Dream: broken glass

And my saga of weird dreams continue...

I was standing underneath the underpass of the railway junction close to my house. It was night time, which was evident not because of the lack of sunlight but because of the yellowed streetlights that are a trademark of the city at night. I love the hue that it gives in outdoor photographs taken at night. It has rained. The road was glossy and there were few people out. Suddenly someone with diabetes was looking for a medicine shop dedicated to selling drugs for that ailment. For some reason, I seem to know the exact one, and even an alternative one around that area. Of course, I am not surprised over my familiarity with that area, given that I commute using that junction fairly often. 

I think I was waiting for someone, or as I later would realize, from something.

Suddenly it is daytime. Not bright and sunny but cloudy, as it has been for the last few days. I am inside a flat, very close to the railway station. At the back of my mind it is a restaurant, but what I see is an empty flat. It looks like I have taken shelter there. Shelter from what? Then I see myself in one room in that flat and that room closely resembles my old room in our previous apartment. I recognize it especially because of the window, which have those big hazed glass panes. Then suddenly there is a storm outside. All I can see of the storm are flashes of light passing by. Very surreal I must say. It's as if you are put inside a washing machine, only that you are not been thrown around in circles but you can everything around you flashing by so fast that all you can see are flashes. 

I see a boy standing in front of me. The storm passes and there is calm and the boy spits out glass pieces on me. I cry out in protest and realize that my mouth too is full of glass pieces and as I spit out I see blood. But I feel no pain. And then I hear M's worried voice trailing in from the other room, blasting me for standing next to the open window during the storm. I now notice that the glass has broken. 

So damnedly scary

It is the second time that I am walking out of his house by "shouting" at him. The last time (though I came to know about it much later) his mum had come running after me asking me to wait because he was coming to see me off. And today, his sister came to help us make truce. But I nodded my head and walked away. May be it IS true - that I am impatient, unkind, insensitive, rude and everything else that comes in that same list. I don't have the strength to fight the truth any more. The reality which he has been asking me to come to terms with... I think it is time to accept it. But with acceptance comes a moving on. Where will I find my thrust of the 'onward' movement? I feel scared when it hits me... And to be honest, it has been hitting me for quite sometime, may be from the very beginning. Which is scary. But what is more scary is the fact that each time it seems to be hitting me harder and closer home. 

It scares me when I realise that with each passing day I am coming a little closer to losing that belief that I have a place to go to if I walk away from all this now. After marriage that is an option that will be closed to me forever. It's just how I am. It scares me when I see how close I am to getting everything I might have wanted in the last one year and losing everything that I have always feared losing. I am scared of the uncertainty. But what I am most scared is to admit it to someone that I am scared. I have never done that. I have always braced myself against that one thing in the face of all odds. Most importantly, I have been scared worrying what might befall someone else, but never my own. Does it mean I run away from my fears? A lot of people would say something like that, but honestly, or at least consciously (for one does not know the matter of the unconscious), it is not so. Is that why I spend so much time just staring at me... into my own eyes for a long time? Is that my way of silently confronting the truth?

I have a ruinous tendency which I had noticed before but is becoming obvious only now -- that when something beautiful is happening, there is this strong (sometimes overpowering) urge to destroy it all. A perfectly made sand tower being suddenly kicked out of its beauty by its very maker. May be it had something to do with the sand itself. They say sand castles are for the momentary. As soon as the moment passes, as it is the nature of all moments, the voice inside convinces the head to listen to the heart, which is craving to destroy it all. I get the best of opportunities and yet I let it lie waste. Or as I just said, I ruin it with my own hands. 

Everything around me is just so damn scary.