Early Morning Dream

It was the quiet stillness of dawn, a little past 4:00 a.m., when I rose to feed Norzang. Once he drifted back into peaceful sleep, I slipped into my thoughts and composed a response to a job interview questionnaire. The clock neared 6:00. With another hour to spare before the rhythm of the day returned, I let myself sink back into bed, unaware that I was about to wander into a dream stitched with memory, regret, and longing.

In this dream, the world wore a dim hue, like a painting left in the rain. I found myself reliving the time after I had resigned from the civil service—three years ago now. I’m the scene, I was working at a private company, eyes always glancing toward another job I had applied for, hoping for something more stable. But as I teetered between opportunities, our family finances grew thin, and so did my confidence.

I carried a quiet weight—one that whispered I may have stepped off a more secure path. Norzang was older in the dream, and the faces and places I once knew had shifted with time. My new workplace was close to RIM, and with each passing day, I was haunted by the fear of being recognized—of old friends seeing me and wondering what went wrong. A sense of shame gnawed at me gently but persistently. I began hatching silent plans to migrate abroad, chasing the idea of a better income, but the road was misty, the destination unclear.

Amid these swirling thoughts, my wife’s voice echoed—reminders of choices I had made, words laced with love but firm with truth.

Then, the dream carried me to Pachirong—a serene stream flowing between Bumpa Log and Joenkhar. I was there with Pema Khandu, his brother Sonam, and Pem Drakpa. We crossed the stream together and approached a strange structure—like a house with its gate closed, compelling us to climb through the attic to enter.

As Sonam attempted to jump down, I handed him a rope to guide his descent. But before he touched the ground, he lost consciousness. In a rush, I called out for Pema Khandu to help, but then suddenly he collapsed—his body limp, blood at his mouth. A chill swept through us. Panic painted every face. And just before I could understand what had happened, I awoke—heart pounding, dawn light seeping in. 

With that, I rose from bed and began preparing to head to work.
This was written shortly after the dream, at 7:05 a.m. on April 30, 2025.

First appointment with my Family doctor

The morning of April 26th, 2025, began with a quiet urgency. I woke early to prepare Norzang for his post-UTI checkup at Terra Nova Clinic — a small but important milestone after days of worry. His appointment was at 8:30 AM, and we moved quickly, feeding him and catching an Uber under the soft light of dawn.

At the clinic, the receptionist greeted us with a smile that offered a brief moment of calm. Not long after, our nurse — warm and attentive — called us in. She examined Norzang thoroughly, her hands gentle yet precise. When she finally looked up and assured us that he was cleared of any post-infection concerns and was in good health, I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

Still, there was a lingering thread of uncertainty: some of the blood tests taken earlier at the Richmond Hospital had not produced results. Whether it was a simple oversight or something else, no one could say for sure. To be cautious, we were asked to return and redo the blood samples — tests crucial to rule out the faint possibility of genetic jaundice.

Later that afternoon, I returned to the clinic once more — this time for myself. It was my first appointment with the same nurse, having officially registered under her care along with my wife. Sitting across from her, recounting my medical history, felt oddly vulnerable yet necessary. After listening carefully, she offered thoughtful advice on my struggles with constipation and persistent headaches. She suspected migraines but urged me to undergo blood work to search for deeper causes — tests that I would take alongside my son on Monday morning.

Understanding the inevitable delay this would cause, I informed my boss, preparing for a late start. It felt fitting somehow — this shared moment between father and son, both stepping into the quiet, sterile halls of Richmond Hospital, each in search of answers, each carrying a better hope for healthily life.

Art, Love, and the Story of Us

Since childhood, art has been my quiet companion—a place where I could dream freely and express emotions words could never quite capture. Doodling, sketching, painting—it’s always been more than a hobby. It’s been a part of who I am.

I’ve long dreamed of learning the sacred principles of traditional painting, especially the kind rooted in culture and symbolism. Though formal training never came my way, that didn’t stop me. I’ve kept learning, one brushstroke at a time, this time digitally, inspired by the diverse forms of art I’ve encountered over the years.

When our son was born, I felt a deep urge to immortalize this new chapter of life—something meaningful for both me and my wife. So, I picked up my pen and iPad with a purpose. Slowly, through late nights and quiet thoughts, an idea bloomed into form. And now, the digital painting is complete.

Though far from perfect, it holds everything that matters—my emotions, my gratitude, my love.

At the heart of the piece stands the Vajra, a symbol of masculinity in Buddhism—indestructible, powerful, unshakable. It represents our son, Kunga Norzang, whose presence already echoes a quiet strength. He is rare, radiant, and resilient—just like the Vajra.

Wrapping around the Vajra are delicate flowers, representing my wife—my partner, my muse. Their soft curves and graceful bloom speak of her love, beauty, and the effortless grace with which she embraces motherhood. Each flower reaching out in different directions symbolizes the many roles she plays in shaping our son’s world.

This painting is a tribute to them both—a mother and son duo, forever etched in my heart.
May the flower forever bloom with beauty,
And may the Vajra rise with strength to carve his path in this vast, unfolding world.

With love,
Written at 12:32 a.m. on April 21st, 2025, while lying beside the two souls who inspired it all.