a dream awake

I had a dream today. Or rather, it was a series of images for I had them while I was awake. Is it a daydream then? I couldn’t be sure.

A daydream is a visionary fantasy experienced while awake, especially one of happy, pleasant thoughts, hopes or ambitions

- wikipedia

Based on that definition alone, the ‘dream’ I had however, didn’t seem to qualify. I wish I could illustrate the scenes, but I dread drawing humans. So I’ll try my best to illustrate them in words to the best of my memory.

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There stood a girl, all alone, in a dimly lit room. She was drawing on the bare, grey wall with a piece of white chalk. Flowers… the sun… random objects which came to her mind. Once she completed a picture, she rubbed them off with her bare hands. She did not pay much attention to the ray of light that shone momentarily against the wall before she erased her pictures.

She then started writing big bold letterings on the wall… scribbling layers and layers of words determinedly, as though she was releasing her fears, her anger, her disappointment, her heartache. One over the other, till the letterings became indecipherable... till she was exhausted... till she surrendered.

She rested her left cheek on the wall, not caring if the chalk dirtied her face. She stretched out her arms, palms against the wall. And as she hugged the cold concrete, she started to cry.

The ray of light appeared again. But this time it did not escape her eyes. She whirled around to face the window. The louver was slightly opened, allowing the sunlight to enter. Through her teary, squinted eyes, she spotted a silhouette by the window. Then the louver shut close.

She tried to erase the writings on the wall with her damp hands but her attempts proved to be futile. All she managed to do was smudge them. So she gave up.

Drained, she slid her back down against the wall till her bum touched the floor. She sat quietly, tightly hugging her knees and waited. And waited… and waited.

True enough, it happened again. This time, just as the louver was being lifted, she rushed to the window, desperate to see who it was. She was certain she saw that silhouette again. But the moment she reached the window, it was no longer there.

She gazed out between the louvers, wondering how many visits had gone unnoticed before and why they had been made in silence…

“Was there really nothing to say?” she whispered sadly. She looked up and caught her reflection on a louver.

She looked just like me.