Thursday, 15 January 2015

Fifteenth

In the dream i was again shuttling a lot between Kozhikode and Kochi. As is what happens usually, started talking to the man at the ticket counter. We talked more and more. Once while discussing Dan Brown's the Da Vinci Code, i saw a familiar glint in his eyes and a curling of his smile. It was so familiar that even intricate details of the 'there-she-goes-again love story' that would follow unfurled before me in my mind's eye. Scared, i was. The tone of the dream changed in an instant. The railway station was now trapping me. It felt as if the rails were crawling up my back and clutching my throat with inexplicable strength.

Then i was at his place in Kakkanad. A young man, probably my cameraperson and a girl i knew and had nothing to do with from highschool were there. It was a sleepover. I was scared again. There were calls. On the other end of the phone was a voice. The voice didn't want me to die. 'I won't die', i said. I had to run.
There was a pond. I was shooting. I took pebbles and held it in my palm. I was losing it, said the coldness resting on my palm. I looked at him. He looked sad. Puzzled. Knotted eyebrows, tense heart. I wanted to kiss him. Didn't know how to. I had to run.

The highschool girl's dad was there to pick her. My cameraperson was nowhere to be seen. I had to make it to the station and i shouldn't die. Big responsibility. But i had the voice, i had the voice, i thought. I ran, with all the air that was left in my lungs, not turning back to look at him. He had to disappear so that i could live. Damn! He would be at the counter in the station. I panicked.

I got on the train without a ticket. It would be night when i reached home. 'I won't die', i told the voice, in my mind thinking of dying and not dying. I saw myself bleeding. A bleeding body dropping off the train while it crossed a bridge over a river. Over a river which would have cold pebbles. Over a river which would have cold pebbles which could sit smugly on my palm. A thin streak of red climbing upwards from my wrist to the sky. Fairy tale stuff. A jack to climb the red beanstalk.

It was the 'there-she-goes-again love story'.
Dreams are worse than ever. I should stop sleeping during the day. 

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