Osiris 83/ Jj 86
A mirage- not an illusion
Can be captured, can be proven
It's there, but isn't really- Refraction not reflection.
Beneficial in its right…
The euphoria suffused in her blood. Her mind was enraptured. Her body... tireless yet dormant.All she remembered were a few random conversations ... all she could see was an unfamiliar yet quaint corridor ... the paintings, vanilla ice-cream and an ivory tower. All being manifestations of her own mind, conjured by her subconscious.
“What do I owe the pleasure?”
“You are in trouble”
“Who is it this time?”
“Religious fanatics .... Feminist groups .....”
“Drink? I've got Bourbon ... and.... bourbon”
“Bourbon ----- rocks”
...If acknowledged by a sound mind
In a sense affecting the vision
Though incentivizing the mission
Inspired, motivated at the sight of the horizon
Humans faulter, breed hope, trudge fiercely, denying all reason.
In the darkness, close your eyes, mirages fade at night
Sleeping was something she couldn't afford. The dream made her feel like an infant seeing the world for the very first time ... a tabula rasa. As she explored the mélange the sheets began unfolding themselves, trying to shout it out loud .... the answers were within her grasp but there existed this fear of these answers not being nearly as ambrosial as the questions.
When caffeine did not work she tried a dose of uppers knowing about the tryst she had with these stimulants, followed by an overdose and a not so pleasing aftermath. Her eyelids succumbed to the tiredness. It was that familiar darkness ....those perfect constellations .... but a different dream. The sunlight penetrated through the tear in the still chiffon curtain, the dust particles danced with a sense of gaiety – drifting around with a promiscuous peculiarity.
She sat at the edge of a cot with half packet of Kamel Red and a bottle of Absinthe. She stepped out of the room and stepped inside the mirror.
An empty room, a door .. another room, dangling curtains --- like puppets, a window with cracked glass, a broken lock, an open door .... an empty corridor, a flight of stairs, a familiar voice echoing inside the head, more stairs ending with a door .... a red sky, a marble floor, the edge, tiny trees, a melancholic smile, a leap.
Start again the next morning- new day, new fight
Endless, never pointless are those journeys by and large
Life teaches you a lot on your way to your mirage.
The seven dwarfs surrounded around the glass case: No one spoke a word, Julie moved in an out of the world of fantasies and drifts:
Is all that she heard.
The first part of the short story can be read here