Curse of Morpheus

"Aria, are you ready"
"Yes, I'm prepared Morpheus"
"Aria, when the clock strikes 1AM, we need to sneak into the 'Ministry of Genetics' and steal the report on recent experiments on Alaskan rodents"
"What?! Alaskan rodents? Are there rodents in Alaska"

(audible footfalls)
"Ssh..someone is approaching"

(I notice that my shoe lace is untied)
(bend to fix it)

"Morpheus ... I notice something ... something very strange ... "
"Sssh I think the guards are approaching "
"Morpheus ... I don't think these are my shoes, I don't have blue shoes ... I only have grey and black and I've no shoes with lace, only latchet .."
"Shut up!"
"Morpheus ... I don't ... I don't get it ... unless this is a dream-m-m!"

(startled, I wake up)

That dream is etched in my mind because that was when it began few years back. I cannot seize the agent which seeded this transformation from dark cathode to conscious plasma in my dreams. I was the girl wielding a cutlass at T-Rex. I was the girl surrounded by aliens trying to punch the hyper drive activation code in an escape pod. I was the girl summoned by spirits to free them from tyrant master. Never were my dreams interrupted with any cognitive jolts. I could be surfing on a hoverboard, racing with Daleks, but they were as real as the bead of perspiration I wake up with after a frenzied night of adventure. Few years back, at an alarming rate, the phantasmagoria was punctuated when a minor aberration would enable my conscious mind and interpret my dreams.

Hold on!
I don't have an oxygen mask
and this planet is so alien
oh! it's a dream
Why is this T-Rex barking like a dog
unless it is a dog and the next moment,
the T-Rex shrinks to the size of a cur
what is this transfiguration
nevermind! it's a dream

My expeditions to alien worlds and escapades in time-machine were economically cut down to earthbound charters when I was no longer an intrepid voyager but only a curious nobody. An urgent need to the loo flushes my dream on seeing an oval instead of square toilet seat. The boarding flight announcement disembarks my dream when I realize that I don't have a red colored trolley bag. Every time on my wakefulness, I feel like I've just swallowed the pill in Matrix which welcomes you to the real world but I don't know how that pill is finding way to my body. I thought of reading articles on hypnotic stasis and how to sustain dreams. But afraid that my condition may worsen with any understanding of the inducement of dreams and these pedestrian imagery may as well heave-ho me I lie to await my fate with a whimper and glass of horlicks that today my dream stays longer before I realize that I've worn purple pyjamas to sleep and they are green now.

What an accursed soul! Cursed by Morpheus, the Greek god of dreams who takes human form to appear in dreams, I await my fate at his hands. Soon my dreams adapted to exist as extension of my real life — sloughed of any supernatural, or suspicious trimmings. I was dreaming of waking up for breakfast, watching television, brushing my teeth — where my toothbrush matched with precision the color and brand of my real-world toothbrush. No longer was my compadre a swashbuckling pirate or snout-faced martian but my real life friends enacted as cameos.

Moreover, there is one important thing I forgot to mention
(I close my laptop)
(remove my glasses)
(to be continued in my dream or I'd wake up again wondering ... hold on! I didn't complete the post how is it published in IndusLadies)

ZZzzzz

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Curse of Morpheus