Dreamer Disillusioned.

The man of my dreams

(Who lives only in them?)

You’re in the shadows to me; I don’t really know who you are.

(Crepuscular, of an ephemeral time)

I don’t really know if your skin is black or white or copper or a blend of all three -

(Not that it matters)

I don’t really know your voice; does it soften in love?

(Raise itself in anger?)

You’re beautiful, kind, funny & everything I ever wanted

(You’re salt & pepper when you feel like it)

You’re an amazing lover: passionate, impulsive, strong

(You crackle like your favourite chocolate)

You’re alcohol – stimulating, stirring, exciting

(Addictive, destructive and causing sickness)

You make me want your child, for the joy of seeing you be a father

(It repels me, your callous, unfeeling heart)

I dream of perfection, an untainted life: you looking on us

(God forbid, our child & me)

With love, with wonder and with calm no one can steal

(Like the painter of my favourite picture)

You listen, you love, and you feel, dearest man of my dreams

(Deaf, indifferent, numb, dear dream man)

The man of my dreams –

(You live only in them!)

Why would people want to know your story? Why will the world care? These are questions that I find impossible to answer. All I know is that I do have a story, like every other person born does, and that I finally want to open up about it.

No, my childhood was not the most difficult ordeal, I was not the shunned book worm in high school, and college was not as hard as many told me it would be. I haven’t gone through life shattering disaster – no one I love has ever died. I have loving parents, I’ve never known poverty or abuse.

But it is this very life, this seemingly untainted, dare I say, perfect life that is causing me pain. For pain is unavoidable on this planet- it’s a way of life, no matter which walk of life you consider yourself from.

I was born a dreamer. I’ve considered my imagination my closest companion since as far back as I can remember. It’s the one place no one can ever trespass – you enter only if I want you to.  I fed it day and night till it grew to be my own personal Frankenstein – it takes enormous effort these days to remind myself that I live outside my fantasies. That the real world is not painted bright yellow.

The happy life I lead only encouraged this further. There was nothing to burst my bubble for miles around. Then I left home. The place that had cradled and nurtured my dreams reluctantly let me go. Without so much as a warning of what would be unleashed upon me.

I am grateful, though. The impact of collision with the filth and unhappiness in the world would have been cushioned had they prepared me for it. Then began the most valuable, unforgettable journey I will ever be on –  my journey of disillusionment.

It was my destiny. It is now my dream – I was born a dreamer & I now dream of the day I will  find complete disillusionment.

Destiny fulfilled

It probably began with inexplicable pain.

Frantic eyes.

Laboured breath.

Warm, silky, sticky blood gushing out.

Making way.

Announcing.

The moment you arrived, dressed in your birthday best.

Crying.

Inquisitive.

The exhausted life-giver looks around.

Searching.

And, lo!

Your eyes’ met for the very first time.

Locked.

Entwined hopelessly.

For all eternity will that moment remain sacred.

Remembered.

Worshiped, even.

The only moment when everything makes sense.

Valuable.

Crystal clear clarity.

And thus it began, your life, your brief stint in the soap opera of existence.

Born: Dreamer.

Destiny: Disillusion.