Hey

Hey!

When I woke up this morning, I was in a strange mood. Yes, I had slept till late and well well well there was this bizarre dream that I woke up with. Is it not strange that people we have known in the past visit us sometimes in our dreams, especially when you thought those people were forgotten or were no longer important to you the way they used to be. Anyways, this is the analysis that I am doing now. In the morning I was smiling. I smiled to myself and wanted to call X who I saw in my dream. I did not really debate whether to reach my phone and dial the number but for an instant I almost decided against calling up. Thinking that I could rather summarize my emotions into a piece writing than calling up. That is because words do me more justice when I write them down. Otherwise in a hurry to express myself I often speak what I did not intend to.. So my dream could become a poem or a story. ... I do not know when I abandoned the thought of writing or simply put moved on from the writer's plane to this normal chatty girl. It was then that i wondered whether call up after a quick shower and may be a breakfast than just right then.

As I did not want to keep mum waiting for me at breakfast I quickly showered and showed up at the breakfast table. After the tall glass of freshly squeezed sweet lime juice and a few soaked almonds I locked myself in solitude. Mom must have thought that I was either feeling too hot given the sultry morning or that I was having a headache. Thats because I generally spend a lot of time with her chitchatting. I do not know how she felt when she saw me unusually quiet and a little lost. When she had goaded me to speak up I just smiled at her. It was then that I had asked her, "Ma, if you know something is bad for you for ex. choclate but you feel tempted to have some, what should you do? Give in to the temptation or forget it?". Since it was at the breakfast table Ma told me that if something would upset my system I should rather refrain. I did not give it too much of a thought, or so it seems like when I analyze the morning conversation.

Inside my room I called up X and mentioned my dream. X did not ask what the dream was like. I somehow felt good about this fact. In the sense that the dignity of my dream remained intact that way. Later, i felt that my ream might not have translated well when i put words to it. It was good the way I had seen it.. like a sequence from a novel that I will write one day.

Cheers,

vid