Life as of now and a Dream 

Chapter-2

I have met people in my life, who are gifted in a very unconventional way; unconventional in the common man’s eye. They have a mere quality that stands apart from the usual souls. They kill.

   They kill time. What’s special about them? Anybody can, pat would come the reply. They can kill time effortlessly, without much ado, without doing anything. I have started respecting these people, the stargazers and the crow counters. As the sun comes up, along the misty eastern horizon, the world is put on the fast forward mode, running, panting, withering, breathing, not-breathing, looking back. Intriguing. As the red, mellowed, diffused sun rises and circles the hemispherical sky, turns hot, and golden, old and finally sets in the western line of fire, in the twilight zone, I just grapple around in the 2BHK flat in an obscure part of Kolkata.  Switching the T.V on then off, opening the black diary, then closing, turning my mind on and then off. But one thing is fun, walking with a stick is cool, you can try out various postures of walking. Lol...   

Yesterday I had a dream. A real dream; remember “Tintin and the explorer’s on the moon” and how Thompson and Thomson were flying around when they landed on moon, in effect of less gravitational force? I dreamt that earth’s gravity has reduced to 1/6^th of what it is, and I am the only one to feel it, weird, yeah I know, but dreams have that license to be weird, anyway, I was flying, floating, streaming across. The vision was so vivid, so detailed so uncharacteristic, I felt a bit stumped when I woke up from sleep today morning. I would never want to forget that dream, it was fun flying around. There are certain beautiful things that you would never want to part with, to lose.

Ah, yes... the dream, I was talking of the dream, I saw a long, winding road, littered with flowers and trees and it all mystically green. I was floating above them, hovering above them, undulating with the flow of the wind. I was literally excited. Rolling, jumping, laughing like a child, tears streamlined across my face as the wind brushed past, my eyes crinkled, all fired up. It was a small moment of jubilation and ecstasy, before it ended.

Every beginning has an end. But still we create them, in the hope of... Every beautiful thing has an end. And then one more comes.