A Liar's Guide to the Dreams..

In the dead of the night, the dreams come in one by one. They cling to you with soft acceptance, and they know it all..

These are the dreams which leave a note of remembrance. They cling to our tongues like a bittersweet delight.

They feel familiar, though their flavour melts in the mouth... and taste distinctly unusual.


January 24, 2008

Not too Far...

I just realized today that I have been doing things and thinking... Ah, one day I shall look back at this and laugh.

I think I am making memories. Making up the "Good Old Days" which I shall recall when I sit beside another nutter in an old-age home (though I have serious doubts about reaching that age... with my repute I shall probably be long dead).

Anyway, memories. Memories. They are so weird sometimes. You think of something and then Poof! Its there in a flash. Like its happening again right in front of you. And you can't change it. Ever.

You know, I realized that its always the Good Old Days we look to. Even when we are kids, every moment forward is a sort of degradation. Its like, you are yearning from some past memory, a point in the past when you did this or That. I do not know what... but somehow its this insatiable need to be back to a point when you were .... should I call it Innocent? No. Its more... Uncorrupted.

Blake-ian.

I wrote something in my diary three years ago. Its true on retrospect. I promised to myself that there would be a knight in a shining armour for me too. One day, I will be like Rapunzel (without the long hair of course) and someone will help me escape and then take care of me. Now I have found the Knight.

Unfortunately when I peered inside the shining helmet, I found a mirror.

Long walks help. Music helps. This incurable hunger, loneliness... I am like a wolf searching... sniffing... thirsting.... but then, I am too much of a free-spirit to ever settle down with one individual. I shall probably crave freedom after awhile. Love is attached to a kind of confinement, not in itself, but what it entails is confining. That is why being in love hurts so much, because you are constantly struggling with the confinement around you, and you cannot explain how badly it hurts. You only feel the taste of what it does to you.


Oh My God. Please do not tell me I have been spending time to write this. Who reads this anyway? I shall be splendidly cook-y and give recipes for rum balls soon.

6 comments:

SpanishGoth said...

I read it.

And, I am very impressed with what you write.

Music for me always hepls - whether listening to or composing - it helps to quell my anxieties, harbour my frustrations and comfort my tears.

'Love' per se, hurts, but 'being in love' is not quite the same thing.

besos,
SG
XXX

SpanishGoth said...

Bollocks - I can't even spell 'helps'

*retreats into a dark corner*

PI said...

Thank you for your visit and already I see a friend here.

'Long walks help. Music helps. This incurable hunger, loneliness... I am like a wolf searching... sniffing... thirsting.... but then, I am too much of a free-spirit to ever settle down with one individual. I shall probably crave freedom after awhile.'

From my own experience I would say - give it time - it can take decades.

panu said...

spanishgoth - Well, er, I am usually NOT like this. Trust me. I shall be brilliantly funny soon enough. Its just that three in the morning is a time when humour does not really cut the cheese then. And Hunger... Oh Boy, can you not hear the stomach rumble for a bacon sarnie?

pi - oh thats NOT reassuring, trust me. Decades!! Yikes!! My parents will have a heart attack!! They are still arranging my marriage to various men all round me. Damn!!

little boxes said...

i just read it :)
came into ur blog for the first time and m sure i will keep coming bk

panu said...

i hope so. Please do look around for anything you like.... and do comment. Boosts me up immensely.