The thunder woke me up. A long roll of loud rumblings. The light was starting to come through the curtains. I heard the rain.
Oh well, I am in a dream. Wait. What was the dream? Sleep hasn’t left me yet. I drift in and out. My eyes stay shut but my mind has woken up. Like a giant machinery slowly warming up to action, the mind searches for bearings. Groggy and full of sleep, yet it overrides the sleep mode to start the body.
I hold on to the remnants of my dream. Like a traveller who has arrived in a big train station, I frantically look for the right platform. Then the right train, running around to locate my compartment. Yet, there is a sense of defeat. The fear that the right train is somewhere else or has long departed. The mind is trying to get back on the train. A few moments ago, I was there, inside, living it. Now, it is slowly evaporating.
I can feel and see snatches of colour. Lots of ladies going or arriving? They seem to be excited. A special occasion. Everyone has gathered in new clothes. Maybe it was a social gathering. Was someone getting married or engaged? Because there are images of jewellery, bright earrings, shiny bracelets. I can hear familiar voices but I haven’t seen these people in years.
Where am I in the dream? I am busy but I’ve come to the watch the guests arrive. Things have to be done. They know me. I wish some of the ladies. I can sense someone standing close, whispering something urgent. Arrangements for the guests. I think we were the hosts.
I seem to be younger. I feel that. A young man, home from college for my vacations. Quite unsure about social norms but caught in the flow of revelry. I don’t recognize most of the people. Everyone is talking at the same time and I just can’t remember what they are saying. The mind has muted the conversation.
It’s going away. The images are disappearing. The morning is taking over. Birds, early birds, chirping for the worms. The rains sound so good. Monsoons and the greenery abound. I take a peek, open a curtain and the view is calming. A steady drizzle and a cool, cool breeze. I reach out lazily, stretch and switch off the fan. It feels even quieter.
Wait. I don’t want to wake up yet. There is someone talking. She is telling me something. We are alone. We seem to have left the crowd behind. She is unsure but the sparkle in her eyes are true. Is it for me? I am still unsure. A dream has no signboards.
She has dressed up for the occasion and look very conscious about it. We seem to be meeting after a gap. I laugh and tease her. Who is she? Why her? The dream has no names, the audio is still muted. We seem to be of the same age. Our conversation is familiar bordering on the intimate.
She pretends to leave. I catch her hand. She has taken care to look her best today. I feel I am not dressed, I have loads of things to do before I get ready. Then I don’t care. The world outside has faded. Everyone is caught up in the gaiety. We are together. That is all that matters.
Her dress is something light in colour with a hint of blue. I’m sure she has borrowed the jewellery but it make her look older, gorgeous. It’s a traditional outfit. I feel unsure. I am still not dressed. I’ve put on something white. Both of are standing under the skylight. The rays of light give her an ethereal look. I laugh and tease her. She gives me a mock look of hurt.
She must have taken care to put on the makeup. I can’t remember her so formally attired. It gives her an aura. I am captivated and feel like a commoner before a princess. She laughs and says something very funny.
It’s a moment to live for. An eternity in time. When the world is lost in revelry, we have snatched time to love. It’s love. Something new, something pure. I feel I am floating in air. There must have been a ring to her laughter like tiny bells- the damn audio is muted but I can hear the bells, tinkling, teasing.
Pale blue. The colour of sky on a summer day. That’s the only detail I am sure about. She was a summer spirit- laughing, dancing, teasing and mocking. Making me fall in love all over again. My heart must have skipped a beat or two.
Maybe we used to meet elsewhere. In cafes and walks. Today, it’s under the same roof. Not the main actors but like the lovelorn couple in a play who used to meet backstage. And now the stage is theirs, the sun is theirs, and every beat in their hearts beat only for each other.
But then my dream is letting go, I can no longer see her face. It becomes a blur. I’ve lost her eyes. Damn the thunder.
Morning takes over. My dream is slowly but surely fading. I don’t want to open my eyes. It’s the weekend. I want to sleep more. What was happening in the strange house?
Alas, who was she? Such an elusive dream. The birds are in full throttle. Perhaps they too are talking about the strange birds in their dreams. The rain falls steadily.
‘To die, to sleep – to sleep – perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause.’
(Hamlet, Hamlet)
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