My work place is finally close to my life place. May be half-an-hour if I walked, but more assuredly 11 minutes on the subway. For the last 3 years, while I commuted to work for an hour to my old work place, I hated waking up early to make it in time. I hated cutting my sleep short - din't know by how much - but it was short. As if somebody cut short my dream, while I was making it in my sleep.
One fine sleepy night, unbeknownst to me, I learnt to connect my dreams (like stitching film reels together). I stitched my dreams as a quasi-reality-fictional-supernatural-futurisitc series of shortcomings, frustrations, angst and despair.
So what happened when my dream of you met the reality of you?
When every single night I had been dreaming of the Sun, why did I always wake up in the morning, and not feel like as if I just had realized my dreams? Why the remorse?
A friend emailed me this morning "Buddy, you can now sleep for an extra 49 minutes:)".
Yes, my old-work-place self would have appreciated those valuable 49 minutes of missed laziness in the bed. It was 49 minutes less of the Sun in a day; the Sun that was not mine.
When you were finally just a week away from moving over to my life place for good, I remember admiring the length of time I had been waiting for you, for this time. It was time to bid farewell to my sad dreams. And despite its nature, I felt sad, I would miss them.
What I had dreamt for all my life, was walking down the airport-international-arrival-aisle. This will be my mortality bound eternal sunshine.
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