Day before yesterday I had a strange dream, but before that, a bit of backdrop. My two sources of income have so far been my website — http://amrithallan.com — and my consulting services to Steve Dasseos (for http://tripinsurancestore.com and other websites). Recently I took a break from amrithallan.com and decided to focus primarily on Steve’s work, and little bit on my own personal projects. But you can very well understand how difficult it is to put a business that you’ve been running and promoting for the past 7 years in cold storage.
Now the dream.
I’m at home, but it is not familiar. A Sikh youth of very small stature comes to me and offers to write content for my clients for a fixed monthly pay of Rs. 15,000. Although he is quite young — mid 20s — his beard is completely white and he is wearing a black turban. I want to pay him Rs. 10,000 but then I think, well, even if I pay him the double of what he is asking for, I may have to work on amrithallan.com for an hour or so everyday and end up saving some money. I accept his offer.
Instead of accessing my website, I leave this youth sitting in the room and go to the backroom where my business is supposed to exist. The room is in shambles. A dim yellow bulb glows in the center of the room. The walls are made of just bricks and there are some holes here and there. It looks like one of those small junk rooms you may find in a house that has been abandoned years ago. There is so much garbage, debry and dust on the floor that it’s extremely difficult to walk. I can see a big centipede trying to enter through one of the crevices and there is a big, brown furry animal in the room. It takes me a while to figure out that it’s a monkey. When it sees me it jumps out through another, bigger hole in the wall.
My computer, one of those old IBMs you had to boot off a floppy (I never even had one of those, but one of my closest friends did) was fixed into the wall in the farthest corner of the room. That’s my business. The dream stops here.