I was watching this Sufi dancer dance. His long white outfit stretched across all directions as he kept spinning round and round. His eyes closed as if he was in some form of prayer or lost in the ecstasy of his art. His hands made all forms of magical gestures, as if they were talking to each other; I swear I could see them glowing. I looked down and realized that the platform he was on had no base; almost as if being hung by such thin strings that it seemed as if it was floating. Or maybe it was? As if the platform and the dancer were controlled by someone else? But I prefer to believe that he was the artist rather than merely being a puppet. And with time, the soft Sufi song playing in the background grew feeble and feeble. Yes, he was floating away. Away to another world? To impress someone else there with his graceful movements? To give life to the beings there, to bless them with spirit? I wouldn't know. I had woken up.
I spent the rest of the day listening to Sufi songs, trying to sketch this person in my dream, just to take another look at him. Each stroke revealing more of him. It felt magical. Traveling back in time. To the times of music, colors, Holy. Masks being peeled off. Introspection.
Out of no where, we started talking. She's a happy soul. Always laughing, making those silly jokes. She loves to talk about her past. I love to listen, to imagine and to live through her memories. After four long nights that felt short, filled with conversations that stretched into late hours, she mentioned that she loved dancing. I asked, "what form?". She said, "Sufi".
- To my Doe
I spent the rest of the day listening to Sufi songs, trying to sketch this person in my dream, just to take another look at him. Each stroke revealing more of him. It felt magical. Traveling back in time. To the times of music, colors, Holy. Masks being peeled off. Introspection.
Out of no where, we started talking. She's a happy soul. Always laughing, making those silly jokes. She loves to talk about her past. I love to listen, to imagine and to live through her memories. After four long nights that felt short, filled with conversations that stretched into late hours, she mentioned that she loved dancing. I asked, "what form?". She said, "Sufi".
- To my Doe
