A Teardrop on the Cheek of Time

On Saturday night (or rather, early on Sunday morning) I had a dream.

Of the many ways that people can be divided into two groups, those who dream and remember their dreams are one group, those who don't dream (or don't remember their dreams) are another. I fall into the former group.

Most vivid dreaming occurs during periods of REM sleep. Research has shown that creative people have more vivid dreams and better dream recall than people who are less creative. I can't say how this relates to me, but my dreams are extremely vivid and complex, and I can frequently remember them well enough to relate them to Norm later in the day.

I think of my dreams as entertainment during my sleeping hours.

So, back to the dream I had on Sunday morning.

I dreamt that I was on a tour with a lot of people, including Norm. The beginning of the dream is less well-formed, but at some point I was in a large building with glass around the sides, as if it were an airport or an observation tower. Norm was with me and we rounded a corner (along with a bunch of other people) and a cluster of skyscrapers came into view; they were very close, and we were level with some of their roofs, as if we were also in a skyscraper. Beyond and surrounded by more tall buildings I saw the dome of the Taj Mahal.

I was very excited to see, in the midst of all of the modern architecture, this Eastern masterpiece, even though all that was visible was the beautiful dome.

I wanted to take a picture, and I had a tiny round silver camera that came in a box of chocolates that I had (I remember being annoyed that the chocolates kept disapppearing when my back was turned). I raised the little camera to take the picture, but Norm said something and I turned to look at him, and when I turned back, the dome had been obscured by clouds or fog.

We decided to go down to the ground floor and see if we could go around the Taj Mahal to get a picture of the front. First we went to the back and into the Taj, and entered a room wherein there was a group undergoing guided meditation, lying on silken mats like gossamer. We tried to lie on the mats, but I really wanted the picture, and I wanted to use my regular camera, not the little silver one from the chocolates, so after a few minutes we got up and left.

I went around to the front of the Taj, and it was indeed magnificent, but before I could take a picture, I woke up.

Later in the day, I turned on the TV. I flipped through the movie channels, and landed on one called Last Dance, a movie I have never seen. It was the end of the movie, and the closing shot of the movie was a camera panning around to the front of - you guessed it - the Taj Mahal as the credits started to roll. It looked very much like it did in my dream.

The next day I had to call Microsoft about a software issue with my computer. The man I spoke to was in India. So, of course I had to ask him about the Taj Mahal. He said that he had seen it twice in his life, and the interior had once been covered with precious jewels, but that the jewels had been stolen throughout the ages.

Certainly there are no skyscrapers around the Taj Mahal. But such is the logic of dreams.

The complex of buildings is a monument to love built by Mughal emperor Shah Jahan (whose name in Persian meant "King of the World") as a tomb for his wife Mumtaz Mahal ("Chosen One of the Palace"), who died in 1631 during the birth of their 14th child (if you ask me, building the Taj was the least he could do). The Taj Mahal was started the following year but was not completed until around 1653.

Since then, it has become an iconic symbol of elegance and beauty, the ne plus ultra of Indian art.

Of all of the descriptions of the Taj that have been written throughout the ages, my favorite is by Rabindranath Tagore, the great Indian poet, who called the Taj Mahal "one teardrop on the cheek of time."

Maybe some day I will get to see it in my waking hours. Until then, I'll see it in my dreams.