29 Jul 2013

The tilted moon

Your task was simple. To get as many people out as you can from the place where the moon was tilting into the earth and causing chaos.

It was somewhere in Bangalore, where I was standing with my family, watching the enormous moon in the sky, tilting. I was transfixed when I looked at it, but couldn’t be for too long because the buildings around me were crumbling into pieces. I had made peace with my death which I thought was inevitable because the people on earth couldn’t survive the moon falling on them.

While pieces of it continued to fall, I clasped my sister’s hands and we ran into the subterranean paths. The places where chipped pieces of glass and concrete would not lacerate us as the inevitable approached us with a rushing speed.

I saw you, then. You were guiding people into ship-like structures. Few scattered planes. Herding them like they were cattle. I refused to sit in those structures. They’re of no use; can’t you see the tilted moon? Look at the sky! You gave me a look. A look I’ve now come to recognize as exasperation. Clenching of your jaws, the movement in the nerve on your cheek, the fire in your eyes when you believe I’m being difficult. It is endearing and annoying at the same time.

Will you come with me? I asked.
No. You said.

Perhaps I didn’t need an explanation. The people gathered were already looking lost without your calloused fingers pointing them into the vessels that would deliver them from certain death that I felt rushing towards the entire planet. I feel like I’m in a sci-fi movie, I mused and took my sister back into the underground pathways. I wanted to keep her safe for as long as possible.

The moon did tilt all the way, but I was far too busy hugging my sister tight as the earth I was born into covered us completely.

A year back my doc had diagnosed a benign cyst in my intestine. 

Do you dream? She asked.
Vividly and often. I answered.
Do you remember your dreams?
Almost always. I responded.
Digestive problems often cause dreams. You may want to consider removing it.
Will I stop dreaming so vividly?
It’s likely. She said solemnly. 

My dreams are a part of me just as anything else. It tells me a lot of things through stories…what I subconsciously think about someone, decisions I’ve already made but didn’t verbalize, sometimes just happiness that seems to percolate through every fiber in me for no apparent reason except that I’m in the dream and I wake up with a smile. 

Sometimes these dreams have you. Sometimes they don’t. Few times I’m not there, even. Just the perception of me in a strange land with familiar people. Whatever is causing it, I’m not ready to have them disappear from my every day.

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