painted was that dream. He had put his heart and soul into creating it and therefore the painting had felt very real by the time he had finished it.

That scenery. He did not know where it was. He had tried to find it out. Tried a lot but failed every time. No one knew such a place. Then why was he dreaming about that place? He put up his painting in a well-known gallery and put up the title – “Where is this place?”

Anyone who would see that painting remained mesmerized by it. The waves felt so real that it was almost like a window to a beach. There were so many offers to buy it, prices increasing with every bid, but he did not want to sell it. He just wanted to know where it was. It was starting to consume all of his thoughts – it had become an obsession.

He quit his job and started travelling. He started working in odd places to get money for the next travel. He searched high and low, went from pillar to post, went everywhere, still the only thing he found was his flair for writing. So he started a travel blog with posts about every place he used to travel, and also used to paint some of the scenes he visited. Very soon he became a very famous blogger and painter. His paintings started getting enormous attention from across the world as the case with his blogs.

He got fame and money, what every one else wanted in life. But he still could not find what he wanted in life – that place. His travels started taking his age with it. Years passed and he started getting too old to be a wanderer. His travels became less and less frequent. But he still hadn’t found that place. Slowly he started accepting the fact that maybe he will never find that place. Maybe his dream will remain that – just a dream.

And along came an offer – an offer from a friend for a final travel. It was part of his friend’s bucket list to visit a remote place he had chosen. He knew it might be the last travel of his life. So he took it up and agreed to go with his friend.

The day arrived and they landed at the place. From the moment they arrived, he started feeling restless. There was a pull in the air he could not define. He let his friend rest and took up in the direction he felt a calling to come. The journey was long and it took him from a lot of varied landscapes. And just when he was about to call it quits and return home, he reached a landing to a beach.

He had reached the place of his dream, and that too at his last travel. The calling was from his subconscious. He was meant to come here. He went to the beach and sat there – sat there for a long time thinking “Now what?” He had achieved his dream which was haunting him since childhood and now he was an old man finally at the destination.

By that time he was so tired that he fell asleep right at the beach. And that is when that dream came. Another place. This time in mountains with a small stream of river flowing down. He woke up with a start. The dream was so vividly engraved in his eyes that he felt he could touch it.

And that is when he realized that life had not stopped yet, and neither should he. He had found another dream to pursue and away he should go once again. His Moby Dick is not gone yet. Thus taking up his laptop and painting kit, he goes on to find his next dream at yet another destination.

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About devinair

A thinker, dreamer, ponderer, I love to think of things which normally people wouldn't. These thoughts are put into words for the world to read through my blogs. Do feel free to comment on them If you like to read, do feel free to go through my book reviews to help you select the next best book to read. Follow the link http://theverdictsout.wordpress.com
This entry was posted in alphabet, Creativity, Decisions, Fiction, Life, Passion, Short Story, Wish, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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