I Have No Parachute

Those who know me well would know that I have a fixation with dreams, the genesis of which probably lies in the darkness of my own. My dreams have always been rather textbook - chased by monsters, pain & despair, and oh! the classic - a free-fall through infinite space. Falling is one of the most common themes of human dreams the world over. It's amazing how almost all of us can have dreams with the same recurring theme while having completely different life-experiences. In fact, falling dreams often begin in young children with little life experience to speak of. My father, the author, through his protagonist in Paper Boat, expounded an idea that he calls "Dream Chambers". The concept of which is that in our minds, we have 2 distinct dream chambers - the first we are born with and is like a pre-loaded hard disc with all the usual suspects - monsters & mayhem , ghosts & ghouls, falling & flying. The 2nd is unique to each of us and is slowly filled up over time with dreams that are spawned from our experiences and ideas. I think I subscribe to this concept as it does seem like we are pre-programmed with certain fears & fantasies. Which brings me back to Falling. One of the most common dream-themes, it is no surprise that I often am visited by dreams of this nature. And as always, here I pen my falling dream...

Blackened clouds swirling round,
Wind shrieking, pounding past my ears.
Rushing up, I sense, a hard cold ground,
Built on my sorrows, bound by my fears.

Falling faster, but - somehow slow,
Clutching at straws, I try to survive.
But I just can't seem to get a hold
on the fragments left of this so-called life.

Anchors heavy, tied to my feet.
Is it a wonder I'm hurtling down?
The ropes cut in - I start to bleed.
Blood - not scarlet; murky brown.

Look into my soul, you'll see the cause.
There's years of filth & disease in there.
Growing & spreading, sinking its claws,
tainting my blood, enrobing the air.

Closing my eyes, I wait for impact,
thinking of those I surely will miss.
But there is no denying the inevitable fact -
My sense was wrong - this is the abyss.

Of Beer and Bullets

Sometimes, a chilled can of beer (or ten) does much to open your mind, even those pockets that the drudgery of modern life has filled with its crass and mundane chaff.
In those moments, you start to think more deeply about your life - the one that has gone by and the one that is to be. In those moments with just the two of us- myself and deep thought (Nay, Douglas Adams, I don't mean the same), my mind sometimes tends to veer to some semblance of self-pity, self-loathing and maybe self-defense of some sort. (I believe it is a natural human tendency - and one that I'm not inclined to shy away from.) In such times, I find that writing out my absurd, and sometimes downright weird, thoughts to be quite a liberating release. Ergo, came the following:

Could this world be more perfect?
Is there anything I lack?
It seems like I have everything.
I'm awesome - that's a fact!

I live the good life everyday,
My life is like a song.
All I know is happiness,
for nothing can go wrong.

The universe cries out aloud,
but I'm a class apart.
Strife abounds; but none of it
can penetrate my heart.

I am the Ice Princess.
The rest may toil and yet
my life is just so simple;
I want - and I get.

And you might wonder what
has made me the way I am.
I've built a wall around
my heart; I've built a dam.

For I know if I weren't
on the inside so dead,
that I would take a gun and
put a bullet through my head.

Hush Little Baby...

Night falls and a darkness sets in (yes I know darkness is part of the package but I am going for a more poetic sort of darkness here!). The human mind is a strange contraption and one possibly could not find a stranger, more faulty piece than mine. I find that what goes on in a mind particularly when one drifts away into the arms of Morpheus can be of utmost fascination. Some are lucky enough to play host to the most wondrous of dream sequences - where for a few glorious hours one gets to be all that they wished to be. Others live out their fantasies - waking up flushed in the morning but satisfied with the night gone by. I envy them too. Me? I often live in the darkness that creeps in, clawing at my senses, gnawing at my very core.

On a morning after one such night of darkness, I took to my notepad (as always) and penned down my recount of the night that had passed...

The air is heavy with the heady perfume
Of fuchsias, bluebells & daisies aplenty.
Colours splashed on a canvas of peace.
An idyllic scene to a girl of twenty.

The gentle hum of the breeze blowing past.
The sweet smell of honey tickles my nose.
I feel a surreal calm inside
As I soak up the warmth from my head to my toes.

Skipping with joy, I break into song.
I have everything I could possibly need.
And now I see my family and friends
Running towards me, gathering speed.

Waving at the crowd, I smile to myself.
I’m content with the beauty that’s all around.
A sound from behind – I turn to look.
And then – there’s blood spattered on the ground.

In a flash I’m alone – no longer outside.
I have no idea of where I have come.
I only know that I’ve been here before.
I’m scared, my heart- it pounds like a drum.

I become aware of a pain in my chest.
There’s blood flowing freely all over me.
A guttural voice- I’m not alone.
He wants to hurt me, to watch me bleed.

Helpless & dying, I’m lying on the floor.
Begging for mercy, but, in vain it seems.
For twenty five minutes I’m brutalized
And butchered – as happens in all my dreams.

My eyes fly open; it’s time to wake up.
I crawl out of bed, a broken girl.
I’m assaulted this way every night of my life.
Believe it – and welcome to my world.