Monday, December 7, 2009

on borrowed memories and expectations

I woke up and I didn’t know what time it was. My first impulse was to reach for my phone under my pillow but it wasn’t there. That was when I realized I was in a different bed. I got up and looked around. Everything was bathed in light. The windows were open as the wind played hide and seek with the curtains. It was so beautiful. There weren’t any shadows where secrets or doubts could hide.

The bed shook a little and I realized I wasn’t alone. I turned around and the sight of you took my breath away. The sun shone on your face and your bare chest. Although you were asleep, I could’ve sworn you were smiling. I sat beside you and I kissed your cheek. Good morning.

Good things never last. Like an overexposed photograph, the room started to fade away. Everything was engulfed in a sea of white. I tried to hold on to you, to us and to everything we had in that room but I couldn’t. Suddenly, I was awake in my own bed in my own room. I became aware- a little too aware of my consciousness. In comparison, I felt like I had just lost everything. It pained me to know that you were not beside me.

The dream was a moment borrowed from a future memory- one that holds no certainty, I know. I closed my eyes again hoping that the dream would come back but it didn’t. And though I tried to keep them at bay, just like that an expectation is born.

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