I have been reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera lately in my nights. I am in awe with the character of Tereza whose love for Tomas is borne out of fortuities. She does not really love Tomas but loves her love for him. I do not like it when there are other reasons to love a person than the person himself but a strong belief in fortuities sometimes makes life seem more meaningful and aesthetic. So, whatever floats your boat.
I dreamed a dream in the morning today.
My brother and I were looking for some good food in the crowded streets of some foreign country (perhaps Tokyo or Malaysia). He was driving a red scooty and I was riding pillion. Our sister was waiting in the hotel and parents were gone somewhere entrusting us to eating the free hotel meals. But we craved some adventure. Since what an ass my brother is, he kept texting somebody on his phone while driving, almost never looking forward. I was irritated as fuck but I did not reprimand him for being so reckless. I would only yell at him to watch out when he needed to watch out. We finally arrived at a hotel building and we entered the elevator only to see that there was a girl sitting in front of me with a lady. Three extremely restless kids were on the left side, always moving here and there or standing over the seats. Yes, there were seats in the elevator. I sat myself near the door and my brother sat beside me. I wanted to talk to the girl and the lady but I hesitated. Suddenly, we all started conversation. We started introducing ourselves. I came to know that the lady was the girl’s mother and the kids were the girl’s siblings. Two boys and a girl. The lift was going down and the hotel was on some floor above. The lift would stop every now and then and the kids would stroll in and out. The lady was very beautiful. Her skin was glowing white and she wore a red lipstick on her plump lips. She was dressed in various colours and was forever smiling and talking shyly but talking all the same. She was always the first to answer whenever I asked a question. She told me that one of the kids’ name was same as mine, the one standing on the seats. I looked above at him and he looked below at me and we smiled at each other. I turned back to the girl sitting next to her mother. She had let her hair hang loose over her shoulders and she wore orange lipstick, my favourite colour. Her lips were quite thin, the way I like them. She wore blue and white and some other colours as well. She was not talking much but she would never fail to steal a look at me at regular intervals. She asked me how old I am and then I told her my age and my brother’s age. I told her I am 22. When she heard me, she paused for some time, as if chanting the number in her head while she looked sideways at the ceiling sad, as if she was expecting me to be her own age. Then she told me that she was 16, laughing and feeling dejected at the same time. I got sad as well because she looked beyond her age, tall and mature, and I was expecting her to be as old as me as well. We both sat there with our heads drowned in a hundred thoughts and she suddenly said – “I do not want to be depressed.”. A sudden pang of grief hit me. I wanted to tell her looking at her beautiful face – “You can never be depressed. What are you talking about? I am here. And your mother is here. She is so beautiful and understanding. She will never have you be depressed.” But a hand behind me grabbed mine own and started pulling me towards itself. It kept pulling me outside, through the door of the elevator and I started flying as if the gravity had just ceased to exist. My eyes rolled here and there, above and below, to comprehend the present situation but I was out of the world, engulfed by darkness and then suddenly, I woke up.
I realised that her mother had been forever smiling indeed and not taking care of her children who had been running in and out of the broken lift. She perhaps had not been understanding our conversation either and, just pretending to understand by nodding. The girl’s final words hung in my head heavy while I was going through a post-dream phase when we try to piece the dream puzzle all together. I was in love with her, her orange lips, beautiful brown hair jumping over her shoulders and her slender legs. I could see love for me in her eyes as well and that soothed me like a cold drop of water on a burning face. I ached for more. I thought of a silent conversation in my mind with her, something telepathic, where she was sitting beside me in a wooden park bench, her head resting on my shoulder on a sunny day with a clear sky. We were surrounded with green and yellow grass. We both were in love but she was only 16. I told her I could wait for her two years before she was 18 and then we would be together forever. She didn’t say a thing. She just nodded and hugged me tight as if I had just read her mind and said the same exact words she wanted to hear. We both smiled concealing pains we each suffered from. But we felt a huge hope in our hearts and that made the world bearable.
The girl, for a change, did not have a face I had been dreaming for quite a while. She seemed far superior and understanding than the one I had been in love with. She seemed the one I would long to be with forever. And so, I began the search.