Dreams… she didn’t have dreams. What she had were nightmares. Nightmares that compelled her to wake up with a shout stuck in her throat. No she can’t shout. She mustn’t shout. What if her mother wakes up and realise she is still traumatic? What if she realises that the normal behaviour she has been putting up with is nothing other than an act? Can she risk it? No, she can’t. Stifling the disturbance, she goes back to sleep again, only to be tormented by her inner demons.
No matter how much she tries, in her sleep she goes back to the beautiful times she spent. Times unimaginable by her, times she didn’t expect to come her way, times that are now best left for the memory album. Regardless of the amount of effort she puts in to move beyond, she feels tied down by a rope and fixed to one particular date… one particular episode. She didn’t have much expectations from life. All she wanted was a simple and happy life, but seems it was the most elusive thing to ask for. So she stopped asking and accepted life the way it presented itself. She didn’t want to be showered with undue attention, she didn’t want to become the cynosure of all eyes, and she didn’t want to incur jealousy of few people. But she did. Was it her fault? Of course, it was hers to blame. Why would someone out of the blue fill her with so much love that she felt almost lucky to have him, only to snap his fingers and bring her out of her reverie? Why would someone build up expectations she never had, only to throw a stone at the castle built in air? There must be something wrong with her, otherwise why would she face it? She had never wished ill of people, never seek punishment for people who have always hurt her, but still she is the one who has to go through this feeling every day. A feeling that questions her why did you dream? Why did you allow your heart to wander and why did you give it to someone who regarded it with nothing? It was all a show. A show that had many spectators. Some with smiles pasted on their faces, some with genuine mirth, some with snide remarks carefully done behind her back and some with suggestions to stop the unnecessary public display of affection. Everyone had some opinion or the other to be given. But everyone did enjoy the show. None was to be blamed, but her… or maybe her stars. Otherwise, why would she encounter this? Why would her parents encounter this? Her parents had also fully accepted and welcomed this intruder. Her mother saw the son she never had in him, while her father saw a dear friend with whom he can build a team to tease his daughter. From the evening outings to occasional shopping for the D-Day, it was all so perfect… possibly that is why it had to fall apart. Today, even after many months when she is much better than what her situation was, there are ghosts of emotion that pass through her face that talks of the atrocities she met at the hands of the person she trusted most. A subtle story, a simple anecdote or a fleeting memory, everything opens a floodgate within her, she has tightly secured. Oh, it better stays shut, it stays subdued… who knows if she can at all handle any more to take a walk back through the boulevard of her broken dreams… dreams she never imagined, dreams she was assured to be trusted, which in reality was nothing but illusion cast around by someone… |
AuthorA professional corporate writer, writing outside the box. Categories
All
Recent Posts |