Dreams Series - 1
I LOVE dancing and tango is such a refined experience. Fine people looking oh so fine swiveling to subtle melodies is charming, relaxing and leaves a sweet buzz. You see beautiful, you hear mellifluous, touch warmth and you inhale human and the body integrates these sensations into soulful rhythms. There is more life in each second on the dance floor than say, in the lab. With these sensations, and the cigar after, I went to bed. And a very vivid dream blanketed my being.
It was a strange dream. I was in a room by myself. It was a sparsely furnished hall. It was definitely homely and comfy by me. The sun shone softly through what looked like lacy curtains. Someone came in to get the place ready for my stay, and left. He gave me a sense that it was a temple's accommodation. Made sense, the place looked pious, and yet scarcely spartan. A beautiful bird, the more elegant than I have ever cared to imagine appeared walking around the room. It looked like an artists impression of a hoopoe's, parakeet's and a delicate woodpecker's offspring. It just kept walking around, like it was looking for something. I offered it my finger to perch on and we became as comfortable with each other as our skin and feathers. I played with it for what felt like all the way unto evening. And then I fed it something and then it started walking around looking for more food again and then that's all that it did.
While I was watching this Hoo-para-pecker busybody around, a girl walks in, in what could only have been the plainest, softest most comfortable white cotton T shirt ever made. It didn't glisten like a new shirt, it just looked ever-fresh. The shorts were good, but a non descript shade of cream. I knew this person. Someone whose company I enjoyed cautiously and looked forward to, but not overtly. Seamlessly, the evening, without a night, turned into morning again. And then we just sat or lay, close together or across the room (not necessarily respectively) in that fresh spring morning. I have no idea from where or when spring slipped in. There was some talk, maybe and the silence was comfortable. It was strangely like being with me with a different appearence and personality and SO much more appeal. That can't qualify as me, but still.
Hooparapecker came around from time to time, and its silence became a part of the company. It pecked on my fingers now and then. It didn't pain, I just felt the pecks. Somehow, its being there was reassuring. I'm not sure reassuring for what though.
And as suddenly as the times had been nice, it was time to go. And I was on the road until my car broke down. I then realized I was in Pakistan. A roadside mechanic was helping me out. It was just like India, only the men were in Pathaan suits. And then...
Cars in the street racing to take people to work woke me up. And the dream ended. Its probably not worth this much deliberation. It had no plot, it wasn't juicy, it had no punchline. But its a dream I want to share. Maybe just because it gives me something to write about. :)
It was a strange dream. I was in a room by myself. It was a sparsely furnished hall. It was definitely homely and comfy by me. The sun shone softly through what looked like lacy curtains. Someone came in to get the place ready for my stay, and left. He gave me a sense that it was a temple's accommodation. Made sense, the place looked pious, and yet scarcely spartan. A beautiful bird, the more elegant than I have ever cared to imagine appeared walking around the room. It looked like an artists impression of a hoopoe's, parakeet's and a delicate woodpecker's offspring. It just kept walking around, like it was looking for something. I offered it my finger to perch on and we became as comfortable with each other as our skin and feathers. I played with it for what felt like all the way unto evening. And then I fed it something and then it started walking around looking for more food again and then that's all that it did.
While I was watching this Hoo-para-pecker busybody around, a girl walks in, in what could only have been the plainest, softest most comfortable white cotton T shirt ever made. It didn't glisten like a new shirt, it just looked ever-fresh. The shorts were good, but a non descript shade of cream. I knew this person. Someone whose company I enjoyed cautiously and looked forward to, but not overtly. Seamlessly, the evening, without a night, turned into morning again. And then we just sat or lay, close together or across the room (not necessarily respectively) in that fresh spring morning. I have no idea from where or when spring slipped in. There was some talk, maybe and the silence was comfortable. It was strangely like being with me with a different appearence and personality and SO much more appeal. That can't qualify as me, but still.
Hooparapecker came around from time to time, and its silence became a part of the company. It pecked on my fingers now and then. It didn't pain, I just felt the pecks. Somehow, its being there was reassuring. I'm not sure reassuring for what though.
And as suddenly as the times had been nice, it was time to go. And I was on the road until my car broke down. I then realized I was in Pakistan. A roadside mechanic was helping me out. It was just like India, only the men were in Pathaan suits. And then...
Cars in the street racing to take people to work woke me up. And the dream ended. Its probably not worth this much deliberation. It had no plot, it wasn't juicy, it had no punchline. But its a dream I want to share. Maybe just because it gives me something to write about. :)
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