My Dream Diary

A Your Echoes In Space Presentation: My Dream Diary

Words and Pictures by © Mazzy Khatun 2017

 

An idea for a story can behave like the moon. It appears bright, swollen with revelation. You twirl in excitement. You shout it out. You breathe it.

Then, just like that, it wanes. It vanishes.

Without your consent.

Without waiting to hear what you have to say.

Without warning.

You eventually console yourself, reasoning that the idea has departed for good. No longer do you feel its unmistakable tug. It has left your world and joined the dark darkness of oblivion. No one will ever know about it. It was never meant to be.

The end.

Not quite.

Your Echoes In Space was born last autumn. I chose a photograph out of a constellation of possibilities to use as a writing prompt. It was a dated picture of an intimidating teacher looking down at a boy. He had his arms behind his back, his head slightly lowered. She was waiting for him to pick up the chalk and write on the blackboard. There was no clock in the scene yet I could hear the ticking of the hand, the loud ominous dragging of time.

I took that photograph home with me. By evening, Edward had pushed through into existence. A brilliant-minded and exceptionally articulate pupil, he was also something else. A self-isolating racist bully. I saw him take particular joy in picking on the new ‘coloured’ kid, Alok.

In those embryonic moments I also saw astronomy. A discipline about distant things. The study of stars – the study of fantastic and mysterious entities of faraway places, that spun and pulsated light years above our heads, below our feet.  I wanted astronomy to be the adhesive, the study of the distant bridging the gap between two boys from two different worlds.

But.

In the autumn term of my MA writing course and through into the festive season, for reasons unknown to me, my passion for Your Echoes In Space began to wane. Somehow, something had pulled the plug. I was devoid of conviction.

My two boys had fled.

Determined to not let myself be swallowed up by the disappearance of my protagonists, I straightened up my back and returned to the drawing table. I scribbled new ideas, thoughts and musings. I must carry on, I told myself. I must.

In semester two my tutor introduced me to something that would change everything. It felt absolutely right. It was as if a missing piece had been salvaged and returned to my mantle; awareness once flaked and lost in the dense foliage of self-doubt now restored.

Welcome to the dream diary.

I have vivid dreams. They are always liberating and surreal and insightful. Till now it had never clicked that I could tap into this vast resource for fuelling my creative energy. I began to keep a diary. And I dreamt a lot, every night.

And, the dream was not just a dream. It was a bridge.

Between two worlds.

Between my boys and I.

They had not waned, withered, wasted.

They were growing, gestating, gleaming.

Like the furled sails of a new moon.

Alok and Edward.

In so many of my dreams.

They had not gone away. They had gone deeper. Deeper into me, into the parts of my brain for which no map could chart. Parts still wet from my primal days. Parts moist with soul.

I remembered. I remembered how to believe in my story again.

The dream diary. That is how they came back to my world, our world.

One world.

"They had not waned, withered, wasted. They were growing, gestating, gleaming. Like the furled sails of a new moon."

“They had not waned, withered, wasted. They were growing, gestating, gleaming. Like the furled sails of a new moon.”

"They had not gone away. They had gone deeper. Deeper into me, into the parts of my brain for which no map could chart. Parts moist with soul. "

“They had not gone away. They had gone deeper. Deeper into me, into the parts of my brain for which no map could chart. Parts still wet from my primal days. Parts moist with soul. “

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An Interview With Miss Sophiya By Aunty Mazzy Rey!

My most ardent Reader & Mr Chubby Cheeks ♥ 

It is my lunch hour and it so happens that I have a laptop by my side so before I gallivant off to attend to other fiddly businesses of the day – the classroom is a never-ending but delightful theatre of surprises – I shall gift You with another round of humorous vitamins to serve the needs of the old brain cells! Do not forget those ever critical Admiral Telescopes, I should not want to be dishonourably sued for permanently damaging Your retinal carpet! Giggle-wriggle!

TEACHER’S HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT: Pick any question that was recently asked to a high profile politician and pose it in the same fashion to Your little hobbit. Ensure You have a camera, pen and notebook handy to comprehensively document the resultant reaction. For those reeling from the exhaustion of the world’s backwardness, I think You will discover it is a most enlightening and refreshing exercise!

May the Force be with You – but beware of flatulent foxes, the ginormous expulsion of air originating from the ‘elementary canal’ of such a creature can violently shake off cosmetic wigs! Giggle, giggle!
Your dimpled Ray of Light, Mazzy xxx

An Interview With Miss Sophiya

“I shall gift You with another round of humorous vitamins to serve the needs of the old brain cells…”

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Birmingham | Midlands | UK 2015 

The White Rabbit And The Dubious Case Of The Treasure Box

White Rabbit, White Rabbit what olden, old-as-the-hills secret thou keep in thy Treasure Box?
Pray tell me not of bric-a-brac and soggy fishermen’s socks!
I, Alice, felt at this point my arbitration was urged and necessary
Hereby, my Beloved Reader, I distil a riddles apothecary:

An object undefiled by the jugular smog of the CT
On Your wall it would bode well, a thing positively RT
Not frightful or of threat, appraised as a delectable QT
To not solve this puzzle this Sunday, ah a bugging PT
Hidden to eyes mundane and yet this box is never MT…

White Rabbit, White Rabbit what olden, old-as-the-hills secret thou keep in thy Treasure Box?
Pray tell me not of bric-a-brac and soggy fishermen’s socks… :))

The White Rabbit And The Dubious Case Of The Treasure Box

“… White Rabbit, White Rabbit what olden, old-as-the-hills secret thou keep in thy Treasure Box?
Pray tell me not of bric-a-brac and soggy fishermen’s socks… “

An Arcane Afterword For My ‘Facebook Students’: I am quite respected in these parts for my rare brand of teaching style, I do not spoon feed answers to those that walk in through my doors, preferring instead to make the Learner think for themselves, my part in their journey is to simply cattle prod them in the right direction. Giggle, giggle!  I strive to do the same in the virtual world, although it can prove to be an enormously complicated undertaking since I am not even afoot here for more than ten minutes a day, sometimes even less. I am infinitely more comfortable sat under a tree with my books and my steely sincerity that is my camera! HOWEVER, for You, I am drawn to make visitations so that I can extend a helping hand in prodding You into the right direction. When my work is done and my mission complete I shall, as like morning dew, disappear from Your sight. It is not a callous gesture of abandonment, but the highest accolade I could ever extend out to You that encompasses my belief that the path has been LIT and all that remains is for You to now walk forward, towards Your dreams! HURRAH….!!! :)) :)) :)) 

“When You need me but do not want me then I must stay, but when You want me but no longer need me then I have to go…” – Nanny McPhee

LINK:   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TioxrYazL4s

Photography & Poetry: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | My Home | Winchester | UK 2015

Storytelling In Pictures: A Special Ed Art Exhibition

Ladies, Gentlemen and Children I have the great pleasure of presenting to You
The last of our gifted students with her palette of wonders, a crowning debut
Bright and happy colours are the dews that drip from her paintbrush
She’s a shy little lady, why, just glance at that scarlet blush!
She brings a message to You all, “Live like the eighth colour of a rainbow”
Bring joy to others in any way You can, don’t be a grumpy rhino!
And when Life gives You Oranges, cook up some marmalade jam for all
While telling stories round campfires, let the forest be Your dance hall…

EPILOGUE: Today marks International Tiger Day, a collective effort to raise awareness of one of the most majestic creatures of our planet yet whose survival at present is endangered by the ever continuing conflict between humans and wild tigers as both fiercely compete for habitation and resources. The tiger has been poetically esteemed as an animal of cunning prowess, a fearless hunter and a vivid demonstration of the inimitable artistic palette of Mother Nature. Born under the star sign of Leo, I am naturally drawn to the cats of the wild and could it be sheer coincidence or another neat proof of harmony that one of my most beloved of sentinels of the forest happens to be blessed in plentiful brushstrokes of the most hypnotic application of marmalade jam… :))

LINK: https://www.facebook.com/ashmoleanmuseum/posts/10153535717258442

Storytelling In Pictures: A Special Ed Art Exhbition

“… She brings a message to You all, “Live like the eighth colour of a rainbow”
Bring joy to others in any way You can, don’t be a grumpy rhino…”

Photography & Poem: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

School Is Out!

Before he whizzed out of class a portrait did I snap up of the ever determined Mr Footie
Victoriously passing all tests I fanned at him, unquestionably he deserves a cookie
Which I did bestow on him and on all my other stellar Special Ed chaps
And to You, my admirable reader, I implore You dish out the jubilant claps!
What You may not have gathered was the risky business of taking this shot
For I am 5ft 1 and Mr Footie is 7ft – as tall as the mast of a yacht!
So how did I achieve this eye-to-eye composition You annoyingly ask me?
To answer You must release the flotsam of the mind’s conventional debris
I am a Red Fairy of Bengal, born with wings that flutter stardust
They heave me towards the blue sky, farewell to the earth’s crust!
When gifts of this unorthodox kind are under one’s sleeves
No height is unconquerable, I can float above tree leaves
Oh, and like all my portrait offerings I am present in the frame
Invisible to the eye but as luminescent as a flamenco flame
I live in the faces of those that I admire most in my life’s story
Gaze thoughtfully and You shall see my echo, ‘tis really no mystery!
Backdrop of emerald greens, a twinkle in the eye, warm honey smile poised to the left side
Via the conduit of my student I send You a comforting glance – Love from Your guiding Bride…

BREAKING NEWS – BREAKING NEWS – BREAKING NEWS: C-A-T me if You can! Well, the peeping cats at Lick Observatory will join alliance with the just announced Breakthrough Listen Project, a revitalization of the scientific study and search for intelligent life in the Universe! The pursuit of the Unseen – I would imagine You are already underway with Your own version of this project… :))

LINK:  http://astronomynow.com/2015/07/21/lick-observatory-joins-search-for-intelligent-life-in-the-universe/

School Is Out!

“… Backdrop of emerald greens, a twinkle in the eye, warm honey smile poised to the left side
Via the conduit of my student I send You a comforting glance – Love from Your guiding bride… “

Photography & Poem: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

C-A-T Me If You Can!

Pen hoisted between the enchanted corridors of nimble gifted fingers
Proudly my student displays a casting of You and I, a fragrance that still lingers
Crosshatched colour technique applied she did, thus face of netted tea-rose pink
Two cats embroiled in affectionate embraces, white fur of the softest mink
But what pursuits, what chases, what sweet attempts You cast to entice me to follow You
Yes, we will have endured many storms before reality gives us our cue
Ah, I can see now from afar the puzzlement that ripples through Your solemn face
Breathlessly You pose, “How do her Special Ed students possess an advanced knowledge base?”
What substance is this chain, this link, this connection that crosses Space and Time?
Whose craft has led a mirror between us, causing our words and pictures to rhyme
For the present, let us admire the art of You and I incarnated as two cats, O my beloved man
And someday I shall explain everything to You but first C-A-T me if You can…!

EPILOGUE: No News to report today, but something extraordinary came my way tonight as I was just about to post this blog onto my website. Addressing to the man who is my fond stranger beyond vast seas, the one who has begun to appreciate the true meaning of Faith as the heartfelt belief in the goodness of the Unseen, my invisibility of face torments and yet renews his Spirit and for that matter I pray he will click on the link below. I shan’t attach a flowery explanative note, simply, look upon this photograph and see me as You have always seen me in Your dreams… :))

LINK: https://www.facebook.com/The.Eternal.Sunshine.Page/photos/a.138494749517237.20600.138480696185309/985429008157136/?type=1&theater

C-A-T Me If You Can!

“… For the present, let us admire the art of You and I incarnated as two cats, O my beloved man
And someday I shall explain everything to You but first C-A-T me if You can…”

Photography & Poetry: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

A Painting Of Our Class: Miss Garlic, Mr Garlic And Seven Naughty Ones!

Imagination knows no limits with this adorable student of mine
By heart she can recite the songs of Disney’s ‘Frozen’ line by line!
In our Special Ed class, on the last day of college, she set diligently to task
Breathing animation on paper, a portrait of paints: our faces in mask
We all grow out from green grass as like the pure bodies of garlic, a smiling army
Included in the frame is Miss Garlic – and that of course would be me!
My student, cheeky as she is, drew in a Mr Garlic, my Love yet to materialise
And loyally in suit follow seven little naughty ones, You do realise
That they refer to the students although I predict Mr Garlic would interpret differently
Wishing me to be mother to his seven children unconditionally!
What an incorrigible rascal my husband is! What a crook, what a fool!
Yet in this humble heart of mine he kisses the walls of my throbbing school
Ah, one last thing before I scoot, the wave of blue in the sky is not what you think
Rather, proof repeats again that our Destinies are irrefutably in sync:
It is the flutter of a deep blue cape belonging to the real Mr Garlic who is out somewhere
And that is why next to my adorable student I have left him an empty chair… :))

BREAKING NEWS – BREAKING NEWS – BREAKING NEWS: My preeminent and artistic student described in the aforementioned poem and shown below displays a penchant for applying the white canvas to a constructive LOAD of colours. The final effect is a pleasure to the eyes, I am sure you will agree on this. I regret to inform everyone that the same cannot be said about Mr Garlic, my imaginary husband, who seems to have picked up a very unhealthy habit of UPLOADING socks into the washing machine and, worse still, singing about them in the most dreadfully out-of-pitch voice! Dear Garlic ji, I know Your heart is white and so You wish to see the same degree of cleanliness in Your apparel but, honestly, leave the socks to me! Giggle, giggle… :))

LINK: https://www.facebook.com/zoomtv/photos/a.10152176046864123.1073741862.81147439122/10153400984839123/?type=1&theater

A Painting Of Our Class: Miss Garlic, Mr Garlic And Seven Naughty Ones!

“… We all grow out from green grass as like the pure bodies of garlic, a smiling army
Included in the frame is Miss Garlic – and that of course would be me…”

Photography & Poem: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

Love And Light

In our Special E(i)d art class a theatrical lady of rhapsodic epic talent
Wished to transmit a message to You therefore stop, listen, be silent!
Nothing is more beautiful than Love that has weathered the storms of Life
Hearts whose cavities are built on Faith, to withstand attack and strife
Even solar winds are no match against the Light inside my heart and Yours
Deflection proffered on us thanks to bending of Universal laws
And today, behold, New Horizons proved my premonitions right
Oh how indebted I am to Destiny to bless me with the Gift of Sight
Click or copy on the link below, let your voice turn to speechless awe
As You watch the tail – sorry – tale of our Love shoot out from the back door!
Composed of iconic-ionic bonds that will trail infinitely into Space
True Love is a strange thing indeed yet Ours will never erase
And if You turn NASA’s page vertical You will see my face on this blessed Eid night
Skin the midnight blue of Krishna, a veil stitched of the reddest Light…

BREAKING NEWS – BREAKING NEWS – BREAKING NEWS: A very special Message from NASA’s New Horizons project that neatly proves that nothing is more beautiful than Love that has weathered the storms of Life! If you are particularly imaginative you might also pick up an interesting signal providing you turn your screen around: An intriguing self-portrait of me in a veiled form with ripples of a ‘third eye’ on my forehead. Oh now, do stop giggling – or, are you on the contrary smiling and bereft of words… :))

Link: https://www.facebook.com/NASA/photos/a.67899501771.69169.54971236771/10153404713986772/?type=1&theater

Love & Light

“… Nothing is more beautiful than Love that has weathered the storms of Life
Hearts whose cavities are built on Faith, to withstand attack and strife…”

Photography & Poetry: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

“The Force Is Strong In Your Love Story”, Explains Our James Bond

Christmas Month Puzzle Box 6: On The Matter Of The Pen That Is My Sword!

This is to be an immaculate piece of timely adjunction to a post that I had composed previously, right before the start of the summer holidays to be precise. I have chosen to include it in my Christmas Month Puzzle Box series in light of the recent spot of funniness that has been going over the scholastic matter of bad spelling! Ahem, ahem and plenty of giggle, giggle!

Destiny is fully committed to entertaining my words with serious consideration, and more often than not, soon after taking form on paper or screen it becomes translated onto the stage of the real world. The pen is my sword, but what would You say if I were to purposefully loosen the strings on my own principles? Wink, wink!

With stellar sophistication, WATCH how I tweet hilarious errors into Mr SOLO’s RIGHT ear, encouraging him to refer to the film’s hitherto unseen scenes in the language of olden Arthurian English where a Lightsaber duel becomes a “sword fight” – or might he be taking after my own heart to describe a battle of sword-like pens, a war of intellectual proportions? Giggle, giggle!

As for the ‘Kilo’ blunder, Mr Solo fell for that spelling faux pas with gliding ease. In olden English the expression, “dropped like a lead balloon” is a phrase that means literally or figuratively that something will not fly. That it will drop like a rock as the apple had once done so to poor old Newton’s head! Sorry old chap! Since I have been ranting on about the lightness of balloons, this phrase naturally trickled into the wrinkly ear of the pilot of Millennium Falcon when I came to the part of letting him know of what I intend to do with the bad guys! Giggle, giggle! Thus, instead of typing ‘Kylo’, Mr Solo purposefully stamped our collective intentions for the fate of that nastily masked Mr Ren! A spelling error no doubt, but it lends solidarity and weight to our cause… ♥♥♥   

Bad spelling is not necessarily a bad trait, in the right context it could win me over and, with uncontrollable blush, I confess that would be a nice way to meet the sweetest sort of “trouble” for the first time in my life!

Do enjoy reading all this in conjunction with the older post below and I am absolutely certain in my mind that You shall be left gasping for breath, wishing that You could relive every moment as like this, one in which You could take delight in witnessing pieces of a jigsaw fit together to reveal – no – to unveil the beauty and sophistication of what was previously withheld from Your craving eyes… ♥♥♥

I LAVA to AMAZE You!
Mazzy Rey xxx

LINK TO SOLO’S NON-SOLO SPELLING BLUNDERS: http://i100.independent.co.uk/article/did-this-harrison-ford-tweet-accidentally-reveal-a-massive-star-wars-spoiler–WJYDixlw9x?utm_source=indy&utm_medium=top5&utm_campaign=i100   
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“The Force is strong in your Love Story”, explains our James Bond
A Special Ed student of mine, behold the magic of his wand!
On this final day of college, James painted in homage to my passion
For pigments of rose-red and affections for vehicles out of fashion!
Not a Lamb-orghini GT, nor a conventional oaf of a Mercedes-Benz
I’m the kinda girl who scoots on a double-decker bus with my fountain pen and lens!
A weakling and a wimp my humble bus may look to the world beyond
But one man does not think so, the man who lives across the pond
Fast cars and muscles are illusions that last for a breath of a day
Strong on the outside it gleams but as fragile as papier-mâché
So, look again at my red bus, modelled by our own Bond with a good cause
You’ll see my face in numbers, words and in the Force of Star Wars
And such Force walks with me because I know that I am loved by someone unable to correspond
We’re two weak particles bound by the strongest iconic-ionic bond…


BREAKING NEWS – BREAKING NEWS – BREAKING NEWS!!! 
The New Horizons mission has just revealed that my Love has been discovered sitting on Char-On and he is feeling rather depressed which is mostly due to the fact that he thinks he is a goat on a mountain! English was never his strong point! He is actually a Mountain in a Moat… :))

LINK: http://www.theverge.com/2015/7/16/8979745/charon-surface-photo-pluto-flyby-nasa-new-horizons

“The Force Is Strong In Your Love Story”, Explains Our James Bond

“… So, look again at my red bus, modelled by our own Bond with a good cause
You’ll see my face in numbers, words and in the Force of Star Wars…”

Photography & Poetry: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

My First Book: A 30 Year Old Tale

My dear reader, you may or may not have existed 30 years ago however, if you were out there, somewhere, breathing under a blanket of sky and clouds that I was not to see you grow in then, it is highly likely that you might have let out an extra loud tummy-trombone giggle in that year. I do beg your pardon if this spontaneous combustion of laughter landed you in a right old pickle and hot mustard, especially for those of you who might have been auditioning for the school play at the time and wherein, alas, you were subsequently chucked out of the door when those lines you had rehearsed late into the night wobbled, contorting into riotous cackles instead and leaving one very mortified director traumatised for life! Or, perhaps you were one of the unfortunate teenagers who were about to ask the popular girl or boy out on your first date but failed tragically because as soon as you had delivered your solemn declaration of love you burst out into fits of demented laughter, saliva and the food segments that had been wedged in your braces for months splattering on their pristine faces! It is also quite possible that that year you were a tiny speck in your mother’s womb, in which case, if an electron microscope had peered into your nano-scale world, it would have surely picked up you blissfully twirling in an anomalous high-frequency anti-clockwise spin, a property brought on by the still premature nervous system shuddering with rambunctious laughter as if it had been stroked and tickled with a goose feather!

What exactly happened 30 years ago you ask?! What devious magical murmuring mischievously induced you to undergo a split-second transformation and incidentally spark serious questions about your sanity by those poor souls who might have been in close proximity to you at the time?!

I am so sorry. I am to blame for that little glitch although Destiny tells me to take a chill pill for it was meant to be. Shall I explain? Well, how could I not afford to now that I have started! You see, 30 years ago, a very special man in my life, my Abba (Father) who is no longer here, gifted me my first ever book. My FIRST book, ladies and gentlemen! I admit I have possessed books before this but they were picture books with slices of sentences here and there. This book, given to me at the cusp of the enchanting age of 7, was different. Strung of words only, it was a collection of tales gathered from cultures around the world and it meant that not only would I be encouraged to learn more challenging words but, that, in the absent of images, my Abba had cleverly placed a brilliantly new milestone in front of me: a door to a new land signposted with the chalked letters that spelled ‘imagination’. Words became wings to worlds beyond those accessible by my physical body. I felt like the greatest treasure ever had stepped into my soul.

I remember walking down the hill with Abba after school and he pulled the book out of his coat. I gleamed an instant smile even though I had never held a ‘thick book’ until then and I knew in the deepest recesses of my gut that a unbreakable bond was about to be forged. History was about to be born. My Hi-Story! I dearly wish you were here with me now so that I could hand the book over to you and watch your face change in as many shades as there are seasons, for my first book brims with dawns made of nostalgia: the tattered antiquated brown pages, a spine that is about to fall apart in pieces at any minute, the smell exuded that is the accumulation of moments it has spent watching me grow up, and, finally, my first nervous attempts at joined-up writing can be found on the first and last page. Handwritten here is my address and an innocently placed request that whomsoever should discover the book should kindly return it to me. You will be even more endeared to learn that there is a message notifying that a reward of the vertiginous sum of 20 pence will be paid up handsomely to any person who successfully returned the book to me in one piece!

So you can appreciate, dear reader, ‘More Stories For Seven-Year-Olds’ is a very special book indeed. A book of the heart which even to this day, 30 odd years on, when its pages are flicked against my nose a plethora of memories like colourful circus acts soar out from its centre and embrace me in a warm protective hug. It is the lingering presence of the dream of a man who wished his daughter to be a storyteller of her own someday. I precariously took out the book today from my overstocked bookshelf but Peter Rabbit filched it whilst I was not looking and soon began posing with it in my garden – a cheeky photograph is enclosed below!

 

My First Book

“A book of the heart which even to this day, 30 odd years on, when its pages are flicked against my nose a plethora of memories like colourful circus acts soar out from its centre and embrace me in a warm protective hug. It is the lingering presence of the dream of a man who wished his daughter to be a storyteller of her own someday…”

 

And so that is why 30 years ago, on that fateful day, you did what you did. You knew I would be telling you this story of mine in the future except, back then you scoffed and laughed in breathless disbelief before returning to your senses. You do not do the same this time. I see a quiet smile as wide as a rainbow, snuggled in a scarf of the chunkiest knit, arcing across your face. I want to say to you that you make me deeply happy because I can feel in my heart how badly you wish that we had met in childhood…

 

 

Photograph & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | My  Garden | UK 2014