Hi friends, hope you haven’t forgotten this stupid. I am so overwhelmed with my workload I just tossed everything out and decided to get some of my frustration out of my system. Well I have an overactive mind while I sleep, the result of which are my dreams. I equally love and hate them. This is my short tribute to never ending DREAMS!!!
Being an artist always has its ups and downs; well one particular benefit was the power of imagination which comes naturally to me. As a painter and a sculptor I had the capacity to see things which were not there. For instance the world is such a busy place filled with all negativity but an artist can look into this grey world but see beautiful hues of red, green and blue in the blessing of an elderly, smile of a child, tears of heartbreak, care of mother, cry of infants, beauty of love and peace of slumber. The strength of imagination fuels my dreams while I sleep.
It had been a very long and tiring day for me emotionally as well as physically. I had got to know the truth of Ishana being a con girl. It was a hard thing for me to swallow because somewhere in our meetings I strongly felt that I had seen the real Ishana but the confrontation had only left her image as a liar, it was like someone had splashed a bucket full of jade black colour on a breathtaking painting of a woman whose eyes were filled with innocence, purity and truth. The raw pain I was still feeling at her betrayal was still pinching my heart from inside out.
And she left just like that. Leaving me an emotional mess with hundreds of unanswered questions. My heart suddenly felt heavier and tears started to flow, that’s how Shivay and Rudra found me crying and trying to make sense of things. They let me cry for a long time. Later they took me to a room and made me lie down. Exhaustion took over me and I soon went into a deep slumber. This is where being an artist becomes a terrible curse……………
I found myself in a forest lost and hurt. I tried to call out for help but my voice didn’t even come out, after several more attempts I started to panic feeling I had lost my ability to talk. The only source of light was coming from a distance, scared it would vanish I ran to it as fast as I could. It was Ishana and she was dressed in a white dress which shimmered when she moved, her hairs were braided with wild flowers. She was magnificent and glowing. She was the source of light in that dark forest. She was the image of perfection, innocence, truth and purity. Even though I couldn’t utter a single word I felt totally mystified and speechless by her. Her eyes were full of sorrow but she smiled when she saw me and for a moment there was life in her eyes, like she was at peace finally. I tried again to call out for her but I couldn’t but in complete vain. She threw a last look at me started to walk away. I tried to run behind her so as to hold her and beg her in some way to not to leave me alone in the gloom of this ferocious wild to my surprise this time my limbs felt heavy as somebody was pulling them back against all my strength. I look down and to my horror I was tied down by strong chains and vines of the trees, from a distance I heard Ishana scream. I saw something sharp and deadly pierce her abdomen from the back and her pure white dress started to soak in red. I saw her take a last breath looking lovingly at me with a small smile on her lips. I cried out her name.
I sat up soaking wet by sweat and shaking, I shook my head to clear the drumming sound in my ears but it was my heart beating in anxiety. I wiped at my eyes from which the tears had again flowed freely. Slowly my wits gathered back and I was glad to be alone in the bedroom. . It was just a dream. It was light outside, meaning a new day but my confusion was still the same?
Well friends which I wanted to be a drabble looks like turned out to be a long one shot. Sorry a hundred times if I bored the hell out of my readers and as always rotten tomatoes or a round of applause are both accepted heartily in the store of my heart. Ta ta till next time.