The Colour of My Dreams

Dreams do not have colours; or so they say! Psychologists believe that dreams are colourless; they are black and white.

I disagree!

My dreams have colours. They have the colour of my joys and fears, of my aspirations and ambitions, of my friends and enemies. They are lighted by the world around me.

When disaster strikes, they are colour of smoke - grey, disturbing, suffocating. When joys abound, they are the brightest shades of the day; like those of the first rays hitting the surface of the calm lake, bringing it alive with a glitter. And when festivities arrive, they take on the magic of changing colours. Nevertheless, at all times, my dreams have colours.

You say you are too tired to dream, to think, to notice its changing moods and shades. I say may be you are right. Maybe it is because I have all the time on hand since my world lost all its colours. It is only in my dreams that my colours come alive.

He Left!

He left! He drove away, leaving her in the middle of the road. He didn't stop; not once! He did not come back for her.

She was new to this city. He was the only reason she had come to this city that she never liked. And now she stood alone, clutching her bag close to her heart, as if that was the only thing that could protect her in this dark moment.

All around she found faces of strangers; strangers who went about their lives with nothing amiss, returning home to their families. The cold air froze her insides. They had had fights but she never expected him to desert her. Invisible maybe, but he would always be around, he had promised. She was wrong; he had lied. He was nowhere.

She peered at every passing car, maybe he'd come back. She checked her mobile, maybe he'd call. She kept thinking of the only other time when he had pretended to leave her. But he had stopped, he had returned. He wasn't heartless. But this time he was really gone.

Words, days, memories came flooding back to her. "I won't be responsible for you, you're coming here of your own accord." She started walking in the only direction she could think of; knew not where she was headed. Traffic sped past her as she walked, lost to the world, alone.