Actually I had planned to do the next round of character sketches as promised to someone who was really desperate to see his mug over here. But in keeping with my current mood of flying off on a tangent every now and then, I will proceed to give you all a glimpse into the dark recesses of my mind – my dreams.
I have read somewhere that your dreams are that part of you which are truly you – unmodified by your surroundings, upbringing, values etc. If that holds true, I must be Darkness personified, judging by what goes on in my mind while the body seeks its daily quota of regeneration.
While there are countless dreams of mine, which if visualised on film, would not pass the scissors of even the most lenient censor board, over here I will stick to something which is not so gruesome, but nevertheless mysterious/interesting, depending on the way you look at it. Depending on feedback, more will follow. So, here we enter the dark side:
The scenario seen in the dream is somewhere about 4-5 years in the future; wherein I am living on the top floor of a multi-storey building with huge glass walls through which I can catch the sights and sounds of the city flowing below. (Something like Aamir Khan’s Sydney residence in Dil Chahta Hai; only with all walls of glass). One night, past midnight, I am watching the city skyline, trying to gather some sleep, albeit unsuccessfully, when suddenly there is a knock on the door. I am under the influence of incomplete sleep and ignore the sound. After what seems like ages, the knocking starts again. This time, it has an almost hypnotic rhythm to it. I am terrified but something pulls me towards the door. On opening the door, I find nobody outside. This scares me even more. I close the door, come inside and am about to settle my chair when the rhythm starts again. This time, I am terrified beyond reason and almost run towards the door in a fit of blind fury. Again, there’s no one outside but this time I find a straw basket lying outside my door, covered with a dirty little piece of rag. On removing the rag, I find a newborn baby inside the basket – blood on its body and the umbilical cord ominously dangling. Its face is contorted as if it were crying but no sound can be heard. Beside the baby is placed a piece of paper and a cell-phone. I pick up the phone and dial the number written on the paper. At first, nobody responds. I try again, when a deep baritone echoes at the other end. I explain the situation to him and ask what the hell is going on. All he says is “You don’t always get what you want; sometimes you have to be happy with what you get”. Saying so, he disconnects the line. Further attempts from my side to get in touch with him prove futile. I am left with the baby, whom I then pick up in my arms. As soon as I pick it up, it touches my face and lets out the most blood-curdling scream I ever heard (in a dream or otherwise). Surprisingly, instead of being terrified by the turn of events, tears start flowing from eyes and I start sobbing. This is where the dream ends, leaving me wide awake and drenched with sweat, no matter in what season this occurs and even if I am sleeping right under the fan.
Also what I have observed is that whenever this dream occurs, my life takes a significant turn in some manner or the other. It was there when I fell in love, when I decided to give up on it and also when I experienced my first academic failure. So, in a way it’s a harbinger of change for me.
It’s been a really long post till now. I just hope that you have not fallen asleep and are not watching dreams of your own 😉
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Sameer says... 