Like every other day, he doesn’t remember when he fell asleep. A vague memory of reading a book he bought yesterday seems to find it’s way into his conscious. Like every time, he finds himself in a dream. A strange gathering of the crew is with him, consisting of his friends from different parts of his life. The ship seems to have hit an iceberg and panic rose all around him. He finds himself being calm, in contrast to the setting he is in. He doesn’t remember how he ended up here.
He tried to take in the details around, his gaze falling upon a girl who is stuck on the edge cliff. She is someone he loved in his past, maybe now too. It’s been a long time since he let the thoughts of her crave into his mind. A part of his rational mind started to tell him that it’s just a dream. But seeing her there invoked a sense of reality in him. He tried to run to her, to free her and help her from the coming trouble. But he was unable to move. State of paralysis took over him. He had long been suffering this sudden attacks of paralysis when encountered with danger. He never tried to confront it or confess it to others. Sudden miracles saved him from the crisis all the time. But now it’s different. He is fighting to move, to raise his finger or to shout at people, trying to get help from them, trying to ask them to help her. He couldn’t make even a tiny noise.
His inner anguish started to swell. All he was able to do was cry, cry in vain. His anger started to boil him up. He is useless now. Realising one’s uselessness is never a happy sight. His tears grew in number, turning into a stream. Nobody seemed to notice her in their own trials of survival. She looked into his eyes, holding out her hand, calling him. He cries.
A loud siren rings around as if it is gonna help him. He tries to look around but ends up incapable of any movement. Siren sounds louder startling him finally to wake up. It’s his alarm buzz. He wakes up to find his pillow wet with tears, groping around, his hand, to find his phone. Switches off the alarm. Problem with such dreams is that even after the end, they leave us with scarred and disturbed mood. Wiping out the tears from his eyes, he switches on his phone with thumb impression.
Back in the days, finding her profile on Facebook was too easy, it always ended up at the top of his search list. Being blocked from her contact and his long trials of trying to bury her memories added to his semi paralytic state. After a minute or so, he opened his secondary Facebook account which is used in stalking people, a hobby of his. Finding her there is easy, but not much information about her is visible. He scrolls down to find her old pictures, ones which he clicked. It’s a thing of past now. Past even buried finds its way to disturb us. As if our present is its enemy. Thanks to his practice of quick jumping from memory to memory to end up at some pleasant ones, looking at her pictures don’t seem to bother him much.
Before putting down his phone, he looks at the time. It’s 10 AM, a mere two hours since the last timing he remembered. He was used to fewer sleep hours and the paralytic nightmares. He makes a quick note to find about such dreams online. He doesn’t much prefer consulting anyone when he finds a problem. Finding solutions on his own has always been his thing. Knowing a way out is one thing, putting it into practice is another.
A sudden notice of class at 12 AM comes up. He quickly finishes his daily bodily chores and starts boiling water for coffee, some addiction of his. It takes half an hour to reach his university. He makes sure to leave in time sipping in hot gulps of coffee. Plugging in earphones and playing online chess has become a daily routine in his travels. Unlike any other day, he takes a seat on the bus. This freed up some of his thought space, which gave in entry to the disturbing memory of his dream. He smiles at his helplessness. What do those dreams mean? One day, it’s his father who needs the help; another day, his mom; his sister. Few times it’s the girl.
Ever since she parted, such dreams became a common ritual his mind goes through. Maybe it’s his minds’ way of telling that he isn’t capable enough, always falling short of doing what needed to be done, failing his parents and not being able to do much to get the girl. He seemed to have accepted his incompetence and thus ended up smiling. This distraction cost him his present chess game. He lost, smiling again.
Annoying notifications stumbled into his phone. Slightly anger gesture of his opened them up instead of sliding them into oblivion. Messages keep flooding in into his Whatsapp groups. Why do people share this pseudo wisdom all the time? As if those words turn our lives. He remembers a conversation he had with his Uncle recently. ‘No amount of knowledge can help the one with inexperience. You have a lot to see in life. Your present thoughts even though contains a lot of intellect isn’t enough’ said his Uncle. He does seem to agree with Uncle. But now he thinks, ‘aren’t this Uncle and so… the ones who keep sending the quotes of wisdom in chats? Isn’t his earlier words contradictory?’
Stupidity always bothered him. Looking into others’ mistakes made him angry at his own self, for he thought he is just as prone to those mistakes as they are. he might have committed few and not realise. Getting lost in thoughts is something he always does. Now he missed his stop. A sad smile takes over his face again. Smiling at reminders of his failure and incompetence is his new trend. He also likes to keep changing his names. One time he took upon Mike as a name. Right now he is back with his give name.
He gets into another train in the coming station. Walking from the stop to his class gave him some free thought space again. He takes in the view on the way. Two old cathedrals stand opposite each other with a four-track road drawing a line between them. Old buildings with their brown-tinged walls stand as their fellow army, giving it a standoff like a look, Cathedrals being the leader and buildings, their foot soldiers. Along the road on two sides stands a large row of street lights, antique in their look, fitted in with modern electric appliances. Walking there in the late nights, roads lit with the yellowish lights from those array of poles give it the look from old Hollywood movies.
The silence around him added to his melancholic mind. He wanted to get away from people, cutting away the few bonds he had for quite some time. Now finding himself in a foreign country in an empty street resembling his life, he wonders if this is enough. He remembers a quote ‘A ship is not built to stay anchored. It is made to go into the waters’. Something like that. Trying to achieve solitude was fine. But should he keep it that way all his remaining life? His ship should hit the water and withstand the currents to finish his journey.
‘200 metres straight, approx 50 metres left, 30 metres right, a slight turn and 120 metres straight, 250 metres left, a slight turn and 25 metres walk’ He updates his inner compass so that it runs in auto-mode, freeing up space to think about other things. Sorting things physically and mentally gives him quite a satisfaction. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to possess a book which has answers to every question possible, he thinks. But then it takes away all the fun in finding answers in life, he corrects.
BANG!!! He hits a trashcan in the way. Getting lost in thoughts and ramming into things on the path…
Raising his head to correct his path and update his inner maps again, he finds a poster in a foreign language with a guy, God knows who, posing an awkward grin as if suggesting that he did a mistake perchance. Luckily the company posted in the ad seems to have a solution to correct this mistake. What a weird way to grab the attention of people, he noted. ‘Wasn’t that the thing to do, to make people notice you. We see women posing semi-nude to catch peoples glances. Semi-nude to catch men, enviable models to fetch looks of women.’
Life is one creative motherfucker. You think you are making love with it. But the truth is it is raping you. You enjoying the orgasms doesn’t change what’s done. Either you have fun or get traumatised.
He seems to have accepted this truth and been trying to have fun getting raped. A small half an hour journey can change the whole destination for some. He doesn’t seem to mind letting the wind carry him in whatever direction. A quick look at the nearby library reminded him of the book he was reading. His mental task list has ‘finishing the book’ at the top. So he decides to go to a silent tree shade nearby his university to read. That’s the issue with starting a new book. It constantly begs attention.
There is a coffee shop on the way. The high-density aroma of coffee makes him go mad as a dog feels to the scent of meat. He changes his route to include a coffee-stop. A sudden feeling of anxiety rises in him when the coffee hit his nerves. Heartbeat peaks up and he feels the rush to run away. Sweat trickles down the forehead. Travel path changed back to the metro he got down from. His compass was updated with final destination Home for today.
Reaching home, he ended his adventure of sorts.
