It was an ancient room. So ancient that it reeked of decomposed wood and mildew. But there was a grandeur that was hard to ignore. I stepped inside and eased off the backpack to one of those ancient chairs. I wanted my matchet. Furrowed on one side and smoothly blunt on the other. The ogre that bathed me in blood.
And I couldn’t find it in the backpack. All that was there was a tiny swiss knife. This was wrong. Very very wrong. I needed the matchet for I knew I wouldn’t survive a minute without it. I could use my power of imagination to find that matchet buried deep inside the backpack. But something revolted against the idea. I was slipping out of the dream and I fought against it. A few seconds of intense focussing found the matchet. From its rough leather sheath, I took the gleaming metal out and quaveringly admired its sheer power to decimate for a while.
The holster held the sheath close to my heart and the savage was ready for carnage. My folks were waiting outside. There were horses or something. I didn’t care. Hormones screaming for butchery, I rode into the woods.
And they came. A white guy with a sword. The matchet quivered inside the sheath. Before I knew, it came to life in my hands. A flash, it chopped his hands and severed it from his body. Leaving behind the bloody hand still clinging to the sword, I rode on fiercely, slicing the thick silence with an ear-splitting scream.
Then came a black guy with a spear. There were no horses anymore. It was a clearing, just him and me on foot. The sinister forest watched in a grim stillness. Matchet was becoming restless in the hands, aching to discerp him to a thousand bloody shapeless masses. In an oddly swift move, I was on him, the edge of my matchet closing in to his eyes, ready to gauge it out. And he suddenly started laughing hysterically. He was enjoying me over him. Looked like he was gay. As I stepped back wincing, there was a brilliant flash and dazzling brightness all around.
I was back in the ancient room with a slender tall girl clad in glaring white. She said, “shree, there is too much violence inside you”. She took my hands in hers and it was soft as quill. I couldn’t look into her eyes which seemed to pierce into the darkest depths of my mind. “Come with me and I shall lead to your bliss”, she said.
And suddenly, I was in Bombay, sitting inside a cosy metro train, watching slums speeding past me. After whizzing through myriad landscapes and a hundred thousand lives, it came to a halt near an ocean and there she stood, in a casual black attire that contrasted her blinding white skin. I followed her to a group of stand-up comedians chuckling stupidly amongst themselves. Smiling enigmatically, she said “this is your bliss”.
The crazy landlord was rapping on the door, its despicable sound resembling the irritating hammering on a construction site. “bhaiyya, aaj Office nahi ja rahe hei kya? Do baj gay...”
Hell, no. I thought. No office today. I’ll read interpretation of dreams instead.
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Too many action and fantasy movies. And too much involvement in fubar’s blog. I’m getting sick of it.
The fake Freud in me identified Apocalypse Now, Lord of the Rings, The Last Samurai and Inception. And by the way, the title was to mislead porn hunting imbeciles. Sorry to disappoint. You can try 3gpking, mikesapartment or naughtyamerica.
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