Habit

A strapping young man decided one day,
That he would with a full heart of love,
Service the society,his fellow beings.
This lad chose a profession quiet noble one for that.
Counselling;that was his idea of spreading the healing touch.
And toiled he hard, for a suitable berth,
In the hallowed preccints of a prestigious school,
Where they taught them the secret,
Of reading the dreams.
The institute was in Australia,and the lad of modest background.
But sold he did all that was there,
Lest his dream be shatterred before taking flight.
And off he went to the southern land,
Brushing off the warnings of his guardians and peers.
Upon landing at the hallowed preccints,
Of this school of psychology, where he intended to learn,
Was told by the learned teachers, that he needs to chalk out,
His dreams as they came.
And he was to do all the research,
Depending on his own dreams as they came.
Got he stuck the very following day,
As no dream came for the entire day.
Perplexed he was, as were the teachers.
How can you not dream?
All stood in askance.
The following day again turned out the same.
No dream... no dream...after a night of deep sleep.
Worried now the teachers were.
All in chorus said these very words;
Go, go on back to where you came from.
No place here for a non dreamer sort.
All you need for this course of yours,
Is a good dreaming routine for the research to begin.
Failing that, you may not stay here,
For there would a dreamer, waiting in your place.
The words never escaped the mouth of these learned men,
When the world around the strapping lad shattered in a wink.
This cannot be true, he thought.
i came here for a fruitless return?
Never! never will this be true!
And his eyes welled up with his pride's melting away.
Dejected and tired, he crept up his bed.
Falling asleep he reached a state,
When his mind didn't know the real and the fake.
Then it came, the most serene dream.
The dream of himself, in a doctors coat,
A couple of children on his lap,
And a fair lady by his side, donning a red dress.
Smiling he woke the next morning,
And went up to the panel of learned men,
Calling out his favourite tune,
He sang his dream to them.
All nodded in agreement,
That indeed a genius was he,
Noting down the details they started off,
On a report writing spree.