I have this freaky habit of falling asleep with my eyes open. I know it's freaky coz I've seen other people dozing off like that, and it's nothing short of disturbing. And you know what else? When you 'wake up' your eyes suddenly shoot up like those junkies who've just shot up a pint (or whatever) of heroin into their veins with their sticky needles.
Well that happened to me today. I was standing up in the train, holding onto one or two hand grips, slouched over, probably trying to pretend the air in front of me was my bed at home, listening to my latest obsession Mariah Carey (go Mimi!)... and then blank... I wake up and my iPod is silent, my eyes wide open in suspicion that someone has noticed this dramatic scene in Gautam's life, but no one has obviously. And then, I remember the dream I had. In that span of what was probably 4-5 minutes, I actually had a dream...about a baby.
Baby: Why do you keep staring at my mother when I cry? You're supposed to look at me.
Me (apparently in exasperation): I look at you because you are the one making a ruckus and your mum is just in my field of vision.
Baby: Well, she feels like your accusing her or something. She's not a failure you know!
Me: I look at you and her like a sheep looks at grass or the occasional gay cowboy....
Baby: Benign. You mean benign.
Mrs. Sheriff: Very good vocabulary is the key to a good romance.
That's when I snapped out of it. The baby morphed into my Grade school English Teacher, Mrs. Sheriff. Possibly the best teacher alive. She introduced Reader's Digest to my life and she taught me flowing handwriting. She gave me so much encouragement. And I thought giving her a Parker pen when I passed out of her class was SUCH a big thing. What a fucker I was.
Anyway, that was such a inane dream. I know mothers feel guilty every time I look at their crying babies on the train but really, the crying never bothers me so why the hell would I judge them? And if it were (bothering me), I know how damagingly insidious babies can be, so I would almost always empathize with the parent (unless the parent was spitting at them or caning them).
And I used the words, "gay cowboy" to a baby....living right on the edge baby. These young impressionable minds.....good on them.
One good thing though: Imaginary conversations are so much better than imaginary lovers.
Why? Coz one sets u up for disappointment and the other doesn't. I mean it's not as if I am gonna expect random babies to talk to me on the street. Which by the way, if they could, would be just an extension to what imbeciles they really are.
I really do love babies though.
Well that happened to me today. I was standing up in the train, holding onto one or two hand grips, slouched over, probably trying to pretend the air in front of me was my bed at home, listening to my latest obsession Mariah Carey (go Mimi!)... and then blank... I wake up and my iPod is silent, my eyes wide open in suspicion that someone has noticed this dramatic scene in Gautam's life, but no one has obviously. And then, I remember the dream I had. In that span of what was probably 4-5 minutes, I actually had a dream...about a baby.
Baby: Why do you keep staring at my mother when I cry? You're supposed to look at me.
Me (apparently in exasperation): I look at you because you are the one making a ruckus and your mum is just in my field of vision.
Baby: Well, she feels like your accusing her or something. She's not a failure you know!
Me: I look at you and her like a sheep looks at grass or the occasional gay cowboy....
Baby: Benign. You mean benign.
Mrs. Sheriff: Very good vocabulary is the key to a good romance.
That's when I snapped out of it. The baby morphed into my Grade school English Teacher, Mrs. Sheriff. Possibly the best teacher alive. She introduced Reader's Digest to my life and she taught me flowing handwriting. She gave me so much encouragement. And I thought giving her a Parker pen when I passed out of her class was SUCH a big thing. What a fucker I was.
Anyway, that was such a inane dream. I know mothers feel guilty every time I look at their crying babies on the train but really, the crying never bothers me so why the hell would I judge them? And if it were (bothering me), I know how damagingly insidious babies can be, so I would almost always empathize with the parent (unless the parent was spitting at them or caning them).
And I used the words, "gay cowboy" to a baby....living right on the edge baby. These young impressionable minds.....good on them.
One good thing though: Imaginary conversations are so much better than imaginary lovers.
Why? Coz one sets u up for disappointment and the other doesn't. I mean it's not as if I am gonna expect random babies to talk to me on the street. Which by the way, if they could, would be just an extension to what imbeciles they really are.
I really do love babies though.
2 comments:
wow, idli wrote a lot while I was away.
I know wht you mean by having a dream or you completely fall asleep for about 4-5 mins and you wake up feeling extremely disoriented.
this is so amusing...
you dreams are the craziest ever.
I think you've tapped into charlie kaufmans collective unconcious.lolz
you must write a wonderfully surreal book full of hard to figure out references and "isms" .
this and the cabbage dream has got to be one of the most creative dreams ever.
The Parker pen thing, I can totally relate to that ...
how ever I totally disagree on imaginery conversations being better than imaginary lovers...
When you are in a long distance relationship it helps keeping you out of sticky situations and the guilt that follows :)
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