I never used to have dreams.
For as long as I remember I have had sound 7 hours of absolute black blankness. And even when I did see some arbitrary flashes, I would never remember what happened in my dreams. I liked it that way. It never made me question my memory or intellect when someone around would narrate a detailed account of what happened in their own dreams. In fact I would almost cringe for I would catch the impromptu additions and exaggerations they would make to the story.
"Oh please, stop lying, dreams are never so clear and literal. That actually didn't happen in the dream." I'd snap. "And how would you know?" would follow the retort.
Yes, I wouldn't and didn't need to experience it.
"Mr. Jung's works shouldn't go waste. It needs dreamlessers(as opposed to dreamers) like me." I would tell them and myself.
No dreams, no abrupt endings, no cliffhanger "what ifs". Till, till one night I had a dream.
She.
Her papery new born wrinkles
Big eyes but forgiving
Her house where we met. Clean and white. White marble. White linen. White walls.
But she would wear some light color.
Baby pink, peach, lavender.
Her long curls done in a careless bun which would decide to open any time on it's own.
At first it was merely conversations. Chit chat. Small talk- the thing I had no talent for, in the real world. But in my dreams I was, well, charming. Promiscuous even.
I kept seeing her in my dreams every other night and soon there after, every night. Her face was not one I had ever seen. Even her persona and voice were de novo, brand new, fresh. I was pretty sure she was just a figment of my imagination
She and I talked for hours (7 hours of my sleep) sitting at her kitchen counter, white of course.
Bake, cook, drink coffee(she didn't keep tea), make music, paint, take naps. Some days she'd get a baby and we'd take turns in breastfeeding. The baby would be more at home with her. It was more than just the breast size, I guess. I don't think she was the mother but they could have been related. And of course she was older and fuller than me so maybe I didn't secrete any milk then. Even in dreams.
I just never asked her. "So the baby you get sometimes, is it yours?" seemed like a impolite question to ask. I can't deny that I was jealous of her being the more "motherly" one. Stark difference from real world where I am confident of my body and the way I am.
Other days she would get a puppy. I had a one-up on this one since I had a dog in the real world. But she wasn't visibly affected by my forte. Instead she would be excited and amused while I tended to the puppy like a pro. This would make me further agitated. The first time I saw traces of any jealousy was this once. I asked her for newspaper and she got me some white A4 sheets. The one that go in the printer. I put it on the puddle of pee the puppy had just created.
"This won't do, Anna.. We need newspaper, it absorbs better."
"I don't have it, why don't you just wake up and live there and never come back."
She was upset. Very upset. I could see crescenty tears forming in her eyes. I could not help but put my arms around her. We stayed there for almost the whole night and fell asleep. I think I saw my first dream in a dream that night. But I can't remember what it was about.(sic)
When I woke up, Anna was up and beating coffee. She looked at the white pendulum clock, "It's almost six, half an hour before you wake up. I thought we'll have breakfast together. Of course, you will have one when you wake up with this new guy whose house you sleeping in." She blurted.
"Is that a taunt, Anna?"
"No, just that you need to understand how important this is for me. My only breakfast. My only life. I live only when you sleep. I don't have a real world to go and drown this all white into noise." She was screaming now.
The bun of hair open.
"And how many times will I tell you to sleep in your own bed, Roma. You don't sleep properly anywhere else. This bed, this pillow, these aren't yours. Not right."
I tried calming her. No use. I sat on the white stool at the kitchen counter. She walked over and poured coffee in my mug, leaning in, her tresses on my face. I could feel her full, porcelain pale bosom inches from my chin. Unbutton. Blur. While her one hand poured coffee, the other got lost in the insides of my thighs. I looked at the clock- 6:30. "I got to get up" I said in my head. Blur. Weightless vacuum of heavy love. We left our clothes, coffee and confusions out there and moved to the bedroom.
Three hours to Anna. I felt me in ways I didn't know existed and would prolly be illegal in the real world, for anything that feels that good usually is.
When I woke up that morning it was 9, I was late for work. I said a quick goodbye to my new boyfriend who suddenly seemed so pointless and unattractive.
After work, I got back home and left for his house again. I was beginning to like how sleeping elsewhere brought out the worst in Anna. Bitter sweet.
When I got there, he was waiting.
I met Anna that night. And it was magic. Each thing she did was as if timed and measured.
This went on for months. My real life was only a burden I carried around all day to dissolve whole in the night and in Anna. Every Night. We'd cuddle too. She would press her lips against the backs of my knees and form words sometimes. "Roma" "Water" "Dream" "Dewdrops".
And then one night I just didn't see her. It was another dream with my office people and some rude corporate joke. But no sign of Anna. I tried finding her in one of the cabins turned clouds. Nowhere.
And then I went back to being myself. I stopped remembering my dreams. I would try hard after waking up. Jot things down on a sheet of paper. Nothing. Back to black blankness of 7 hours. I became afraid of sleeping. I would not feel myself. Broke up with my boyfriend to be with other women, to see if it were a change in orientation. Still Nothing. I was attracted to a lot of people. Men and Women. But I wasn't me with them the way I'd been with Anna.
I started trying to find her in faces. Some curls were like hers. Some wore Lavender. Some had the same mad eyes while angry. But they weren't Anna.
Months went by.
And years.
I changed jobs, countries and hair styles.
And eventually forgot all about her.
Then one August morning, while I was travelling in the metro back in Delhi. It happened. I was reading the newspaper and casually leaning against the doors not in use. Groggy. The train stopped at Rajiv Chowk station and there she was. In a purple and yellow saari. Same eyes. Same Posture. Same everything.
I walked over to where she was. Since it was crowded, I took the liberty to lean in. Sigh. "It is her! It is really her!" I screamed in my head. Going dizzy with shame and pride. I closed my eyes for a quick visit into the past.
The train stopped at Barakhamba Station. And she got out. I had the urge to de-board with her. But I was late for work again.
I called out, "Anna". She looked back at me.
As the doors closed, she smiled and formed the word "Dream" with her mouth.
For as long as I remember I have had sound 7 hours of absolute black blankness. And even when I did see some arbitrary flashes, I would never remember what happened in my dreams. I liked it that way. It never made me question my memory or intellect when someone around would narrate a detailed account of what happened in their own dreams. In fact I would almost cringe for I would catch the impromptu additions and exaggerations they would make to the story.
"Oh please, stop lying, dreams are never so clear and literal. That actually didn't happen in the dream." I'd snap. "And how would you know?" would follow the retort.
Yes, I wouldn't and didn't need to experience it.
"Mr. Jung's works shouldn't go waste. It needs dreamlessers(as opposed to dreamers) like me." I would tell them and myself.
No dreams, no abrupt endings, no cliffhanger "what ifs". Till, till one night I had a dream.
She.
Her papery new born wrinkles
Big eyes but forgiving
Her house where we met. Clean and white. White marble. White linen. White walls.
But she would wear some light color.
Baby pink, peach, lavender.
Her long curls done in a careless bun which would decide to open any time on it's own.
At first it was merely conversations. Chit chat. Small talk- the thing I had no talent for, in the real world. But in my dreams I was, well, charming. Promiscuous even.
I kept seeing her in my dreams every other night and soon there after, every night. Her face was not one I had ever seen. Even her persona and voice were de novo, brand new, fresh. I was pretty sure she was just a figment of my imagination
She and I talked for hours (7 hours of my sleep) sitting at her kitchen counter, white of course.
Bake, cook, drink coffee(she didn't keep tea), make music, paint, take naps. Some days she'd get a baby and we'd take turns in breastfeeding. The baby would be more at home with her. It was more than just the breast size, I guess. I don't think she was the mother but they could have been related. And of course she was older and fuller than me so maybe I didn't secrete any milk then. Even in dreams.
I just never asked her. "So the baby you get sometimes, is it yours?" seemed like a impolite question to ask. I can't deny that I was jealous of her being the more "motherly" one. Stark difference from real world where I am confident of my body and the way I am.
Other days she would get a puppy. I had a one-up on this one since I had a dog in the real world. But she wasn't visibly affected by my forte. Instead she would be excited and amused while I tended to the puppy like a pro. This would make me further agitated. The first time I saw traces of any jealousy was this once. I asked her for newspaper and she got me some white A4 sheets. The one that go in the printer. I put it on the puddle of pee the puppy had just created.
"This won't do, Anna.. We need newspaper, it absorbs better."
"I don't have it, why don't you just wake up and live there and never come back."
She was upset. Very upset. I could see crescenty tears forming in her eyes. I could not help but put my arms around her. We stayed there for almost the whole night and fell asleep. I think I saw my first dream in a dream that night. But I can't remember what it was about.(sic)
When I woke up, Anna was up and beating coffee. She looked at the white pendulum clock, "It's almost six, half an hour before you wake up. I thought we'll have breakfast together. Of course, you will have one when you wake up with this new guy whose house you sleeping in." She blurted.
"Is that a taunt, Anna?"
"No, just that you need to understand how important this is for me. My only breakfast. My only life. I live only when you sleep. I don't have a real world to go and drown this all white into noise." She was screaming now.
The bun of hair open.
"And how many times will I tell you to sleep in your own bed, Roma. You don't sleep properly anywhere else. This bed, this pillow, these aren't yours. Not right."
I tried calming her. No use. I sat on the white stool at the kitchen counter. She walked over and poured coffee in my mug, leaning in, her tresses on my face. I could feel her full, porcelain pale bosom inches from my chin. Unbutton. Blur. While her one hand poured coffee, the other got lost in the insides of my thighs. I looked at the clock- 6:30. "I got to get up" I said in my head. Blur. Weightless vacuum of heavy love. We left our clothes, coffee and confusions out there and moved to the bedroom.
Three hours to Anna. I felt me in ways I didn't know existed and would prolly be illegal in the real world, for anything that feels that good usually is.
When I woke up that morning it was 9, I was late for work. I said a quick goodbye to my new boyfriend who suddenly seemed so pointless and unattractive.
After work, I got back home and left for his house again. I was beginning to like how sleeping elsewhere brought out the worst in Anna. Bitter sweet.
When I got there, he was waiting.
But I was waiting for night to fall upon me. I actually wanted to skip this part. This pretend world. I had this urge to slip sleeping pills in his food. I didn't have any.
And he was waiting for more. We had coitus. Bland, more than ever. It was really good for him. But my heightened expectations could only be satiated in dreams perhaps.
I met Anna that night. And it was magic. Each thing she did was as if timed and measured.
This went on for months. My real life was only a burden I carried around all day to dissolve whole in the night and in Anna. Every Night. We'd cuddle too. She would press her lips against the backs of my knees and form words sometimes. "Roma" "Water" "Dream" "Dewdrops".
And then one night I just didn't see her. It was another dream with my office people and some rude corporate joke. But no sign of Anna. I tried finding her in one of the cabins turned clouds. Nowhere.
And then I went back to being myself. I stopped remembering my dreams. I would try hard after waking up. Jot things down on a sheet of paper. Nothing. Back to black blankness of 7 hours. I became afraid of sleeping. I would not feel myself. Broke up with my boyfriend to be with other women, to see if it were a change in orientation. Still Nothing. I was attracted to a lot of people. Men and Women. But I wasn't me with them the way I'd been with Anna.
I started trying to find her in faces. Some curls were like hers. Some wore Lavender. Some had the same mad eyes while angry. But they weren't Anna.
Months went by.
And years.
I changed jobs, countries and hair styles.
And eventually forgot all about her.
Then one August morning, while I was travelling in the metro back in Delhi. It happened. I was reading the newspaper and casually leaning against the doors not in use. Groggy. The train stopped at Rajiv Chowk station and there she was. In a purple and yellow saari. Same eyes. Same Posture. Same everything.
I walked over to where she was. Since it was crowded, I took the liberty to lean in. Sigh. "It is her! It is really her!" I screamed in my head. Going dizzy with shame and pride. I closed my eyes for a quick visit into the past.
The train stopped at Barakhamba Station. And she got out. I had the urge to de-board with her. But I was late for work again.
I called out, "Anna". She looked back at me.
As the doors closed, she smiled and formed the word "Dream" with her mouth.
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