Hearken to my words, for I am the Book of the Ages. Far back, within the hazy depths of time, I was wrought by one of power. With her blood did she write in me; and like liquid fire, her power wove tendrils of magic around me; whispering to my pages the secrets of the Craft, filling me with the fiery enchantments of midnight.

Of silver is my cover, and gems of adamant and ruby spell out my name in a language which has long been lost. Six hundred years since then have I been passed from mother to daughter. Witch to witch.

For by a baseborn mortal, I shall not suffer to be touched; and like a moth against too bright a light shall a human burn against the power that is within me. Innumerable as the stars of the firmament are the tales that I hold. Through the witches who have called me their own, have I known sorrow and joy, rage and forgiveness; pleasure and pain.

Of spells I know, and of curses so potent that they could level empires.

But woeful of all and filled most with dread horror is the Tale of the Werewolf, for it speaks of how that fell race came to be.

Woke up with a jolt. What the hell was i dreaming? Werewolves... books of ages... the 666 fantasy..what is that. May be the after effects of the four large pegs of Johny Walker I gulped down yesterday evening. With so much frustration after this Gothic dream, I went to the washroom to lighten myself or you may say add some extra weight to the already over weighed safety tank.

I lit my Garam menthol. With the curl of smokes I was thinking of what that Gothic dream may mean...praxis??? No!! never me... Gothics has no role in praxis. So what am i doing? My whole existence my whole philosophy, my whole ideology was in real jeopardy. But who the hell cares about your philosophy, ideology or the least about your dream when a day's hard work is waiting for you...

The fantasy world woven in wonderful silken threads of magic and charm pathetically fades at the break of dawn and the beckoning of mundane chores. But as I plod along the day through all the excruciating drudgery of routine rituals of 'living'- working, eating, chatting and commuting to office- there remains a part of my mind clinging to the inexplicable mesmerism of the dreamworld.The ranting of an arrogant manager or a shrewish wife gets softened by the invisible denizens of my night world! I wonder, was it Nature's design that the miserable mortals should find respite in the ethereal joys and alluring mysteries of another, parallel existence in sleep! What shall I dream of tonight? Gothic gore and glory or alien invasion of the next century? The expectation is titillating!

Resting on the couch, i breathe out curls of smoke from my lungs. Like a nomad, my mind wanders around the horizon of the horrible dream. Can it be real? What was my existence before I was born as a human?

I dismiss the whole dream as some weird illogical possibility but Hey! why do I repeat this dream on most nights. Why am I stressed and sweated out on the cold winter nights after this dream. Suddenly the buzz of my cell phone.................

Mom's voice has a magic in it- it always my soothes my troubled spirit! It exactly did that now also. Am I still tied to my mom's apron strings? I never thought homesickness can be so cruel! How I miss the warmth of our home! Perhaps that is why I've taken recourse to these bad habits which are like crutches of false security. I must shake them off because .. because.. I'm about to make a home for myself! Yes, my parents want me to get married soon. Mom is delighted, her voice is excited now as she continues to describe the dream girl they have chosen for me.

But then...how can I convince her that dreams differ from person to person. The girl they have chosen is very nice in deed, at least I can make out from her voice. But I am in perpetual dilemma will she remain happy with me..with a Bohemian. I don't have any thing constant in my life... I have been, throughout my life, a rolling stone. I felt myself to be a free bird, who can rest in an nest for a day or two and fly away searching for another nest. A free bird like me cannot be and should not be tied in the any bond of responsibility... but i can't say no to my mother also. So shall I say yes............