Ananya Lodhi

Abstract Drama

4.0  

Ananya Lodhi

Abstract Drama

Framed Dream

Framed Dream

2 mins
12.2K


Have you ever been to that gloomy room where hope cries melancholy for its rebirth and serenity has no incarnation?


Perhaps not. For I was the only visitor last night, guided by my dreaming itinerary. It was dispirited and depressing. Dimly lit, the hall outshined its clingy webs. But the dark hall, obscure enough, could not abstain my sight from manifesting that beautiful painting right in front of me.


Fitting into that bold golden frame, there I stared at the picturesque of the young girl. Dressed in pearled red, dark-complexioned, she seemed no less than a perfect blend of 'love and war'. Tendrils of hair adorned her face in a befitting manner. Clenching one of those tendrils, she rested her hand over another. A sparkling bracelet was hanging from her right hand. Her face was complexly intricated with a ruminating smile. Eyes as glittery as agates, she seemed to know me. She, who profoundly stared at me too, appeared to be the designer of her own life. It was as if she decorated her life's ocean with sun rays and the sun with ocean tides. It looked as if all she has in her life is magic.


"For who's sake is she resting here?", was my only question as soon as I finished embracing her.


And suddenly I sensed silver water rushing abruptly through my veins and freezing fingers of ice gliding swiftly through my soul, chasing each other. For the reverberations in that dejected chamber bespoke of her days overshadowed by misery and misfortune. And she, who appeared to know me, was no one but my ownself.


As I stepped back and regressed, I realized that my dream was nothing, but a mere picture of mine within a picture. For I didn't utter a word, but it made me pen down the entire, subtle picture.


And I, who had imagined herself in a dream's picture is chasing her dream. 


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