Tag: dream

The blissful abyss Pt. 1

I am in a conundrum. With hair and limbs floating in the sea of nothingness. There is no apothecary to alleviate the feeling of not having you in the present moment, no materia medica to sooth the nostalgia. No potion to undo the scar.

It is true that you can have the clearest picture by considering all sides of the story. This is mine and a long one. So I can finish my moment and you can hear it out. Then you may respond. This is one such thought that crosses my mind.

You are but a shadow, an idea of a beautiful reality, the perfect world. I would like to think it is a possibility. As I sink into this abyss under the dark void with my limbs and hair floating, as I look up into the nothingness, it is calm. I can only sink further from hereon, into an endless loop of these thoughts.

My mind will try to process this feeling for aeons in this plane of existence. Only I exist in this space as only I understand and observe. An imprint of your silhouette, an idea of a girl from a novel, a girl from a reel, an idea of a mountain girl. Is it the idea that has besotted me? Are you just that, a silhouette but not a manifestation of it? This is one more such thought that crosses my mind.

I am on an island. Our friends are all here surrounding us. We are celebrating as you wear the white flower I picked for you from the bouquet. There is that perfect place, the perfect home, the perfect image of my life. I am happy. This is another such thought that crosses my mind.

As I continue to sink in, I feel better to let it out.

dreams not without evidence

Without a shadow of a doubt I have blocked feelings for you. This feeling is piling up and a communication block is not helping. I thought it best to let it flow out in a linear fashion from the very beginning to how it has been unfolding in the present through these events that took, without my consent and if I may add without my control, in dreams influenced by real life incidences.

#1 A last night’s kiss

Scene 1

It has been quite a long time in this lucid place and time seems to have become lenient on me for it feels like a limbo and nothing moves ever so fast as in real life. For this eternity that is a dream, it feels nice. It feels great because I am the protagonist, the hero of my movie. Every character dreaming in their own little world is.

Somehow my consciousness has picked up fragments from a movie that didn’t fare well at the box office. I am with this girl. In a limo. Holding champagne glasses, one each. The very first time I dreamt of her, unwillingly. As I write, the thought poses itself to me in a frozen shot: “Or did I? By Choice? By my own will and desire gather enough deep rooted feelings from some forgotten past that I could?”

Anyway moving on, she kisses me or rather we’re somehow drawn to kiss and it wasn’t planned nor did we intend to but our closeness makes us too comfortable to not share one kiss that this dry land of a spirit could do with. I rejoice and am forever grateful for that brief moment, frozen in eternity as I recall it tonight, writing this down, as if it were only a last night’s dream.

My heart pumps and I forget there is any trouble in paradise or in my life for it doesn’t matter in comparison to what conspires in this eternal land. Fair skinned, almost milky, hair flowing down, somewhat covering the sides of her face, black-hazel eyed beauty. Her nimble soft hands, quick to criticize someone, her thin lips pursed, sealing behind them thoughts analyzing a million things I couldn’t care less about, if only for this moment, as I get drawn towards her moon like face.

I study her face as she studies mine. I remember the dress. She wears black one piece and I only see the silhouette of her attire. But I see her shoulder, her neckline exposed as if calling someone to plant some love, beautiful black hair shining and blending with her dress as she bends sideways on the cushioned hide seat at the back, towards me. I wear a casual dinner jacket, black formals, buttoned not too closely up my neck as I embrace her kiss closing my eyes as does she.

Scene 2

Before anything, I see her out of the limo. The left door is open. I sit on the right. But I see what is happening outside. It’s her old lover or someone who made out with her once and left her, pointing a revolver at her. It’s black, very typical for a revolver.

I see her standing before him. She is in pain and gasps. Her short lived gasp as if calling me out or something that she so sweetly shared with someone. I hear a single gunshot and it flashes white before me.


Sometime in the morning I wake up and remember the kiss.

For the time being, real life seems much safer for her.


#2 The Black Silhouette from last night

I see her last night but I cannot write your name. It will send a string of heartbeats escalating to yet another breathless night followed by a dream. Alright, perhaps I over imagined but there you are; a red cloth slings by your side, hair open, that cheery graceful smile and I thought this would simmer my feelings or help me get it off my chest.

Every time I see you, it is nevertheless the same feeling. So, to last night’s dream on the double:

Scene 1

I see two elderly gentlemen, both of whom I am familiar with since a young age, both good hearted spirits. Both have a mustache and wear glasses. There are others around, insignificant fillers in the dream, as usual. We are all in a house at night probably for a dinner at someone’s place.

Scene 2

She is in her two piece black gown, plain and silky, just like her fair milky skin. She sits on a staircase made of granite stone. I remember this because I’ve gotten wickedly used to growing up over these.  She is probably chatting with some insignificant fillers, as usual.

Scene 3

I am outside the house, in my supposedly black car, on a reverse looking through the back window pane driving away from the house, through a narrow lane with houses on either side, without a road or pavement so it must be a place my subconscious reconstructed from one of my childhood memories.

And surprisingly she sits next to the driver’s seat in her black dress under a dark night. I only hear the sound of the engine as I roll my car back somewhere to park it safely and not be an obstruction in this narrow lane as she bends and puts her face on my left shoulder. She wraps her hands around me, tilting her face over my back and saying some sweet nothings.


Funny, I wishes to dream of her this time. Like the time before it. But not the the very first time when it happened almost 2 years back.


Now the question is, what is happening to me if it is happening occasionally. I ponder if it is a love thing or just someone I fancy too much or too much attraction.

Then I look at her face. I could spend all night driving her around and keep staring at her. Did I mention, one of the elderly gentlemen is her father?

my personal diary

“I am grateful to the world and its people, for if it hadn’t been so as it has been, a series of waves, turbulences, undercurrents of anger, betrayal and the feeling of being pushed; if it hadn’t been for poking me, hurting me, challenging me, I wouldn’t have been toppled from my ever slumbering fairy-tale of a quiet and relatively prolonged childhood and dragged into a relatively mature and pragmatic world that would pierce me like thorns, undesired yet no way out, until it enraged me so much so as to scream loud enough with affirmation to build a body of steel, focus on one dream, that one achievement that will accomplish everything that comes in my life. This is my mission. And I am a missionary. I salivate in hunger to achieve my goals. It is a slap back at whatever it is that played around with me.

Was it my fate unfolding.

Whom am I slapping back?


What deeds unfolded that dragged me into this?

I need to clear my head, resolve these issues. A child in me is hurt. I am doing whatever I am to empower this child so no one can hurt him, topple him ever again. It sounds revengeful but I hurt no one. I keep everything to myself and probably hurt myself further. Is it time to release? Is it time yet to show off? Is it time I show to the world that this child has grown up? You cannot toy with him anymore. He is secure. He is ever-growing. He has that power that shields him from any blow? He doesn’t want to cry. He wants his peace back. He wants his childhood back. He wants the good things in life back. Simple little good things is all his life is about.

He wants to prove that he can and go back to where he was. Ever happy and playing in his world. That’s all he wants. And a happy world.”