My dream-catcher: He had led a life more ordinary, until very recently he could not understand the dynamics of circumstances and his choices. He lived, infact continues to believe that something out there has a fair distribution system.

That after many years Maye did not really know him, still did not understand what gave rise to this: caught between the real and the fake, the animal and the human. Each time Maye would start afresh. She forced her mind to give up the past, to forget memories and begin the puzzle again. It was not love, nothing remotely close, just a sense of one's own ignorance, perhaps a sense of how far off the mark one could be.

Sometimes the dream-catcher did things that surprised, sometimes he was painfully predictable-and the latest was that her dream-catcher had caught onto another dream.

Without having gone out even once on a date, he had asked Sophie to marry him.

Sophie refused immediately, looking at him incredulously, she was not even polite enough to say that she would think about it. Her certainty almost killed him.

Maye heard of this several months later, from someone who had managed to awe her for a while.

And so after listening to this Maye began once again, afresh, to understand this dream-catcher whose soul had probably been broken many times and now all he had was a shoddily mended but alive and wanting heart.

Maye wondered about the life of her dream-catcher.

She had met the dream catcher in the winter of 2007, up north in Denmark. She knew he came from the same community so she had expectations, she was going to be more critical and slicing than anyone else. She was and she named him her dream-catcher.

He was humble in his appearance, sometimes he would walk ahead of the crowd, rapidly, as if he knew exactly where he had to go, on other days, mostly he would follow, and when Maye turned around to look, he appeared to never care of his surroundings. Sophie had joined Maye for a while on their trip to Barcelona, she was shy and sensitive. And my dream-catcher's dream.

.....And so the dream-catcher lay all alone, in the dead of the night, against the splashing waves of a dirty beach, he could smell the rubbish, the garbage, he could hear that chicken-head peeing in oblivion, whistling tunelessly, he could still hear the cars, the honking, the screaming, and he is suddenly caught, as Nietzsche was forever looking, in a single moment of "paralyzed fascination"-he yells "my soul seems to age faster than me. As my dreams run ahead and I lie awake trying to catch up with them. Sometimes I tire fast and am lulled into sleep that seems like eternity. Being grounded and holding on to reality becomes difficult until I hear about the tragedy of a close one. The tragedy of Maye, Sophie, Abba Haider, Mehjabine Bano and me and me."

The moment had come and gone, and in every rush, in thousands of stories, lives of others, the dream-catcher recognized that he had never heard silence, he had never felt it until only now.

Sophie was there, young, beautiful and like every other pretty thing. She did not speak too much and she was so loving. I was amused, surprised, jealous, superior all at once.

The lives of the above characters will meet and separate and meet as the Naughty Monkey and the Slow Walrus tell the tales.