Part 4: Ghosts of the living dead.
It was a long time ago. And it really was so long ago that I wish I had the paper I had scribbled it down to give you more details.
At first, I was walking through the cracked desert. So parched that it would take days to quench the earth below my feet and it was a while before I was aware it didn't surprisingly burn my soles though I was barefoot. I could see the light and heat refract off the ground and play tricks with my eyes. A sight of silver pool danced by the line of horizon and a fiery orange burned the sky down, behind the black outlines of the trees.
The hot air whipped past my face, taking the hair away from my shoulders. As my gaze fell to my side, my eyes traveled down to see what I was wearing then: a white ghagra and blouse. My chunni was not in sight and I had no other jewelry on, although my borla rolled over my forehead in the turbulence of the riotous air. That instant, I wasn't the least bit inquisitive that I had ventured out of home in a state of undress and I ambled on without purpose to reach the river of hot silver.
When I reached the desert shores, after which the plains of silver extended, it dawned on me that its no river, but a vast spill of a mercury like substance. Hunkering down, I touched the coating with the tip of a trembling finger while an unknown trepidation washed over me. To my relief, the substance didn't stick to my skin or have any effects on me.
With only a few steps in, I sensed, rather than see a invisible gateway of sorts. My breath hitched in my throat and my pulse quickened hammering against my chest.
Then my hand extended of its own volition. I put out my arm and ripples passed through an invisible film at the seams where my fingers pierced into an other realm. I waited unable to crossover while an inhibition came alive in my skin. Not of where I would be if I were to cross it, but of not knowing what I was leaving behind.
The longer I waited, I felt something cleave inside me. As I stared into the infinite horizon, it was clear a part of me was evaporating as one with the desert fumes. It was the heat from all that I carried inside me, that broke me into two. Perhaps, these were the pieces that had never really fit seamless against each other. More likely, never meant to fit together in anyone's lifetime, let alone me.
After a while, I saw myself as a distortion; a mere haze and yet, I could recognize the person walking away from me as myself. She was I without doubt, but I also knew something had changed that instance of crossover.
My eyes reached the ground a bit later and I observed that I had no shadow then. Tears shook by the brim of my eyes and I still wouldn't cry. Though the loss was incomprehensible, disheartening even at that moment, I looked at her and smiled.
In that dream, I realized I was my own ghost.
Who knew dreams were just as scary as nightmares could be...
Edited by Lahari. - 19 January 2013 at 10:27pm