"Now I dont know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming I'm a man"
You wake up with thoughts still drifting in your mind like snowflakes on a snowy night. Even before the eyes get used to the light creeping in from the outside world , cognitive faculties take over and you are back in the world of reason, the world of cause and effect. It seems as if the subconscious self has just passed the batten to the conscious being in you. You try pondering over the journey you have just undertaken . Even before you can put the pieces together you are speeding through the bright boulevards of daytime. Those dim alleys of night are fading fast.
You pause for a moment and try to recall but your senses are beckoning. The road ahead seems long. You relegate these thoughts to the backyard and start running the race against time, clutching the arms of rationality. Afterall, you have to reach your destination before the road becomes tortuous and dark. You meet people at the crossroads. They have their own races to run. You sprint, leap, stumble, manoeuvre yourself. Speculations, reason, coherent patterns amidst chaos engage you. Gasping for a breath of time you zip past at a feverish pace. Arms holding tight to that reason of yours just like a child clings on to his father. You dont want to get lost. The lap draws to an end. Darkness permeates. you can see the glimmering ribbon that awaits you. With arms in the air, chest heaving you reach the finish mark. Exhausted but contented you sag down. Is it the end? No. It's a mirage, nothing but a mere portal. The batten has been passed.
You wander in the labrinthine corridors of subconsciouness. No one to show you the way. No reason, no rationale, no sanity, no prefixated aims. You meet people who walk a step or two with you. You visit places where you have the liberty to spend a minute or two. Sometimes you jump on the bandwagon of your whims and fantasies. It's a different kind of race. Infact it's not a race, rather it's a "who'll find it first" contest. It's a realization. You make a way by walking it. It's your way. It has got your footprints imprinted on it. Unbridled by any preconcieved notions, inspirations or influences you traverse like a lone traveller.
You do come across a person. He resembles you in a strange sort of way. He seems shy and definitely not as strong as the reason that led you. He speaks a cryptic language. You feel that you can understand what he utters. The scene is painted in hues of red and orange. Strange sounds from a different world resonate. It's the confluence of two worlds. You want to know what your alter ego wants to tell you. You clutch his arms and walk, straining to listen. Oh! the noise is just too much. The person's form dissolves in thin air. Light filters through. Both your hands are clenched. One of them held on to something fragile and the other holds on to something strong and determined.
The lights have become blinding, noise jarring on your nerves. You experience a tug.
You run.
