Dream

It was a misty morning and the thick cover of fog had smoothened down all the warm rays of a rising sun. The re roses in my garden were showing me their own lovely charm as someone opened the gates and walked in. I tried to peep through the curtains of snow that stood between me and the gate, to make out my guest.

At a distance I felt that some one with a white blanket on, was walking in. was there a red rose held out in the hand?, or was it just an art work on the blanket? As ii got closer I made it out as a girl, clad in white dress and the redness of the rose had turned out to be her lips. Anxiety made me take a few steps to reach just in front of her. As I searched my memory, she asked, “You forgot me?, so fast!!”, with an element of complaint in her voice.

This… this… Suddenly it came to me. How did I take so long to make her out? At a time this face was the apple of my eyes. Then I wanted her, so desperately, to pay me a visit. And then, this was the face I looked for in every face I saw! Now she’s here; looking at me, at a breaths distance!

But I was afraid! Afraid to look back, for the fear of losing all that I have won over my lost memories.. So I just kept my eyes on to the roses as if I got something lost in them….

“You didn’t like me here?” she asked. I had no answer. She sighed at my silence and continued, “Even if it is so and even if I wish to go back from here, I can’t do that... I hope you know why……”

Why? Because… cos this was my world; my dream world! A face that I had removed from my mind with the greatest of efforts had caught me up again, in my own dream! But her presence still had that magical sheen, making me a happier soul. Deep inside, in some corner of my mind she had survived all my efforts to throw her out; somewhere, from where I couldn’t or didn’t remove her! That thought brought a smile on to me and I looked at her radiant face genuinely praying, "If ever, this was not a dream….”

But it was not to be real anyway. That thought brought me back to face the reality. This dream is sweet now, but on waking into the other world, this is a pain: a throbbing pain that will make all those wounds I had nursed and time had healed to bleed open yet again to hurt me deeper. I became aware of the facts and searched for a soft but firm voice. But my older self invaded into my words with a shiver of compassion as I uttered, “You must go, and never ever come again!”

The innocence in those wide eyes was drenched with tears and she stooped as if to hide them a bit and then looked at me. The look on her face was pathetic and made my heart let out a weep. It was the most beautiful face I ever saw, it was the shine in those eyes that had led me through the darkness’s that surrounded me. Now all that full of visible grief, due to me…. Oh!

But once I wake… The one whom I feel the salt of the earth for me now, may then prove to be just the opposite to the extreme. I couldn’t let that happen, not even in the wildest of my dreams. As I thought and kept looking into her lustrous eyes, I feared of losing myself. I had to tell her off, some how...

“Get away from me!” I yelled and shoved her away in frenzy. That careless shoving pushed her down to the sand. I got a bit more tensed and took a step back to watch her better.

Slowly she stood up, with a cut on her fore head, bleeding. She turned on her full bloomed eyes on to me and smiled; a smile coloured with blood and fragranced with tears! Feeling the pain of my heart breaking like a coloured glass under a roller, I turned back and walked away with tears in eyes and legs at a faster pace….

Eyes and cheeks were all feeling wet and that made me wake into this world. Did I cry out in the end of that dream, without even my knowledge? I slowly got up and switched on the lamp. My head was feeling a bit heavy. I thought the dizziness was a hang over of the dream. Then I thought of mirror, for always I think of looking into a mirror in my dreams, butt has never done so… With a yawn I walked up to the mirror.

One glance of me in the mirror, I was shocked! There was a bleeding cut on my temple and that has coloured me up to my cheeks. On looking back to the bed, I found my alarm clock, broken. It made sense to me on how I could have shoved it down from the shelf just above the bed. Blood had painted a few red roses on my white pillow to remind me of those red lips and their owner; though I didn’t like to remember and had forgotten all of it….