by Chaithali Pisupati
My eyes took a minute to adjust to the dull light streaming through the living room window. I shut them and opened them again, looking around to bring myself back into consciousness. A stream of thoughts came rushing into my head: “Why hadn’t my alarm gone off? Was it after 6:00 am already? And, why was I sleeping on the sofa?”
I stretched my hand to the floor searching for my mobile phone and clicked it on. As the sharp light flicker of the screen irritated my eye, I realized it was dusk, not dawn.
Then it came back to me. It was a Sunday and I had decided to take a nap, no, not even a nap, just a shut-eye, the kind where you sleep with complete consciousness of everything around you. Obviously, that had not happened. I was involuntarily knocked asleep and now I was groggy and in a foul mood.
I pulled myself up to a sitting position with a knot in my stomach thinking of the lost hours. I had dreamt of you again, this time after a really long time, after years actually.
In this dream we were chatting, as if we had let the past go, we had let bygones be bygones. You were wearing the brown suit, the one you owned eons back. We were at a wedding, whose I do not know. There was a comfortable intimacy between us which we accepted gracefully, an all-familiar intimacy that had long been ruined in reality. We chatted about life, about details that were not important, about people who were not important. We nursed a drink with an air of casual friendliness that we have never had. We were friends in the dream, the kind offriends who spoke to each other if they crossed paths, maybe even friends who met occasionally.
This was strange, because in reality we have never been friends. I have never known what kind of a friend you are.
In fact, at the end of the dream we had said polite goodbyes and gone our own ways.
It was as if the dream had come to a logical end and so I was awakened by my brain.
I used to dream about you a lot in the past. I used to think about you when I was awake, endlessly. Endless days of just waiting, knowing you would never call. Endless thoughts of sadness, of how easy it was to replace me; endless and hopeless!
Not anymore, though. I am living a full life, a very busy and complete life, then what business did you have to get into my dreams. I was angry with the ability that you possessed to enter my sub-conscious. Who let you in anyway? Why? Why now? Questions that I could ask no one without letting then into my inner most space where my fears lived, a place that even I didn’t want to visit anymore.
Thankful that the room was pitch-dark, I clutched my knees closer. In a pitiful attempt of self-defense, I blamed it on the cocktail of painkillers and antibiotics that I had been taking.
I was ashamed of my spineless will and surprised at my strong memory. How could I possibly still remember how you looked when I haven’t seen you for so many years? Even in the dream I could feel your gaze on me just as I could all those years ago. Your awkward frame, bony jaw and broken nose, the way you lowered your head while raising your gaze… everything was etched in clear detail. I tried to shrug it away with all my might.
I cannot let myself be cursed with these memories all my life. I need to find my way out of this maze. I couldn’t help wondering how you had made peace with the turmoil that I created in your life. Did you ever feel any anger or hate? Or maybe it was a figment of my imagination and there never was any turmoil for you.
It has to be my imagination. I had always wondered how it was so easy for you to let go. Were you stronger than me or did it not matter as much? Or was the life that awaited you so beautiful that you couldn’t wait to shed your past behind?
I tried not to think back on these anymore. There was no point in pushing myself down this rabbit hole.
Guilt pangs tightened in my stomach. This is not infidelity, no it couldn’t be. My heart pleaded innocence while my head refused to accept. A mixture of frustration, anger, and disgust was all I felt!
I walked around the house wondering why no one woke me up. An interruption from this dream would have surely been welcome. Everyone seemed immersed in some unimportant activity with great interest.
Where was he? I found lying on the bed, clutching the remote and watching T.V. I went slowly and sat next to him. “You feel okay?” he inquired. I felt his detached face sense my discomfort. Could he know or was it my imagination? Would he misunderstand? How could I convince him that I hadn’t done anything to bring on this dream? I was now even angrier at this stupid dream and the conflict it created in me.
I replied, “I am fine, just feeling a bit ill. I might call in sick tomorrow.”
“That bad, huh?” He questioned. “Not really, but a day’s rest would be good,” I replied.
I looked around, absorbing the reality. This was my life. I deserved the comfort this monotony brought. I was done with the drama and I really wished the drama was done with me, instead of popping its head when I least expected it.
I rushed into the shower and let the hot water wash away my dream, scrubbing my hair, hoping that the soap suds will clean the fragments of the chatter along with the dirt and the grime.
As I went about the Sunday evening chores with an unnecessary urgency, I couldn’t help but curse into the dark night that someday you would feel as violated as I did today.
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