For me, it dawned one day with a nightmare. Literally. It was about seven in the morning. I had a strange nightmare that shook me awake, all sweaty on a cold winter day. I remembered each and every bit of it vividly, and I wrote what I had just seen, as a draft on my phone, drank some water and slept again. I re-read it the evening and sensed the heaviness of it, and the profundity that it implied. Cut to the nightmare – I am walking in the park where have I spent most of my childhood, playing. Avoiding the people I know, who were strolling on the park’s periphery, I walk towards the inside – to the tree in the centre, faster and faster. My heart races. I begin to run; to escape all the faces I know. I run on thorns, several of them, limp, hop and jump till I cannot take it anymore. I stop, puffing and panting, holding on to the bleeding leg. I see that the leg is not only bleeding, but it also has a long-left bandage, probably nursing similar injuries. I unwrap the bandage, with heart-thumping to a new high. I see, to my chilling surprise that all the years of ‘bottled-up’ bandage has not cured anything. I see my foot completely rotten, with just the skeleton left! A thought arises in me that this should immediately be amputated. This ‘part’ of my inside that has gone beyond repair. It also strangely, brings in a sense of peace. The realisation. Cut! That was when I woke up, to jot it all down! Multiple meanings rush to my head, and the most sensible of them was apparent from my understanding of the structure of this dream – that the leg was only a representation of my mind’s part – the memory – that needs to be cut off. An amputation, of course, needs a closure stitch, right? So, I thought deeply: what should I do? Is there something that still lurks inside? Resentment? No. Guilt? Yes. Should I apologise? Yes. So, I went to her place – to apologise to her and her family for the hurt I had caused, for the fight that had taken place, and what ultimately resulted in our separation. I climbed slowly, up the stairs to the second floor flat. It had been five years. Heart pumped like crazy. I felt dizzy. Mustering up all courage, I rang the bell. Surprise again – for a different person answered the door, saying they do not know where the previous residents are right now. But she gave me the number. I took it down and went out. Related reading: From a happy marriage to remarriage – a heartwarming journey of a woman On my way back, I called the number. Heart pumped up fast again. Her dad answered. I talked, in a calm manner, “You should remember me. I called in to say sorry once again. I know that she is well-settled in some town abroad. I will not disturb you again, I promise. This is to clear my mind. This is to say that I am sorry. I want her to be happy forever.” I cut the call without expecting a response. The next step onwards, I felt like I was born new, with a fresh mind, with no burden. I thanked my dream. The power of subconscious mind it is!
