Mystery of the subconscious

By Shobhna Aggarwal

Waking up felt great today. And don’t ask me after how long. Not because I would lash out but I really have no idea. The sunrise once again held out arms to greet me like a long-lost friend instead of exuding a blinding aversion to send me into perpetual sleep. I smiled, laughed, and this time, I meant it.

But even more, was the love I felt. That sense of affection to beings hit me as a frisk dart right in the centre. The mirror was my pal again whose light couldn’t implore me to squint my eyes into oblivion. I opened my eyelids much wider to absorb all the beauty that the world beholds. Food, once daunting, now blessed my taste buds. Gradually, flowing down my throat, it provided me closure to a deep quarry inside my stomach. My heart was full again. I waited for warm showers as the clouds burst. It had to be an affirmation from God, it’s a good day!

I didn’t jinx it or I tried not to. Albeit, if confessing that I feel well to my friend counts, then maybe I could’ve tried better. I was almost there. Just one step short and I would have made it up the hill. C’mon, give me a hand, pray and save me from tumbling upon one last loose rock now that I know what a revel zenith is.

My ambitions demand a life unlike this. But, how prejudicial can one day be. I didn’t even spare one. It was until lunch before an excruciating pain pierced right through my abdomen. Retribution for stealing eleven hours to live again. Hark! I can toil hard enough, or maybe I can hold onto the last rock and wait for it to pull me up.

Trust me, it’s dark down there. The black that has hugged my conscience so intimately, has united with what feels like returning home again. But I’m ready to leave, to see another day and witness a merry dawn.

Giddiness has been a staunch virtue of mine. So, it made my head numb. Impute it to the altitude, shall we? It has to be the altitude. Perhaps, it’s not! I can see the ghoul biding its time now, to proclaim the first call for dinner. It’s closing up on me.

Wait! No stop, I don’t mean it. Tell her I regret this, that I am sorry. The vilifying trail of unconscious words filled with rage. I’d restrain it if I could. If she tells me that I can. To turn a deaf ear now, how will she ever justify that? Perhaps, she is used to this. That the apogee is a hallucination far from what I’m destined to get, she knows what I didn’t. My stomach stings still, not that it matters now for I’ve succumbed to a trust fall, hoping to fly as light as a feather instead.

With a blink, I’m swamped into greyer tonalities, hues that ironically are deemed affable.

“Is anyone there?” No answer.

 I am back home.

 I want to sleep.