Rainbow Dreams

The white powder beckoned to him. He cut it into a thin strip and snorted. It hit him instantly, and he felt energized, an enchanced sense of well-being, a rapture beyond the most euphoric state of existence. He held his hand out for an intravenous hit. Someone injected him and he rose even higher, experiencing a whole body orgasm. His toes curled, his head jerked back in sheer pleasure. He was not of this world any more.

I walk into a field of golden maize. The sky is all colours of the rainbow, many-hued clouds float overhead. A warm sunshine bathes the world. I lie down, the soil beneath cool to my body, the clouds forming patterns above me. I see angels and swans and faces of people I know. I hear soft footfalls near me. I sit up and see the most beautiful girl walking towards me through the field. She shimmers, an ethereal glow surrounds her like a halo. She is dressed in white that catches all the colours around her. Her face holds a beatific smile. She approaches me, her delicate feet are bare and she almost floats, so gentle are her steps. I put up a hand to shield my eyes, she shines so bright. She leans forward towards me and I see her face. Its Moira. She holds her hand out to me, and I take it. She pulls me up and we're running across the golden field holding hands, the tall stalks of maize swaying as we part them, a warm breeze brushing my face. I close my eyes and breathe in the perfumed air.




I open my eyes and it is night.

"Mac, Mac" someone shook him. He moaned in protest and beat away the hand that was pounding his shoulder. Half awake, he looked at a glass that had been placed in his hand. He took a swig at its contents and fell back into an induced reverie.

I am standing alone in the field. A pale light falls on everything. The sky is black with streaks of bright green, brilliant blue, and hues of purple and red. The maize has withered and the dried stalks droop lifelessly. I panic and look around for Moira. She is nowhere to be seen. I cry out in anguish, I can't bear to lose her again, not when I just found her after all this time. It is suddenly pitch black and I can't see anything. I run aimlessly into the darkness, tripping, falling, scratching, scraping. I call out her name. Moira, Moira. She doesn't answer. My heart is pounding in my chest. I crash into something. Suddenly, the pale light returns, washing over everything. I have hit a tree, a dead tree, with a dry, grey trunk. I look fearfully up at it. It branches are leafless and brittle. A deathly whistle issues when the wind blows through them. I see something swinging on one of the branches on the other side. I creep slowly around the trunk. Her gown black and in tatters, the torn wisps flying around her ankles, Moira hangs by her neck.




Mac woke up screaming. He thrashed about, and crouched up against the wall. He pulled his knees up to his chest and sobbed pitiously. Moira... the one girl he had ever loved, the girl who had been raped by her incestuous uncle. He could still hear her scream as she jumped out the window in a bid to escape her rapist. Mac had not reached in time to save her. He did reach in time to see her uncle fall to his death on the stairs as he stumbled out in a drunken stupor. Mac did not have the satisfaction to tear the fiend into pieces with his own hands. Instead he was left to cope with his own grief. He stumbled to the bar. A glass was placed in his hand, and he added a cocktail of drugs to it. He downed his Brompton's cocktail - coke, heroin and alcohol. A potent mixture, a lethal dose.


I am standing in a perfectly white room. The walls, ceiling and floor stretch endlessly away. I cannot make out silhouttes or lines distinguishing them. It is pleasantly cool. My eyes are riveted on one, and only one, feature of the room, the most beautiful one - Moira. She is smiling at me and beckons me to follow her. She turns and ascends an invisible flight of stairs. I follow anxiously, wordlessly. All I want is to be close to her. I climb and climb. The steps stretch endlessly upwards. Suddenly, the stairs end. The world opens out to a burst of colours. Moira stands beside me. We stand silently holding hands as we watch the Northern Lights play across the starry sky.




Mac pulled himself on to the roof of the skyscraper. A strong wind threatened to blow him off as he stood swaying perilously. He lurched with jerks and uncertain movements towards the ledge. The lights and sights of Vegas lay twinkling before his eyes. He stood at the edge of the roof, his arms opened wide. For one brief second, he was perfectly lucid, his eyes were clear and intelligent. Then he closed his eyes and stepped off.

I am weightless, lighter than a feather. I am flying, and Moira flies with me. We both laugh merrily, leaving a trail of gold and silver and sparkling lights behind us. We twirl through rose-rimmed clouds, dance on air. I pull her close to myself and kiss her softly. I breathe in her perfume, feel her hair brushing my face, her fingers intertwined in mine. I am blissful, content and at peace. I sleep, holding her.



3 comments:

  1. superb blog...i came across ur blog some days ago and made a note of it since i had to return to it.....read quite a few posts (ok i read alot of them) and loved them....:)

    P.S- Alot of IIT mentions...hence u r one for sure...what did u study in IIT.

    Dennison

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  2. Stupendous narration, awesome format. Keep it up Meenakshi!

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    Replies
    1. Thank you very much :)

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