Tag Archives: dreams

A Man With The Mask

Happy, ecstatic, joyous, exuberant, there is just no one word to define the feeling when someone special is going to take you out on a date.

And to make the occasion extra special I go to extreme terms and dress up just for him. With a little bit of lipstick, a red dress, and a pair of high heels I am ready right on time. Of course I’ll be ready on time, if I’d be preparing for hours. Restless, I check the windows for any sign of his car, the phone for any texts. And just a few minutes later a horn blows off, and I am pretty sure it’s him.

Hiding behind the curtains, I take a glimpse, confirming that it’s him. Then, composing myself I go to the door to welcome him. Out of habit, I look through the peep hole.

It is not him. There is no one.

The doorbell rings again, constantly.

It is definitely not him.

I look through it again. And I fall back a couple of steps, trying to hold onto something, to be stable. I have never seen such a creature in my life. There is a lean, bony man outside, looking right at me, right at that tiny hole, making his face larger. He is smiling at it, smiling cunningly. He has a dark complexion, with weird teeth, and ears too big for any human face. He is wearing a black mask. He is laughing; I can hear it through the sound proof door. And just when I gulp down the saliva from my mouth, he starts banging on the door, laughing, and screaming, ‘I am going to get you.”

I double lock the door, rush to the windows and lock them too. I run to my room, locking the balcony, bolting every possible door and window, increasing the claustrophobia within. The air grows thick; I am sweaty, unable to breathe, shivering with fear and rage. Doubt and apprehension fill my mind.

Where is he?

Who is this creature?

What is going on?

What am I supposed to do?

I rush to grab my phone, and somehow the battery is drained, wasn’t it charged about 80%, right before he was to come?

The landline is dead.

And then the power goes off.

The next thing I know is I am in my bed, hardly breathing, craving for some air, my mouth is dry, and the mascara from my eyes has spread beyond my pink cheeks. I lay quite, befriending silence, trying to listen to any sound.  I have one arm under the pillow, shivering, holding a small gun, when I hear footsteps.

It couldn’t be.

I locked everything.

The shadow neared.

And my terror augmented.

Any thought of the date, a someone special, was nowhere in my mind now.

And then that lean, dark and bony creature entered my room.

His laugh sent shivers down me, and all my mind could think of was “Why me?”

The mask was not my illusion; it was a confirmation, the only common link among all the recent rape cases in the town, of all the women who were raped and murdered. He was the same man, the man with the mask!

He was a serial killer.

In my house?

Our eyes met, and he bent to grab my legs.

I kicked and waved with all my might, tears stinging my eyes. I got up, grabbed the blanket and covered my body, and with the other hand, I held the gun, pointing right at him.

Only it was not a gun. Instead it was a bed side lamp.

Only, there was no serial killer in my room, there was no one.

Only, I had been dreaming, dreaming the plot of the book that I am currently reading.

All sweaty, and craving for some air, I put down the lamp silently, and yet hesitated to open the windows. My mouth went dry at the mere thought of the dream. Sure, it was just a dream but I had seen it too closely.

I gulped down a glass of water, splashing some onto my face and went back to bed not daring to go outside, not wanting to even take a peek outside, till the sun came up.

 

PS: Currently reading,  ‘A Thin Dark Line’ by Tami Hoag.

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My Sister’s Keeper

Warning: I might end up discussing the story of the book too.

I was reading, so that I could kill my time, I was reading so that I could have a Sunday on a Monday, I was reading so that I could find out what actually happens to Anna, what about Kate? Will she live? Will she die? How is the family going to take it? How will Sara react when she finds out that her own daughter files a case against her and her husband, Brian? What is wrong with Jesse, their oldest son? What kind of chemistry do Campbell and Julia share, and what exactly is Judge, the dog for?

My sister’s keeper by Jodi Picoult has all the answers to it, and I was on the verge of finding them. Hardly did I know that by then I will be left shattered, once again. I really have lost count how many times a simple book has done that to me by now.

Devouring the last few pages of the book, digging my nails into the covers of the book, I realised that I was almost crying, at least on the verge of. I was battling hard to even breathe by now.

I mean, what, how, when, why???

It is then, that I realised that we have absolutely no control of our lives, we may think, we have, but no, we do not have even a grasp over it. I felt like a mere puppet playing the so called game, life.

We think we can control our lives, but all we have is a most shallow form of control, a simple interpretation of life, when in reality it is far more intense with lot many twists and turns which we can never in our rarest dreams anticipate.

Kate was the one suffering with some sort of cancer, Anna was the once conceived to donate her organs to her sister, then how come this end to a story?

The book is simply about Anna fighting for herself, but in the end what happens is really what I did not expect.

I kept the book aside, pages fluttering with the air, the ceiling fan really creaking down on me, and there I slept with the small lamp switched on, for the lightest hope to cling on to.

 

Rest-less Mind

After a long an tiring day, I go to bed with thoughts as usual in my mind. I don’t know about you but it happens with me almost every day, in bed there are various thoughts as my company. They may vary from fantasies, dreams, events, to any kind of conversation that may or may not have even happened.

So yesterday, I went to sleep with such unpredictable thoughts, and to my alarm I woke up with the same thoughts too.

Half in sleep, half awake, I wondered if I was still dreaming, but I was awake now and was flummoxed with my mind racing. How was it even possible to have come to life with the same thoughts from the last night?

Was my mind never at rest?

 

Absence

She always slept on her side of the bed, it never occurred to her to apprehend the whole bed. How could she? It was his and will always be.

Lying on the bed she turned to his side smiling at the fluffed up pillow as if he was there with her. He always liked it fluffed. She remembered how he would crib if ever his pillow was not done. Smiling at the thought she caressed the silk sheets as if it was his stomach. He had always liked her tease tickling not to forget they were his favourite sheets. She had grown to love them. How could she not? They were beautiful, just like him.

A drop of tear rolled from her eyes and she wiped it off just in time when her husband came. He slept on the other corner leaving the mid bed empty. He touched her hands with all the warmth and love that he could muster despite the loss and smiled at her. She knew it wasn’t real he was faking smiles too.  But what else could they do? He would not come back. They knew it. He was just five years old and they had lost him forever. They both deemed themselves to be guilty of the mishap. But it wasn’t the truth. It was an accident and now all they could do was fight the time together.

His absence was killing them. Hand in hand they dozed off with dreams of a son they had a beautiful life with.