that night I dreamt of fire and cherubs, hands clutching at the book I’d started reading- lines from the latest chapter defining my feelings and probably existence. My blanket was a drape of white wings with elegant blue flowers and- that night I dreamt of faeries and childhood horrors. I’d try to twist and turn but it was as if the fire was burning inside me paralyzing me as a result, making me shudder and- that night I dreamt of failure and dark alleys. I could hear myself from a year ago, from a decade ago- until I wasn’t in my body and I was Dante, I was Aristotle, I was Hamlet, I was Anpanman, I was fire and I was poverty, and- that night you’d think I was going crazy. I remember the flickering tube-light trying to penetrate my eyelids open and the soft complaining creak of the slow fan against the stark silence and the detergent and illegal coffee mixing together in a satisfying collaboration.
I’m not sure why I woke up with a start. Maybe it was the sound of the intimidating footfalls accompanied by the sudden stirring of air that the new-comers’ presence had caused. Or it might have been the blaring shout asking for some books that shook me into a state of awareness. I sit up, my head throbbing and my legs tangled in the thick blanket and my hands amidst in an ocean of perspiration and my hair plastered to my neck. I recall frowning against the troublesome brightness and the taste of bile in my mouth and being swayed down by a wave of annoyance and frustration. I recall the back of my eyes hurting and then the eerie feeling of loneliness seducing my tears out of hiding, try as I might to not cave in. As I sobbed into my hands, under the shelter of my blanket- I caught sight of the book I’d been reading. The broken dreams came back to me and I was speeding toward a blind turn and I was crashing and I was falling, falling, failing.
...
that night I dreamt of opium trunks and priceless rubies. I journeyed into fire and hell, carrying my own precious burdens that weighed me down- did not anchor me but dragged me into the earth till I was covered in a suffocating embrace of darkness and anticipation. I was crying without tears and laughing without mirth. I was breathing and collapsing. I walked and walked and walked into dead ends and unsolicited embraces. Angels did not fall from the sky but they emerged from the ground like zombies. Fireworks did not explode into the sky instead it rained fire and- that night felt like an eternity. I was pushing around in a harsh ocean that kept rising like water in a bath-tub, and I with it kept losing my grip and I went in, in, in. Under the water I saw everything tearing apart, so fast and yet, so slow. The salt kept overcoming my senses and the ordinary sound of ocean waves amplified till it hurt and the blue hue of the ocean that I once loved brightened till even the balls of my palms did little to black it out. I saw quotes from books and my favorite lyrics used as epitaphs and at this, I was breathless and it hurt to move and my brain felt like a monster; the fire and water and blood and clouds became a storm till-- that night, oh, that night I dreamt of everything as it gave away into a fabulous great void of feverish nothingness.
Comments