I drive a black Lincoln SUV that I don’t own yet.
Things are so clear, I remember the license plate- 7DQT570.
I wear a white and pink top that I don’t own yet.
My children are both in infant seats, but they are six years apart.
They are crying like babies, but both can whine like teenagers.
I turn back to check on them, and the phone rings, I press ignore.
I take a left turn on a familiar street, and that’s it!
The SUV tips over. I hear loud thud. I hear screams. I feel the pain. I feel metal cut through me. I bleed. With a sharp pain in the neck and arm, half of my body slides through the windshield of the SUV.
The SUV has rolled over to the side of the street and there are pink, yellow and white flowers.
I open my eyes, and I see the children standing outside, both now looking like teenagers.
I hear sirens in the distance, but it fades, like the image of the people standing in front me.
I hear my phone ring again, I know who is calling, but I can’t move my fingers to reach the phone.
I want to say something, but my mouth goes dry and I close my eyes.That’s where the dream ends, and I wake up to life with a dry mouth and severe pain in my right arm. I get a drink of water and try to sleep while the images of the recurrent dream keep flashing like pictures of a crime scene. The next morning we analyze my dream over a cup of coffee. A drive to nowhere, because the Bohemian wants to break free. A black SUV because the cello next year wouldn’t fit in the trunk of my car. Two little children, because in my mind they will always be needy and whiny. It tips over, because two months ago, on the same spot, my co-passenger had hit the gear narrating an incident animatedly while I was turning left. I had lost control of my car, and luck was in my favor that I was able to stop at that curb where pink, yellow and white flowers grew. I feel the pain because I sleeping on the side that I have carpel tunnel. Dreams are a reflection of your reality, dreams are a reflection of your hidden desires, he says. I agree, the desire is to find a closure for a lot of things, the desire is to finally let the heart find it’s way, but such is compulsiveness, it’s hard to let yourself be. The hats rule over the heart.
I am driving to nowhere metaphorically too.
On a cold February night, I began writing my new novel, a historical fiction. Twenty five thousand words flowed on a word document, dancing with joy, to find a place of their own after struggling for space in my head. The finish line was almost visible, but then I decided to get lost in the fog and lose my vision. To clean up the clutter of alphabets, to organize the thoughts, and to edit those mistakes I made, it’s taking forever. I am not going to blame the ‘mundane’ of the life for clouding my ‘magnificent’ though. I am not going to label myself a quitter either. I know I will do it, one fine day, when I feel inspired enough, when I feel challenged enough, but somehow today is not that day.
While there is no beginning or end in view, here is a milestone, a random paragraph from the story I am writing. Just like my writing, she is on a road to nowhere, with no end in sight, beginning long forgotten.
I will never forget who I was, and I will never become who I am reduced to be. In between both the identities, I will find a world that will bring happiness to me in its own way. When I was born, there was a purpose for my life. When I opened the door that day and gave my hand into his, I was reborn again, and there should be another purpose to my life. There is hope, there will be peace and there will be victory. Everything has happened for a reason. Hopefully, good reason.
Today is the day to enjoy the drive to nowhere.
To start several projects simultaneously.
To give them the choice to pick their own tempo.
To let them draw their own finish line.
Today is to derive happiness in marking a milestone.