Tamanna Bangthai
I'm sitting on the rings of Saturn, waving at the red and amaranthine stars, smiling back at me in twinkles, whilst burning their cores out, scorching heat emanating from fusion of hydrogen into helium.
I smile at the moon; still trying in vain, to hide those grey scars behind its visible side, shining a lucent glow.
I shut my eyes for a split second and suddenly find myself in the midst of tall looming buildings, dazzling lights, horns blazing at my ears, signboards naming the city of my dreams.
I bit my lips to see if I'm dreaming. Yet all I feel is the sweet kiss of euphoria pressing more serotonin into my senses, the blurriness of my specs-aided vision befogging my once sober mind.
I'm brought back natheless, into actuality, by the sound of brakes screeching on the road outside my open casement. I look around to see the familiar sooty walls and the blue ceiling looming over my solitude.
I walk up to the mirror and look at the person staring back at me, yet not wearing a doleful look anymore. Her eyes were a deep brown, and pupil a pellucid black; its depth seemed proffering me a whole different universe; where I nattered away with stars and planetoids, the companions I could never see; where I lived in Utopia and crossed paths with the lover I could never meet.
And I stood there still, flexing the muscles on my profile into a smile, knowing not how to bring my feet back on the ground. I kept soaring higher into the lulling heavens of my imagination. Imagination, that I could forsooth live, in the nebulous abode of my dreams.
I sit now, in the lap of euneirophrenia, still embracing the beatitude of the elysian seas I had, by choice, soaked myself in, even in this wakeful disposition.