Sometimes I dream of strange exotic lands, far from any place I’ve ever seen before. My latest tryst was in some Buddhist land where the mountaintops were close.
Mum and I managed a shop, probably a bookshop, but it was my day off, so I sat near the storefront staring endlessly at the desktop. And bam, we’re on top of the mountaintop, that was flat as a plateau, expansive like a town square, and there were numerous terracotta-coloured Buddhist shrines against the vast blue sky that seemed to be at an arm’s length.
It was breathtaking.
But mum stopped to chat with someone, and I lost my patience. I started to run. Which was not the problem. The problem was that I couldn’t stop. I ran down the large broad stairs, gaping at the wonderful landscape around me. I didn’t have my phone to take any pictures, so I ran back to the shop. But I think I took a different route. A longer route. I just wanted to run. And never stop.
I was enjoying it. I found myself in narrower lanes and bylanes of a hilly town, away from the open spaces, wedged between buildings and people, carts and donkeys, running past passers-by with a huff.
And suddenly I skip by a person only to screech to an almost halt in front of a gigantic float, like a huge blue boat, like a cloud, squeezing out of an exceptionally narrow lane, that had a gorgeous seahorse for a figurehead, with people peeking from the top deck. I used the stick that I had been twirling with to break my speed, and grabbed onto the nearby passerby to take the turn. But I still or couldn’t or didn’t want to stop. And when I let her go, she hung on this time, stopping me from getting ahead. I kept pushing her, but she kept on trying to make a grab for me. I could feel her long cold nails scratch the back of my neck. What a bitch!
Couldn’t she just let it go and let me get ahead. I just wanted to run. I wasn’t running away from mom, or anybody… I just couldn’t stop. I had to run. I had to keep running. Even if I had no clue where I was heading to.