In the Living Room

DREAMY BOY - Part 3/9 – In the Living Room

I get sucked into the halo and enter into the third level of my dream.

I visualize myself within an air conditioned living room, sitting squatted on the floor in the defecation posture. On my left sits a man in his late thirties, sitting there with just his underwear on and slouched into a tattered, fake leather sofa with his left hand fiddling with his wares inside. He goes on with his business shamelessly and I realize that he cannot see me. I am invisible.

In front of him, is a small, circular and shaky glass top Teapoy holding a partially filled whiskey glass, a bottle of Glenlivet and a small bowl with some roasted and glazed nuts in it.

Around him are walls adorned with crayon artwork reminiscent of those innocent and sweet little nothings scribbled by a toddler. I realize that it is late in the night and note that the room itself is dimly lit by a lone floor lamp, the main shaft of which is broken and held together by masking tape.

The man stares agape at the two elliptical shaped LCD televisions right across and mounted on the wall, one beside the other, which, including this man are the only wares in that room, that is not broken or distorted.

Both screens display long forgotten events from the man’s past life. As the two flicks roll on simultaneously, the man turns his head from left to the right and back in near synchronized frequencies trying to catch up with the two stories that unfold concurrently.

I sit there squatted, just like those Pathans do as they ogle at those bikini clad girls on a family beach in Dubai. 

My head sways from the right to left and back, looking first on to the story unfolding on those two oddly shaped television sets, that tell tales of pure love confronted with brute and immature haughtiness and secondly at the expression change on that man’s face as he is made aware of his mistakes decades later.

As he watches them conclude realization strikes and he bangs his fist into the cushion, shakes his head and mumbles “That should not have happened. That’s not correct. No. That’ is just not correct!”