The wonderwall

Talking of dreams, some are pleasant and in the morning you regret waking up, while some are haunting and you feel safe after waking up in the middle of the night. But there are some nights when you can’t even sleep.

 It’s 5.36 in the morning on a Sunday. Last night was like any other night I went to bed after having all the usual chat with friends and watching my favorite soap, but thinking of her I couldn’t sleep. Yeah I tried everything be it a walk along our hostel’s corridors or watch a boring movie I have already seen thrice, but every time I lie down on my bed and close my eyes my brain without even my permission starts imagining things, things that are too beautiful and pleasant to be described by an immature writer like me.

 A winter’s morning with a light sunshine, fragrance of flower so pleasant that even a blind man who has never seen colors in his life can imagine their beauty. A long, alone beautiful boulevard with a lake on one side and a junior school on the other. The lake so calm that even the sweet voice of birds blended with the giggling of school kids was making wavelets in it. And the thing that made all of this worth imagining and writing was her hand in my hand. The mere thought of walking there at that time with her made my whole night worth sitting up straight.

 As the sunlight started entering my room trying to peep into my blanket I realized that the night is over and so is this open-eyed dream of mine. It’s funny how your brain and heart plays a prank to make a fool out of you sometimes. As I left my bed and stood in the corridor, the sweet breeze once again brought the whole scene in front of my eyes and a smile on my face. I know that this is all just imagination it has never happened and it will never happen but I spent my whole Saturday night lying on my bed and thinking all this and even on this Sunday morning 6.12 AM I am standing in front of my room smiling at something that just ruined my weekend.