A man has been created out of the blinds amongst the curtains.
I discovered him one night when I couldn’t sleep. I was staring hard at the desk and curtains in front of me, shapes started to emerge within the blinds. His birth was a gradual process and he was thus born.
I couldn’t sleep despite the amount of trickery I tried on myself. My mind outwitted me.
I spoke to him. He seemed nice. Too tall and lean, it scared me. He was cloaked in darkness.
He seemed uninviting.
He watched every move.
I did not want to be scared of him.
The first step was acknowledging his existence.
It was only fair to give my friend a name.
He was my creation. So, I gave him his name, Rounald.
I connected with his name. It felt intimate.
It was hard to sleep knowing his darkness just stared at me. He moved funny. He did not move from his spot, yet he was all over the place.
He was like one of those tall balloons high up in the sky with hands and legs that moved around in the air.
I kept watching him.
I stared at him intensely and had conversations. It was one sided but satisfying.
After a point, my visions started to blur, and I saw him leaping all over. He no longer was my Rounald.
I told him to quit it.
I was afraid of him now.
I turned away from him, turned over to left side of the bed and slept.
I wanted to peek a look and see if he was still there, lurking
I couldn’t bring myself to do it because I was tired and did not want to give him the satisfaction, but I was mostly scared.
Nowadays, I do not want to step into the bedroom when the lights are off.
I know he would be there in his usual spot.
How do I know?
It’s because I have felt a cold draft of wind behind my back at the very thought of him. A physical coldness now encapsulates me.
It was chilling then but now, romantic.
I am still scared but my fears are now being washed over.
Slow and steady wins the game.
I have created him. That’s the fact.
To live alongside him or to deny his existence, that was my call.
I chose the former
Now, I sleep at ease knowing he watches over me.
Today was a beautiful day.
The world spoke to me and the day invited me to seek and soak out the sun and everything it touched
“Get out!” it screamed and that’s what I did!
I have been living in Nottingham for quite some while and it was the first time I had heard of Night Lights- a celebration of lights and art!
There were many events being held in different parts of the town!
It was only very few times that one would come across this celebration!
So, I took the chance and it gave me a reason to go out and explore!
A reason to discover and to connect!
An event that caught my attention was one organized by the Green’s Windmill and Science Centre! It offered visitors to view the night lights of the city from a height. My lust for the lights convinced me to go and feast
I did go to the windmill once with my father and we had to climb four flights of steep stairs to reach the top.
Each step to the view that awaited was a step closer to my heart clenching.
The reason for my heart to cry out in danger were because of the large gaps between each step.
My brain convinced me that I would slip through those gaps and break the bones or my body or my head
So, my father held my hand and helped me face my fear to climb them.
I trusted my fears to leave me as soon I held my father’s hand who led the way.
My fear subsided but never left.
Cutting back to the present, I forgot about those steps and went to see the light.
As soon as I entered the mill, my eyes fell upon those cruel spaces between those stairs.
My fears came back and I almost decided to abandon my quest to see my love, but I took a brave step and started the ascent
It was terrifying but my feet led the way and my heart dropped further and further.
Upon reaching each level, I looked out those small windows and let my eyes gaze upon the skies and then stared with awe at the lights twinkling in the dusk
I couldn’t get enough from each floor and the desire to see more kept me going further and further upon the stairs
It was terrifying with each step and when I looked down at my feet climbing them, my heart and my body shivered but the desire was stronger than ever.
As, I finally reached the top, relief and accomplishment showered upon me
I DID IT ALL BY MYSELF!
I for the first time successfully without anyone’s lending hand faced the daunting fear of these god forsaken stairs
However, my challenge did not end there.
I had to come back to the ground and climbing down somehow was much worse
To see all the huge gaps at one go as you walk down was my doom
I carefully took all the time the world offered and let my feet step down onto each step slowly as a tortoise.
The rest was history but I reached the ground.
I had completed the ascent!
No matter how small the adventure or challenge is, once completed, nothing can ever amount to the greatness you feel!
One day, one adventure
Many more to go
To capture this state of euphoria, I wrote down my thoughts and I couldn’t be more serendipitous.
Out of this day came a work of art that I am proud of.
Sometimes, I do it for the words and sometimes, I do it for the adventures.
Today, I did it for both.
Going to IKEA felt oddly at home. It was surprisng on how a furniture retail company sparks such sheer amounts of happiness!
It was always the best outing with family and friends. When a member of the family suggests going to IKEA, damn oh damn! Our weekends are made!
It is like Christmas! One can just go to IKEA without a wallet and just spend hours over there walking and exploring the difference sections. We are the type to take our wallets with us because you never know. IKEA sure has tricks upon its sleeve to trap you and it sure is an efficient trap!
You know you love IKEA when from a mile, you see that big store logo and your heart starts to beat in excitement thinking of the wonderful day and the fun you are going to have! As you inch closer to that big store, you can’t wait to step your foot in and go crazy!
When you enter, you are greeted with the decor. It quickly sets you into a good mood!
IKEA is never empty. It amazes me on how it always packed regardless of the time or the day!
Exploring the different rooms IKEA had is the most favourite thing of all. Each layout and room rooms gave me different inspiration as to how my dream house would be.
I have always thought that living in IKEA would be the best dream to achieve. I have also made plans as to how I could achieve this.
Plan 1: Steal the invisible cloak from Harry Potter, use the invisble cloak, hide under the duvet and wait for everyone to leave and the store to shut down, then it’s time to party!
Plan 2: Hide under the duvet, wait for everyone to leave and the store to shut down, then it’s time to party!
Not much of variation in the plan, but it is still a plan!
Just imagine, if bored with your current room, you have the comfort of shifting from one room to an other! That’s the magic of IKEA! Offering you different styles and comfort all under a building.
How I usually spend my time in IKEA
In the different rooms , I would go from the bedoom, to the bathroom and then to the kitchen taking notes of how I would incoporate such styles into my dream home. (Would only have the luxury of implementing it, only I were rich! SIGH )
Then in all the bedrooms, I would open the wardrobes and be in awe of how everything is so organized neatly and marvel upon the efficency of utilizng space and storage in such a tiny wardrobe.
I have also imagined situations. When guests come, I will impress them with the multittude of rooms I have to offer and they will gape upon it! I will lead them from one room to another. “This is my bedroom and now we walk into the kitchen.”
When I sit on the chairs in the living room, I imagine the type of conversations I would have with people, the books I would be reading sitting on this chair in this living space and watching TV!
I would stare at office spaces and book shelves and desperately wish, ” Damn, I wish I had that now or Damn, I wish I could have that!”
After careful exploration and fantasies, I then move onto other sections of IKEA, marvelling at all the toys, decor and crockery I would buy for my home!
The kitchen layouts are the most beautiful and desirable ones in IKEA! Oh how I would love for all those storage units! I imagine what I would put in each of those shelving units and how it would all be so efficent for my cooking! Those hard wood floors, marble countertops, the big kitchen counter where I would chop vegetables, prepare batter for cakes! I imagine it all!
I could just imagine me going full out like those chefs in movies, “Julie and Julia” “Chef”
Marble coloured crockery to go with the ambience of my kitchen! Such a beautiful dream!
It is not only the interiors of the room that I like but different sections of IKEA, the furniture, the decoartions, the room designs, the toys, the plants! Everything you need for a home, it is all there!
IKEA, such a long walk! Following the directions on the floor, one room leading to another and so on. It’s a fantasy land! You never know what to expect!
Going to IKEA with the family is always a joy but fights do spring up when one cannot control one’s urges and wishes to buy everything the store offers. We go to IKEA planning to buy one item and emerge out of the store with that one item and many others.
Well one thing that IKEA is known for are its Swedish meatballs! Everyone goes crazy for them! I have always wanted to try it but never got around to do it. The restaraunt in IKEA is always super packed thus making it impossible for a non patient person like me to try their food.
I hate waiting but I always do get a hot dog from them! I feel hot dogs from stores like these are just better!
I don’t think anyone ever has had a bad time in IKEA. I might be wrong but for a dysfunctional family like mine, we sure do have good times there!
It has been three days since I had gone to the gym. Three idle days of sitting in bed, reading and watching.
Today I went to the gym, it was energetic. It is a small gym with three equipments and some weights and a bounce ball in the building on the same floor as I live .
Nine huge glass windows were mounted to one side of the gym and a plain white wall on the other. The treadmill among the other gym equipments faced the windows giving me the opportunity to look out at the people on the streets indulging in their routine and/or activities.
I have a specific time when going to the gym here. Eleven A.M to Twelve P.M. I spend around an average of Forty minutes at the gym. During this time, I watch new and old people on the streets do their thing.
I am not much of a good observer. I just look at what the other people see. I see but not observe. I am trying to improve on that. So when at the gym, I teach myself by setting people as targets so I learn. I cannot deduce like Sherlock Holmes or Doctor Watson but they do teach quite a bit. I just let my mind do the bare minimum with some context either given in by the environment or by my mind.
When in the gym, I keep on some music or a podcast so that I tend not to strain my eyes looking at the screen of the phone which I do everyday every hour. So just during these Forty minutes, I let my eyes prey the world outside.
I notice what the people do. I feel like a hunter stalking its prey but not deciding to act on it. Instead just looking outside and watching, keeping it all to myself. I take note of the time when the vans come around and I would like to deduce for what purpose they come. I deduce it by the logo on the van. Pretty easy work. I like to keep my mind occupied with minuscule details like these.
Today I went to the gym at 10:50 AM. As usual, I watch the old and new people. What always catches my eyes are a pair. There are always those two men sitting on the ground sometimes standing indulging in conversations or sometimes resting.
I only see them there till I leave. I do not know what they do after. All this while I have been coming, I have never witnessed them leave during the time I spend in the gym.
I always wondered what brought them there at this specific time. I am assuming they were brought there by the obligations of their job. I would like to think of a higher purprose that brought them there, everyone who was brought there during the time I was there.
As always when I am on the treadmill, I watched them keenly trying to decipher why they were here. They wore Red shirts with Green luminous bands imprinted on the shirt around their arms and had black pants on.
I figured they were some sort of workers, but of what vocation, I could not figure that out. It would have been easy considering how one could learn about the purpose of different uniforms, but I rather not.
I tried to figure out the nature of the conversation they were having right now. The guy on the left had various hand movements going on. It seemed as if he was explaining some concept or a joke to the man, colleague or perhaps his friend on his right.
I could not understand what expression each of them had fixated on their faces because they wore big hats and looking down on them from a height, it was nearly impossible to figure. So I could only deduce. I say a joke because I could see the man smile a bit even if he had the big hat on.
After a brief of Ten minutes, they stood up and went near the big can that ressembles a canister but worn out and rusty. Then I saw a big white garbage truck come along and these two men placed the big can onto the rear holders and the garbage was dumped into back of the truck. As soon as the the truck completed the job, they hopped along the sides of the truck and went away.
That was it.
My keenful watching was over. Why did the truck decide to come at this specific time today? On the other days, I never saw the truck but today, I saw it. Why did it decide to rob me of the pleasure of figuring out the story of them?
I could have assigned a nice story with some rich context and background but I was robbed of it. Now I have to hunt for other regular people who stick to their routines and not have a satisfying conclusion so I can create my own story for them.
There is some comfort in trying to figure out the story of strangers. There is a better comfort when assigning your own story to them with your mind.
Brought to you by my Nightmares
I have written down every detail I could remember from this one. This nightmare stuck to me the most and also from many of the frightening nightmares, I remember this very vividly.
I made sure I remembered all the details by going over them again and again while trying to sleep because I wanted to write this down. I have been thinking about writing my dreams for a while and this helps.
Sometimes, I think by fixating over these details over and over, the nightmare would come back but it never has. Instead a new one comes every night.
I have put names of the people who were in my dreams by their starting and ending letter of the name in “quotes”.
It starts now…
The dream starts by I boarding the metro to a destination. When I stepped out, it seemed like I was in China Town. I figured so because of the atmosphere, the buildings, the unknown language and the markets. The strange thing was rather than expecting to find what one finds in China Town, I found that it was markets of Harry Potter instead.
The town was abandoned. I was alone. It seemed like some thing out of an apocaplyse but with everything still managing to look fresh.
Each store was a theme related to Harry Potter and this one particular store caught my eye. I guess it was a cafe and outside the entrance were the statues of Harry, Hermione and Ron pointing their wands casting a spell at the store. It was an interesting sight for the eyes.
An unknown sense of cold filled the town and I knew I needed to get out. I felt this dread within. I tried searching for a way to get out. I walked back and forth and around to find a way out.
I don’t what happened next in the dream but now I was at the metro. This metro had connections to the entire world and could take me anywhere. I saw the metro rush behind the glassed doors carrying passengers or something else. I am not sure anymore.
I went down to the platform to ask someone for help and I got helped. I needed to get to Burjuman, a mall in Bur Dubai. I did not know what for, all I knew was that I was headed there.
I stood on the shaking compartment and proceeded to look out at the views outside. It was different but appealing. I saw buildings achieve various architectural feats. Among the many buildings, I saw this one building have the most beautiful stained glass allowing various colours to be seep into the glass building. Those stained glasses had pictures that told stories. Sadly, I did not know what they told.
Now, I was at the airport with my mom and we were in a lounge. This lounge seemed like it was meant for people travelling in an elite class. The lounge was spacious and it had red floors and golden curtains hang. The place gleamed.
There were many tables and six chairs surrounded each one. It was the most fanciest and sophistcated place I have ever been in.
I don’t think I was in the right attire for this atmosphere.
Myself and my mom walked down this big lounge and we find our old neighbours seated at the table right in the middle. It was the mother “M.Y” and her daughter “M.A.L”. It looked like we all were having a jolly time, with choclate mouse on the table for all of us to dig in.
Out of nowhere, this Malayali actor Suresh Gopi comes and decides to sit with us. He sits next to me.
There were 6 chairs at the time, two taken by mom and myself, two taken by the other mother and daughter and one taken by the actor. The other chair was not taken. For some reason I do not rememeber the sixth chair being there but I knew it was. My gut says so.
Suddenly, I find the actor and myself sitting on my chair. I was sitting on a very tiny space of the chair and I was half hanging out but somehow I managed to sit just fine and then numbers of the chair reduced from 6 to 5. I frankly don’t understand the logic of this.
There were 5 occupied chairs but how was the actor still in my chair if the fifth chair were occupied?
The space seemed much smaller and more intimate. I started to panic and with my heart racing out of my chest, I rushed from there.
I did not know where my legs took me but now I was in a small movie theatre hardly with 30-50 seats in it. I saw four of my old high school friends, now who I no longer keep in touch with.
“T.L and J.E” stood on the right side of the theatre while “M.A and A.I” stood on the left. They had concerned looks on their face while watching me break into this paranoia.
I broke down on the stairs. I knelt down and remained there saying to them that I was convinced that I was in some sort of experiment, being controlled, being watched. I was convinced the whole world was in on this. It felt as if I was in a psycholigcal thriller. I was missing the bigger picture, the bigger lie.
Those four people stook there trying to tell something, something in the lines of “what you are thinking is not true, it is nothing of that sorts.”
I was on the main stage now, in front of the big screen, down on the floor. As I rushed towards the door, I found the joker stand. This joker looked different. This joker took the form of Milley Cyrus, a rather frightening version of her. Her hair all tangled in knots, pale white skin, colours of green and purple bled on her face and in her hair. She looked into my eyes viciously with meaning.
In seconds, I found myself spring upright, mere inches away from her face and then I saw what terrified me the most. Her eyes sewn shut. I could see the black thread stitched in and out of her eyes. Her eyes opened.
I was now a few feet apart from her and the Joker. This Joker was now the Joker I was used to seeing in movies. The Joker played by Heath Ledger and then beside him stood that being.
I do not know if you know this, but there is this black board above some of the movie halls that show the movie they are about to play or the ongoing movie in that hall. That board appeared above the movie screen and showed the title “The Joker’s Naughty Sister.”
I was watching all of this behind my computer screen, watching the other me. It felt like I was watching a movie but it was not. I knew that being beside the Joker was me. This connection was personal and intimate. I felt it.
Then I screamed
I screamed for my mom. I called her name out loud. It was as if a demon was being exorcised right out of my body. My mom came by my side and comforted me like always.
She was used to these nightmares of mine. I have them almost every single day and in every single day, I cry out for her name. Most of the nightmares, I do not remember what happened but this one, I did. I do not know why.
Every nightmare, I scream for my mom and in some of them, I wake up in terror. I do not know why I get these. I wish I knew.
I tried going back to sleep but the moment I shut my eyes, I saw the stitched eyes looking back at me. Every time I wanted to close my eyes, instead of seeing darkness, I saw those eyes.
So I opened my eyes out of fear every once a while to get that image out of my head and then I slept.
I have these pictures and depictions in my head on how different sceanrios could take place.
Some of them are confrontations.
I am not entirely good at confrontations or voicing out something that really bothers me. For half of the time, I ignore it and for the other half of the time, I devise plans on how I could get rid of them or do a mental confronation in my mind.
Not only confrontations, but also pointing out things that people do wrong to me and to people who do it.
Mostly I have been quiet in some of the situations and in others, I do speak out what I feel and think when I feel that I cannot bear it or when I come to a breaking point, or when it affects others.
With some people, it’s not worth it and it is pointless
With some people, it’s hard
With some people, I just go with it
I tend to think about what the others would feel when I would speak out my mind against them. At times, I simply can’t muster up the courage to do so. I am scared and afraid.
So what I do instead is I imagine how it would all go down in my head. In my head, I realese the fury and the rage that I contain. I go to the extreme. That’s what happens when you keep it all in.
This thing that I am doing, I know it’s not healthy and I should speak up. But I feel that for most of the times, my argument and the situation that I am in is simply pointless and not worth a confrontation. It’s petty and silly. In no way, shape or manner, does my self get destroyed but yes, I do obsessively think about it but also I feel that it’s not worth the fight and the argument.
I really need less of that because my whole life has been filled with impending doom and sadness of the past.
But for the ones that I know and feel would take a serious toll on me, I confront it. This would cause certain friendships to break, families to fight or cause a rift. But at the end, removing the toxic effects are worth it.
I not only have confrontations with the world but also with myself. I confront every aspect, every mistake, every thought, feeling and action. I obsess too much on those thoughts at the night and it keeps me awake for a long time. So, I put myself to sleep by either loosening myself into a world of fantasy that goes on in my head or I slowly succumb to the countless damaging thoughts.
But in my head, confrontations do have it’s appealing yet damaging aspect.
This world of mine is a beautiful treasure kept in hiding.
Enrooted in me.
In my head, is a place that I can control every factor, starting with the environment, the person and how I can let it move on. That is one of the most splended and beautiful part about our minds and our imagination. We are the sole owners of something so powerful and delicate. That creative process is the most wonderful aspect and immersing into it is a whole other level of high and addiction. Inside my head is a favourite place to be.
One sets out to create a puzzle, falls deeper into the complexity and into the endless void. It really is a wonderful feeling with break taking moments.
I wish I could be trapped in that space forever. Locking myself in my own stories. Living through the creations and of my mind. Locking my memory of ever creating this world, so that I have no recollection of what’s going to happen, but my world knows. I might make choices that would alter the creation of my story, but for a fact, I know that I will enjoy it and know what to do. I want it the easy and the hard way. I want my choices to be given it to me the easy way but I also want that challenge and pain. It’s a habit that I learnt from my life here in the real world, a habit that reality taught me. I have thought through it all, but I feel that it still lacks a flare, a flare that I can’t pin point to.
I have designed my world accordingly to every desire, dream, challenge, pain, hurdle and also some deaths balanced with the proper mixage of my dark thoughts. I have created multiple worlds, story lines, choices and characters that fit and suit my story. I can jump from one story to an other. My worlds consisit of the ones that I read in books, watch everywhere, listen to and want to experience.
My hidden desires and wishes have always been in me and I have always had the chance to go and do something about it in my world.
It is a world that is so beautiful and extraordinary. A world where all dreams come true. A world to escape into. A world that will always be in the works of making and accomdoating to myself and the changes. A world that would forever change the way on how one lives their life.
It’s a hopeful world, too beautiful and perfect to ever become a reality.
“It would forever become a world that will only cease to exisit in my mind.”
It was probably meant to be that way since the beginning.
If not, this world would not have existed and I wouldn’t have had the chance to enjoy every minute of my creation.