I close my eyes and I’m back in that room. The curtains, dark brown- almost muddy- from the neglect, cover the windows on both sides of the room. Sunlight creeks in from one little gap in between the curtains; it falls in front of me, but I don’t notice it much. The room, dimly lit, doesn’t have much in it, I see a fan above me- not spinning anymore, I see shelves stacked with books but the labels on them are blurry- they aren’t important to the dream I suppose. I’m on a bed, but I am not lying down. I am sitting; I am sitting still. The bed has grey sheets, the sheets are messy, maybe, I was sleeping here a while back.
I notice the room more carefully, the walls are all painted grey and there’s a picture on the wall- just one. The picture, it’s very dark but not blurry- it’s in clear focus. The hands holding my head finally let go of their grip; sweat drips down from my hair, slowly to my chin- forming a pool right beside my feet. My eyes- wide open- now look on at the picture hanging on the wall; I see somebody, but I do not know whom.
The person is alone, and I see no expression on his face. It is as if he is staring back at me, gazing into the labyrinth I have created within myself- much like the frame in which he is stuck, I have imprisoned myself. It is as if I am gazing into the deep chasms I have folded myself in, ones that I cannot navigate out of. I did not create a world of endless grey skies, I have created a world with no sky at all- and in my creation, I am the sole inhabitant- jettisoned from my home to dwell in the purgatory I have created for myself.
My eyes remove themselves from the picture; I do not understand why I am back in this room again, I do not understand why there is a portrait of somebody that I have never met and why that is the only thing in this room that is in focus.
My eyes wander frantically in their sockets. For the first time, I notice that this room doesn’t have a door. I am stuck and I do not know how to get out. I don’t scream for help, I don’t think anybody is out there, I did not have the luxury for that thought.
I am sitting on this bed, my head falls down on my hands again and I am numb. I don’t decide to get up, but I find myself standing; my hands to their sides- splayed out. My gaze turns upwards; I am looking for a way out.
I notice the white ceiling fan- the only thing in this room that has a vibrant colour- almost as if it were calling me. I notice my left hand gripping something that wasn’t there before. My hand throws itself upwards- the rope falling across the fan and on the other end.
Breathing… heavy breathing…. Not anymore. I have found… my way out.
I notice the room more carefully, the walls are all painted grey and there’s a picture on the wall- just one. The picture, it’s very dark but not blurry- it’s in clear focus. The hands holding my head finally let go of their grip; sweat drips down from my hair, slowly to my chin- forming a pool right beside my feet. My eyes- wide open- now look on at the picture hanging on the wall; I see somebody, but I do not know whom.
The person is alone, and I see no expression on his face. It is as if he is staring back at me, gazing into the labyrinth I have created within myself- much like the frame in which he is stuck, I have imprisoned myself. It is as if I am gazing into the deep chasms I have folded myself in, ones that I cannot navigate out of. I did not create a world of endless grey skies, I have created a world with no sky at all- and in my creation, I am the sole inhabitant- jettisoned from my home to dwell in the purgatory I have created for myself.
My eyes remove themselves from the picture; I do not understand why I am back in this room again, I do not understand why there is a portrait of somebody that I have never met and why that is the only thing in this room that is in focus.
My eyes wander frantically in their sockets. For the first time, I notice that this room doesn’t have a door. I am stuck and I do not know how to get out. I don’t scream for help, I don’t think anybody is out there, I did not have the luxury for that thought.
I am sitting on this bed, my head falls down on my hands again and I am numb. I don’t decide to get up, but I find myself standing; my hands to their sides- splayed out. My gaze turns upwards; I am looking for a way out.
I notice the white ceiling fan- the only thing in this room that has a vibrant colour- almost as if it were calling me. I notice my left hand gripping something that wasn’t there before. My hand throws itself upwards- the rope falling across the fan and on the other end.
Breathing… heavy breathing…. Not anymore. I have found… my way out.
