The Dream Embedded in Reality

The pent up emotions flowed in the form of words.

What other outlet did she have?

The dream she had witnessed a few nights ago was just that, a dream;

It could never be translated into reality.

It had been so beautiful,

Like everything in the world was so right.

He had come to her in her dreams.

Everything had been so perfect.

He had healed all her wounds,

Every touch of his felt like the healing balm that soothed her soul.

She felt renewed, revived, replenished.

They had looked at each other for hours to no end;

Each knowing exactly what the other was thinking.

It had always been that way between them,

Neither had needed words to express their deepest feelings.

They were in complete sync, fully attuned to each other’s minds.

In the dream that night, they were united in body and soul,

Both bare of all inhibitions,

Lost to the world,

Touching, feeling, kissing; two starved souls fulfilling one another.

With each stroke they inched closer to the ultimate release,

The perfect rhythm, in complete abandon,

Each wanting to please the other, pulling at no stops.

In the end the world shattered in the most heavenly way possible

It felt bittersweet; they lay besides each other.

Oh she remembered it so vividly, the dream searing into her conscious mind.

But like all good things the dream came to an end, she woke.

Reality struck like a cruel blow.

If only she could fall asleep again and be lost in his arms.

That was not to be.

A dream was all it was, and a dream was all it would ever be.

Blank

Many a times she felt the urge to write, but no words came to her. She kept staring at the blank sheet of paper waiting to be filled, but her mind mirrored the blankness of the paper. Writing helped her relieve the anger and pain she felt, kept it all at bay for a while; but how can you write when you don’t know what you wanna write about?

She wondered often what would make her feel better. Revenge was too easy; she knew a million ways in which she could avenge all that he had put her through. He would be finished by the time she was through with him; a mere shell of a man. But that would be too easy. Also, it was beneath her. She wanted closure, but seeking closure in the misery of the person who had hurt her wasn’t her style. She had tried talking sense into him, tried to make him understand the effect his words and actions had on her; but he had behaved like a man-boy, refusing to take responsibility, instead resorting to downright denial.

There was no point in dwelling on the past. It only brought about more pain, dragging her into the depths of darkness from where she found it impossible to escape. When the heart is ripped apart, it’s a death of its own kind, where the body is alive but the soul is long gone. How long would it last, this existence like that of a corpse?

It seemed futile sometimes, all this hurt for what? For someone who is long gone, for someone who didn’t deserve her? She knew her worth, yes, she did. Every time she had looked at him she had seen ‘perfect’ written all over him. What she had failed to see was the fine print: waste of time.

All it took…

All it took was one dialogue that she came across in a TV show; “The reason it fucked me up so much is because that was the one thing I was so sure and so wrong about at the same time.” And that was her undoing. Everything unraveled. Like a series of falling dominoes  Her calm, composure, all that she had attained so slowly fell away chip by chip, slowly at first, going faster, like a floodgate had opened, and she just couldn’t stop it.

She realized that that was the answer to all the questions that she had asked, that kept her awake at night in endless agony, what had gone wrong? It hadn’t been the first time that she had lost someone so near and dear to her, wouldn’t be the last. Then why had it affected her so much? It was because she has been so sure that he was the one person who would never hurt her in an irreversible manner, foolishly her trust ran that deep; only, fate and time proved her wrong in equal measure.

The tears came unbidden, retracing their favourite path down her cheeks. ‘Cry me a river’ was the phrase most lovers used, well, she had cried an ocean. She knew it was never going to be enough. When all it took was one random dialogue out of a TV show to unravel her, it was going to be a long time before she felt sane again. All she had were stolen moments of tranquility she found in the bottom of a glass of scotch or rum. She was anyway too broke to be a full-time alcoholic. 

One step forward, and back two

A distant memory crossed her mind, softly, like the whisper of a child; her breath stilled, she was instantly transported back into the past. The memories always came back without any warning; sometimes like a gentle breeze that soothes you on a summer night, and sometimes like a curse straight from hell. She couldn't remember what had caused the memory to strike so suddenly, or why it had come to haunt her, but it did.

Things had been much better lately. The smoldering rage that burned her very soul was abating; the tears didn’t come so frequently anymore. Inner peace was slowly being restored; the nights weren’t so much of an agony anymore. She had learnt that time doesn't really heal the wounds; it just diminishes the intensity of the response that the wounds once brought about. Time brings acceptance that a small part of you will always remain broken beyond repair; that that battered part of you will always belong to the person who caused the pain. Love comes with a price, oh and the price she had paid.

 The cracks in her soul were visible in the depths of her eyes. Some days weren't so bad, she felt fine, renewed even. And just when she thought she was getting better, that she could laugh a laugh that was reflected in her eyes, the memories erupted from the woodwork and proved her wrong. Then the tears would flow and her breath would come in gasps, as she tried to keep her world from crumbling yet again.

The damage had been done. She knew it was never going to be the same. She just hoped that someday she could lock up all that hurt into a corner in her heart and not let it affect her the way it did now; but she knew that today was not the day. The memories lurked in the distant abyss of her mind, like the dark clouds that warned you of a fast approaching storm. She managed to keep them at bay, but for how long could she continue to do so? Every day was an effort to get by. It was like taking one step forward into the future, and two steps back into the past. She kept walking. She had to. What was the alternative?