There’s a lovely, mesmerizing, sprawling estate. That’s where she lives, all alone, by herself. This estate has the tallest trees she has ever seen, and they’re all so close together, creating a dense forest-like atmosphere. The sprawling bungalow stands proudly somewhere in the centre of the estate, covered on all sides by these tall tress at a radius of about 100 metres. Within these 100 metres, sway hordes of beautiful flowers, croton plants, and some certain lavendar flower bearing trees.
It’s slowly getting dark outside, and the colours fade away politely to bring in the pitch black of the impending night. She puts away the book she’s reading, gets off her rocking chair and switches on the porch light. The feeble incandescence barely lights up the steps that lead down to the courtyard.
As she gets back to her rocking chair and takes the book in her hands once again, she realises she’s hungry — she hasn’t had a morsel since breakfast. So engrossing has the book been. She drops the book back on the chair and walks in.
The bungalow is a huge one. Most rooms in the bungalow are not used — yet, she opens all the huge, grill-less, open windows very morning, closes them before sunset. Today, however, she’s been caught up in the fast-paced pages of the book. That was a mistake. But it’s too early to realise that.
She walks into the kitchen and stands there for a moment, relishing the cool breeze that floated in uninvited. She fixes herself a nice, warm, yummy dinner. As she inhales the aromas of the various spices, it invigorates her, making her feel ecstatic.
That’s when the power suddenly goes out, leaving her in a kitchen lit only by the low flame of the stove — and as she looks out through the kitchen window, she sees only pitch black. And it looks like the stars have come down. As her eyes adjust to the moonlight, she freezes. For, what glitters like stars are glinting pairs of eyes — of many black panthers making their way stealthily towards the bungalow.
As the blood in her veins slows down its mad rush, she grabs at the windows, swing them close. She runs from room to room, swinging them all shut. And as she goes from the rooms facing east, to west to south, she realises the glittering pairs of eyes are covering the distance quickly, all around. The bungalow is surrounded by them!
As she closes the last but one window and turns to close the last one on the opposite wall, she sees lithe paws springing off the window sill, landing sexily on the room’s granite floor. 16 extended, sharp nails click on the cool granite.
I’m a person of very few dreams. I dream rarely — yes, really RARELY. And when I do have dreams, they’re extremely vivid, of undeniable details…sometimes extremely shocking.
Some are so real, I wonder if I was actually dreaming. there are incidents I’ve believed have really happened, only to later realise it was but a mere fragment of my imagination at work while I’m dozing! And these realizations strike when I discuss those incidents with other people who were with me “then” in the dream, and they look at me blankly, saying “What? When?”.
Of all such dreams, the one that has given me shivers every time is the one with the estate and the bungalow! This is a recurring dream, one I’ve dreamt at least 15 times, and I’m NOT exaggerating! I’ve had the same dream that many times, and it was always the same setting, the same time, the same bungalow, the same glinting eyes *trembles*. And every time, at that same moment, when 16 extended, sharp nails click on the cool granite, I wake up, heart thudding away, super-glad to find that I’m in my safe bed, on the road-side house in far-away Trivandrum or Bangalore (yes, I’ve had this dream while I was in Trivandrum, and after I came over here).
I do hope my dreams don’t come true! Shudder!