That second seemed to land at the apt fixture. A fixture,
that was slyly pre-mapped, and shoved into my life. BULL’s EYE! The second
landed… And I open my eyes... There were butterflies everywhere. And there was
this alpha mind of mine, gazing at them nonchalantly, like the whole world
comprised of nothing but them. Everything that had felt preposterous just
microseconds before the second burst in, achieved clarity.
How can anyone open their eyes to a dream? I did.
Every mirror I looked at, screamed the word “impeccable” out
aloud. It wasn't the mirror. I am no Snow White. It was my alpha mind bellowing
precariously in my head. YES, flattery is purportless always. But, add a “self”
to anything; it gives out red warning signals, marking the onset of devastating
failures. The feather headed goddess residing within me, better known as “Unsatisfaction”.. She just laughed ruthlessly
at my random thoughts, tearing down every piece of confidence I carried within
myself. Can’t say whether confidence is the right word. It was something
different. Audacity of a certain kind, I should say; which made me shut down
the outlets I used to turn to, for comfort. How reckless it made me. After
being the rebellious queen of detachment, I chose to turn into a mere fool. I
cradled a monster. End of story. That one thought swept the others away.
It was time to wake up. I closed my eyes, and woke up. Light
came gliding in through the tidbits of the stains in the glass window of the
confinement I had chosen to thrive in; ‘room’, the others call it. The butterflies
still fluttered at the back of my head. I wiped off the tiny beads of perspiration, loftily perched at my forehead. Chennai felt like Egypt at that moment. It was
excessively hot and bright, for a Sunday morning. Mind flashes. Cleopatra, her
pomegranate juice lipstick, my hair gracefully cascading down my shoulders, the
placid rustle of leaves.. the winds seemed guilty of waking me up. I liked
that.
As soon as I was fully conscious, the butterflies vanished. They
had stayed longer in my dream. I was just cooing my little monster in the dream. In
reality, I let it breastfeed, suck at my happiness with entire consent. That’s when
I realized. Dreams are longer and realities are shorter. Dreams are beautiful
and realities, they are harsh. They are as far away from one another as all
the zeroes and infinities that ever existed. Yet, it’s the realities that are
expected to be substantially impactful, not the dreams.
At that moment, I stopped scrutinizing. I pulled the
blankets over myself and woke up to another dream.
