My Best Place

It is ecstatic, the elaborate air, the green fields, and the lady waiting below a tree for me. I favour a place where I am safe, unlike reality, where a favourite is hard to find. I am lucky to be safe when I am with my eyes closed, when I have a difference with reality

I close my eyes, and I am there, I am there where I am suppose to be. Dreams are nightmares when you see what you don’t want to, when you be where you don’t want to. But dreams are dreams when it’s just the reverse. Dreams are the one who get me to a place every night, the place where beauty is endless, where trees stand elegant, and where the chicken could cross the road without being questioned.

I call myself a piece of the white dust, of the enchanted beauty of nature when I get there. I get there with my running feet, pushing back the crystal grass, running towards the tree that’s the same whenever I dream of the safe. I see the roads not entertained by the sons of polymer but with flowers of blue. The sky showering me fired ice, the trees showing me the embroidered way to the violet waterfall.

 Here, I feel safe, I feel peace, as I breathe free, and I walk free from all insecurities, from all dismay. I am scared of waking up; I am scared of losing the heaven that befriends me in my subliminal. A lady with a stunning smile would stand below a tree and would seek me forever and a day; I guess she’s my mother, with her arms wide open. She would call me; embrace me with her golden arms, and with her sharp fingers she would show me the cloudy barriers, of the land that she would say descends from the heavens.

I fear the reality, the truth, which stands so far from this unique subconscious terrain of splendour. Reality is so hideous, the dear Kashmir is no paradise anymore, and the leaning tower of Pisa doesn’t lean gracefully. The beauty which I sense in my dreams is far more endearing than the world I see with my eyes open. Whenever I touch the silver bushes; I feel the fervent hands of Aphrodite on my arms, whenever I drink the water of mauve, I feel nectar being poured on my heart by Zeus. I see the prairie bestowing me diamonds when I own them with my feet. I hear the clouds singing a melodious lullaby, which keeps every dust from waking up, and bothering the eyes of the squirrel that never rests on the golden trees, the trees which lays its branches on me and saves me from the flames of adversity.

The insecurities fear to rush through my blood whenever I am in this place of thrill, the honey bee would not sting me anymore, and the antelopes with green blue eyes would come and seek embracement.  The road ends nowhere, and the rivers are filled with sweet porridge.

The calm air enshrouding me with its blissful aroma; and the saffron birds paint the sky in sync. The sun would never set; neither would it burn me on a hot day. It shone bright and calm every time. I would see the ores being safe down there in earth and not being used for the arsenal, I would see the leaves never getting old, neither the rock losing its form for the sweet despotism of the lilac waterfall. All is quiet and out of harm's way.

I could see a hut being cared by a young man, and a dog looking at the west to seek the shadow of grey. The mud would feel like snow, and the leaves would dance on the tunes of Aeolus. I could look at the sun with pride, it won’t hassle my eyes anymore.

I favour this heaven, I wish I could dream forever, and savour this place till I attain wrinkles on my face. A place where the soil is so true is a pain to lose. A place that gifts divinity on every visit never deserves to shy away from my priority.

My mother would lay down her sharp fingers, and would tell me it’s time. Though never intending to go back, I would hurt a tree by tearing its golden leaf, and snatching a cord of the silver bush, and when I wake up, I see my hands empty, and I see dismay and uncertainty frowning on me...