I woke up to the sound of rain thudding on the roof. It was going to be a lazy Saturday morning. I just wanted to cosy up in the bed. I still got up from bed, reluctantly, to get my dose of caffeine and cherish the rare rain.
The coffee freshly brewed, I set out to the porch in my compact two-bedroom apartment that overlooked the junction. I set the coffee on the small table in the porch and sat on the swing.
Rain has calmed down to a drizzle. The sky, however, retained the color of dreary gray shattering the hope of sunlit morning. It was going to be cozy, lazy day.
Men in rain coats and women in umbrellas hopped on the road to avoid the puddles formed on the path due to the unabated rain the previous night. A man in a black suit muttered curses as a car splashed dirt on his fresh khaki pants. A trio of girls waiting in the bus stop a little further from the intersection giggled when a charming young man in a red t-shirt smiled at them. Even as I smiled at the boon of adolescence, my mind drifted to a place far away.
In the midst of the forest of purple flowers and trees with blue leaves, there was a fortress built of black stones. The black castle gleamed in the morning sun. The tower was so high that it skimmed the clouds. It reminded me of locked towers and of magic that I had read only in books.
I immersed myself in the beauty of the land oblivious to the rider in a black cloak on the back of a white horse. The air grew heavy. The ground I was standing on resonated with the each step the man took.
I turned. I looked.
A rogue prince or wizard, I could not be too sure. For his demeanor was that of someone who was used to wielding power.
His face was sculpted to fault. His eyes were black. As black as the stones the castle was built of. His hair was a black waterfall that glided on his bare sun kissed shoulders. The lush cave of his mouth below the narrow nose curved into a smile. His eyes did not.
I was mesmerised.
My pulses hummed as he came closer, his black cape trailing. I took a step back. He seemed to say something that sounded like my name in a voice so husky, almost like a whisper.
He called out my name again. I moaned. He smiled again.
Then I felt the push from behind. I got up with a quick jolt just to see my father frowning at my drooling mouth. Even as I was faced with reality, I continued to yearn for that time in the realm of purple flowers and trees with blue leaves. I cannot help but yearn to understand the meaning behind the smile.
Some dreams are sure worth dreaming!