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Dream Chronicle 1

I've been toying with this idea for s about "chronicling" the dreams that are best remembered..who knows someday they might begin to make sense ?
In many of my dreams ,I ve seen my self in totally alien someone else's family,watching over a regular every day scene, I can recall alarming details of the people, their outfits,their names,color of the environment,time of the day or night, and funnily enough as much as I know that dreams are symbolic representations of things/events from the past, none of the things that i ve seen in the dreams has ever occured in my life, or is even remotely close symbolicaly to the events in my life so far...

As an example - I would dream of Mr. X ,his family, his house, his environment in complete detail...without ever having been exposed to anyone remotely named or described like that in my life.

So i ve decided to capture as many such dreams as possible from now on...

February 3 ,2009

The scene - A big two storeyed house,sloping red roof ,large rectangle windows.
Feels like country side, some fields, looks like a small town actually.

The time - Late evening before sunset on a cloudy day, the sun is setting behind the house,

The place - somewhere in Africa,probably Nigeria [i have been there in my early childhood,however,the description above is nothing similar to the environment we lived in]

Scene II - I move into the second floor , see a corridor, with rooms on either side, the scene is now in black and white, i peep into one of the rooms to see some people sitting inside and looking at me with a "I-am-not-surprised" look !

Somebody is saying something to me in the background, muffled male voice, cannot make out what is it about ... that's all I can remember as of now...


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It's 5AM and the clock is late,
the rush to dress up and change my fate,
but the wrinkle is annoying the mane,
and the greys are flaying the vein,
I carry the mirror in mind,
leave the resigned sigh behind.

The train is packed with eyes,
I stand under the strain of lights
the dark skin is brighter,
maybe they'll like me better,
their shampoos leave no clue,
only the fan comes to my rescue.

Waiting for the elevator,
a minty breath drifts over the shoulder,
the noose around my neck chokes
gasps for breath and the heart pokes
the lights are incandescent inside
empty faces on the outside.

The tube-light and the guard flickers
People wearing strange monikers
floating close to the floor
a door opens, the stupor
he sashays along leaving them behind,
my eyes lose him and hope to find.

Clocks go by and the hours shiver
the cardigan shrugs off and the  lips quiver
a sudden surge of reason, cold air ,
aimlessly slides off my ruffled hair
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