I woke up to a weird warm feeling and sprawled out as I yawned and sat up, though…I wasn’t in our apartment. I was in…my old room, but it seemed different…much more me now and not like when I was a kid; the walls once pale blue were a soft warm gray and littered with pictures that looked like I had made them with smeared charcoal across the papers, sticky-notes, strings and all sorts of things connecting all of the drawings and fixtures, there were stacks of canvas, watercolor boards and other art mediums littering the room: tubes of paints across the dresser top beside a painted pot filled with brushes, a stack of sketch books, an open thick roll of pastel sticks, a pallet of charcoals and…all sorts of things. There were a few hanging plants that softly swung in the breeze of the ceiling fan and bright warm sunlight filled the room from the bay-window which was occupied by throw pillows and plushies I had when I was a kid, though the light was…weird, it was misty, milky and almost more solid than light should be; like there was nothing, but light sources outside. The space light fixture still remained, but all sorts of little charms and things hung from the bars.
I stood up a bit confused finding myself dressed in nicer pajamas that I had gone to sleep in in grays, ivory and cream tones in loose light materials. What was most confusing though was…the scent of garam masala and basil on the air, the clink of clay cookware and the warming scent of chai…Mom’s cooking. I walked towards the door before softly opening it, walking into the main room of the house…everything was white and warm, soft woods…soft sunlight filled the house from the windows, but the world outside seemed to just fade away soon after the clearings edges, all the furniture was white and newer looking and all of the art was…almost pictures caught from my memories. There were memories that I recalled, but were different because of how it was depicted, it was like my memories, but though rose colored lenses making it pristine, almost too nice and alien feeling to me.
“Aw, there you are.” A familiar voice said
“Mom!” I said as I turned towards the kitchen, faster than I expected myself to, even if this is a dream…I just…I just want to hear her voice again.
There in the kitchen…stood my mother: she’s a slightly taller woman and without a doubt southern Indian: deep tanned skin and long black hair in a braid down her chest, huge gold hoop earrings and bangles littering her wrists and person, her deep brown eyes have always looked red in photos, but…something about this dream made her eyes just a flat deep scarlet red. Deep widow’s peak making Mom’s bang hang in her face like usual which she had pushed back with a big dragonfly shaped pin on her right, red lipstick and heavy liner with a bhindi in the center of her forehead, smiling showing her deep dimples and making the outer corners of her eyes crinkle as she walked over and just clasped my cheeks as she kissed my forehead before hugging my tightly: I nestle my head into her shoulder as I hugged her tightly, it…it felt too real to be a dream, but…this had to be on. The scent of cardamom, chili, cinnamon and pears on her like when she was still alive and her soft laugh hitting my ears as she hugged me.
“Come on, beta.” Mom said laughing softly, my mother was a rather soft spoken woman, she always talked, loved talking and could talk to everyone, but her voice was quiet and delicate, though thick with her accent. She did teach me how to speak fluent Hindi too, speak it just as well as I do English. “Dinner’s ready” she added as she motioned to the dining table that was littered with…all of the food I missed her making.
“Hey, Mom…why did you never mention a…Paradise Academy?” I asked, she sighed as she looked upwards a little, even if this a dream…I can at least guess what Mom would say or how she’d react.
“I…enjoyed my time at the school, but…I just…I never knew if you would have the same…gifts that I do” she said, talking with her hands as she always does as she made me sit at the table as she just liberally started dishing out rice tinted yellow from saffron and spices, goat vindaloo cooked so long that it fell away from the bones as the tomato-y spicy herbaceous sauce pooled against the rice, butter chicken so neon orange it stained the plates yellow from the turmeric and so much other stuff along with a large stack of homemade garlic and coriander studded roti she made nearly dripping ghee. I remember waking up early to held her make them, burnt myself a handful of times…though she’d always teach me and help me when I’d get hurt and taught me about how every little bump, bruise, cuts and burns were ways to learn, a story for me to tell and a lesson to be taught .
“Gifts?” I asked confused
“Oh…right…you were thirteen…you wouldn’t have started showing them yet.” She said, talking to herself a bit as she said that. “I didn’t know if you got the various…aspects of my people, so I just…didn’t know if I ever needed to tell you.”
“Mom, I look just like you, just short and male.”
“Not…not that…something else” she said as she sighed softly, pinching her bridge, “How…do I explain this?” she asked herself, “Paradise Academy is an incredible school and there will be…a lot of people you will be incredible friends with, the school is full of incredible people. It’s still a school, but they are obsessed with ensuring that people are always at their best: always making sure that their students are their tip-top shape…but there are…certain qualities, certain…aspects and features of the students there that is…hard to explain.” She said as she paced around, “but…oh…oh, no” she said as she looked off.
“Oh, no?” I asked
“Alright, this dream is something that I’ve absolutely loved, I really wanted to see you to, Kain…but please…be careful with saying the words “I wish”…things happen when people like us say those words. You need to leave before they find out you’re here!” she said, that last part a little rushed before the world seemed to be pulled through a straw away from me, just melting into rapidly moving strings of white and black as wind rushed through my eyes and hair as I held my arms out. I gasped as I shot up in bed to my usual alarm.
“What…the fuck?” I asked myself confused by the dream and how…how Mom acted at the end. It was like…she was actually there, everything felt too real, too close and far, far too true…it felt like I was actually there with Mom somehow, but that’s impossible…she’s dead. “Be careful with the words “I wish”” I asked myself confused, “What does that mean?” I questioned as I held my feet, looking around as the pale, pale light of dawn breached through my window. “What…is happening?”
Comments (1)
See all