Search for what is yours

As I sit in the corner of this cafe, sipping my cup of tea, my thoughts waver to the vivid dream of yesterday. The fragments that I can still visualise, call it a blessings of a devil that I can remember, retain, and maneuver myself in the dreams.

The colours come back in remembrance, and I am walking behind a figure. Yes, I remember who, but I’d rather die with a secret than breach it. Oh yes! The figure kept walking, matching pace to pace were my footsteps. The lavender like fragrance cared not, why would it? For it was a shadow, while I belowed and squeaked from the back, asking it, requesting it, begging it to halt!

“Sir, SIR!” Would you like something else?” Asked the waiter, interrupting my thoughts and knocking the door of vividness. I smiled and waived him off.

Where was I? Oh yes, the shadow, the figure kept eluding me, ignoring my pleas, for it was its prerogative and I was just one of the voice(s) in the background. Such was the event, I would not have even known if I was metamorphosised into a shape or figure unbecoming of me.

There was some dampness near my eyes, eh yes! It was raining, heavily infact. The legs pained, cramped, blisters bled the feet but this stubborn soul did not give up, and why should he? He only knows giving.

Yes, there was I, right across the turn as the figure distanced itself further. Jumped and hopped, yes I did, hear me all, the force leaving through the heels, darting across the rain as droplets splattered around but to no avail.

The feet slowed down, crest and trough my heartbeats, with the figure seemingly disappeared. Oh, I remember the vividness.

The face held itself up, looking up in the sky, as the rain splashed itself across my face nudging me, speaking to me.

An unwavering smile swept through my face.

There was peace, a satisfaction, and a realisation.

I was searching it all wrong. The footsteps, the echo, my wails of cry, it was all a call unto my soul to wake it up from slumber. Asking me to search for what is mine all along.

“sir, SIR! Are you awake?” the waiter returned.

“Yes, I am.” I breathed.

by boringbug

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