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Wednesday, April 08, 2009


Sigh. Creak. Silence. Held breath. Silence. Swoosh. Passing shadows. Thumping heart. Silence. Contemplation.

It’s past the middle of the night. My eyes are open but I can’t see anything. Possibly because the quilt is drawn over my head. I have just been woken up by one or more of the several rhythmic but disturbing noises previously mentioned. I am engulfed by the serious possibility that my nightmare might have spilled out of my brains and waiting to pounce upon me as soon as I sneak a peek out of the quilt. I delay the inevitable. I test the waters first by twisting my big left toe. It yields. So far so good. I become a little more adventurous and pose a brave front by taking my arms out from under the quilt. Then I cross my legs. I am keeping up the pretense of a decent man on the quest of finding his elusive but right sleeping posture while secretly getting ready to catch the noisy intruder unawares. But just as I am about to do so, the cupboard goes...


I freeze. I am exposed. It is a reasonably awkward position. I didn’t bargain for it. The image of the curious cat with the dead mouse in his mouth flashes through my mind and is quickly replaced by the image of a bank robber trying to pick the locks even as he is surrounded by multiple police vehicles. I play a corpse by taking short silent gulps of air through my open mouth with almost imperceptible inflating of my chest and/or stomach. Several hours pass.

Every time I think I have gathered enough courage to throw the quilt off, the house offers me unexpected counsel in the form of a grunt or a sigh or a hum to do otherwise. I have reached the point where the oxygen under the quilt has been exhausted. It is a Do-or-die or Do-and-die situation. I choose the latter.

The quilt is lying on the floor. I still can’t see anything. Possibly because my eyes are tight shut. I wonder if it is still possible to feign deep sleep to whoever ghost might be watching over me. I argue that the quilt might have fallen off on its own. Besides, I debate, a lot of people do sleep-walk and the ghost in question must have seen a lot of weirdos in his lifespan. A tangential thought streaks off in my muddled mind leaving a blaze of dazed confusion. A ghost’s lifespan? What am I talking about? I shake my head and smile. My eyes are open. The room has now taken a dull, grey but welcoming form. The moment of grave danger has passed.

New House. New Noises. New Adjustments. I welcome myself in. My invisible housemate will too. Eventually.


Toddler said...

lolz!!! you must have been a sight to behold... i wish it was a vlog. have you ever contemplated working with M. Nightshyamalan ;)

I wish i could also have nightmares but unfortunately i rarely dream, that too lucid ones or perhaps i jes dont reach the REM state and so dont remember any of my dreams.

Annoymously said...

Exciting topic. Ain't it scary? Reminds me of new house moves..nearly 5 of them. shall put down stories, or perhaps over coffee sometime. Mika must've surely heard a few.

Will get my bro to read this - he's experienced the mystery of the sliding quilt many a time :-) and will totally identify with your experiences. Like this insight into the vulnerable you. heheh. And congrats on the new place.

Hope you will now extend generous invites to your bloggerbuds for free stay :)