The candle is used up, the flame was shaking and was becoming short as the last bit of wax is being sucked into the ever hungry flame; A shadow waved, disfigured and finally dissolved into the darkness which followed. Writer was so engraved in the deep thoughts that he didn’t noticed anything which happened around him in the last couple of minutes.
Words began to dance in the depths of the night and began to flow into his dreams, his past, his writings, ploughing it’s way into his dreams. Well pasts do play parts in the dreams, right? After all they are the manifestations of unsatisfied past. Dreams can’t be built on future. It’s foundations should be in the forgotten depths of the past.
From within the words a shy little boy came forward, nervous in every bit. He wasn’t afraid of anything, but just uncomfortable around anything new. He was not fighting it but was taking it slow – in his own way. There were better pastures out there but he decided to stay as he liked one little bird out there. A smart, active bird, which woke up early and whistled. Tales of tailer’s of the nature which tailored her beautiful yellow and black quills of hers. He hoped to hear that lovely whistles for ever. However what does a hope mean in the intricate dream which lasts only a second. It bursts. Faster than it sprouted. And you never remembers your dream after you wake up, right? But can the hope stay… ? “No, it can’t” – told the time.
A cold breeze woke him up. He was feeling cold, but twinkle of new born hope could be seen in his eyes – One black, one brown – even in this darkness. You have to look close for that. Not if you wait. He took another candle and lit it. A dash of light filled in the room. A yellow, orange, red light. Which became brighter and brighter as moments passed. He almost decided to not write again, but the new found brightness in his eyes made it a point otherwise.
He looked the world through his black eyes, he was grown accustomed to that in the last few months. It make him believe that it’s indeed worth staying in the neverland. It showed him the tigers, the stars and reason to stay afloat the meaninglessness of everything else in the neveland. Then one day it said: “enough of seeing the world through me”. Was the eyes conspiring. After all the are so close. Just separated by a bridge.
He began seeing the world through the brown eye. One which he rarely used before. The visuals were the same. Well almost all of them. He found the warmth and became engulfed in playful fights. He had two cats. He loves both his eyes. Who doesn’t. They are jewels. Then he wanted to name one of them. Black eye just doesn’t respond. Should I force it to take a name… He wanted to, but resigned… After all they are jewels. Not even a scratch will be tolerated. What will be the brown eye’s decision… !
He is in deep sleep. The candle burned, filling light in his single room while one candle died and another is lit up in his dreams…. Life is a dream. We dreams in the dreams. New hopes are born in the dreams. Do they stay afloat above the dreams as a lotus in the lake? No one knows. Because everyone is, in the dream.