Purple Swirl

September 9, 2008 at 11:35 pm | Posted in Dreams | 2 Comments
Looks like kiddy art, I know, but I guess it captures whats going on in the text reasonably well

Looks like kiddy art, I know, but I guess it captures whats going on in the text reasonably well. I hope=.=\

“School. I haven’t entered one since Form 5, and yet that’s where I  found myself. Like, what the heck am I doing here, I thought. And yet it seemed quite right. Thinking back, school was a relatively comfortable place to be, with nothing much to worry about save the usual adolescent nonsense and things like that… right. It was pretty much the perfect place to dwell in a state of suspended, voluntary idiocy, although this isn’t really related.

So there I was in some silly uniform once more. I walked down an unfamiliar stairwell in a daze, engulfed in some sort of fog, which doesn’t really make sense, but this is a dream, so let’s just ignore that. Someone in management asked me to pass on a message to the principal or someone that the bank they’d chosen had gone bankrupt. Here’s to randomness.

I heard some fellas I knew ahead of me talking… they were headed to a movie which was being screened in the main auditorium. Since when did schools have cinemas? I went along. The auditorium was just gorgeous… it was more suited to world-class orchestras… a huge sparkling stage, golden frescoed ceilings, voluminous royal purple stage curtains… even the seats were gorgeous. Is this really a school I’m in right now, I wondered.

It all didn’t matter, actually. The movie was pretty bad. It was worse still compared to the emotional drama going on in my head- she was sitting on my left, her entire upper torso covered in some purple, perhaps with a little pink, floral pattern, that swirled around her skin like a tight dress- I couldn’t even tell if she had any thread on her, or if she was going around clad only in body paint. She rested her head on my shoulder, but as if by some strange compulsion, I leaned away from her, uncomfortable and tense. There I was, with the girl I like, or at least thought I liked, clearly expressing some sort of affection for me, and I rejected it, afraid. Damn.

The next scene was stranger yet. Remember the story called the ‘Invisible Man’? Or at the very least the Kevin Bacon movie? That’s right. For some reason I assumed that character, although I don’t think I achieved invisibility through some silly lab experiment. Also note that Kevin Bacon’s Invisible Man was this horny guy who went around naked and molested the female lead while she was in the shower. Or at least tried to. I don’t remember. Point is, I didn’t do any illegal touching, nor did I hang from trees butt naked, so there’s no point in imagining it (no matter how much you may want to), thank you very much.

It wasn’t really total invisiblility- it seemed more like an absence of spirit, presence, passion in life, or whatever you’d like to call it. Simply put, the ‘invisibility’ was a sort of visual manifestation of all that. Or lack of it.

Somehow I struck up a friendship with a girl- for some reason she was able to see through the shroud around me. She was a lovely, lively girl… every moment spent in her company was paradise- the air was lighter, the wind mild… you get the picture. I wonder if, in her presence, the shroud surrounding me faded, and the world saw me once again… I fell in love with her. How could I not? The only problem was, she had a boyfriend. I was dissapointed in being in a pointless relationship, but I didn’t do anything malicious- no murder in the night, nor kidnapping… no. And considering my… disability, I instead chose to support their relationship, and watched quietly from the side.

The problem with that plan was that the boyfriend was a total idiot. After watching a crudely conceived and horrendously bungled attempt to propose to her fail and throw their relationship right onto a Roulette table, I snapped (ooo) and angrily told him, as she ran down the green hill and he did absolutely nothing, from the tree-branch above him where I was sitting I angrily told him that unless he took her I would take her for myself. And that’s where I woke up. Back to reality, with no painted-purple or nearly-engaged girls to worry about. That’s life for you.



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  1. Hmm. Purple swirl. Someone in particular comes to mind when I read this post. Lively, lovely girl who is attached.

  2. If you’re thinking of her (for the second half), no, it isn’t her. Just some fairytale character my mind made up- but the girl in the first half is someone I know.

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