Into the Future

So on a Thursday morning I am home. Year end is nearing and I must use up my due casual leaves. I got up at 10 in the morning after a night-long session of vivid dreaming which left a very happy taste in my mouth. On my happy days (or less depressed days) I feel more active. So I have just finished washing a big pile of clothes and watching music and travel videos on youtube and suddenly some vision pops in my head. I am seeing myself ten years into the future. You may wonder. You may frown and say, ok I understand the midweek holiday part, I can try to understand the happy dreaming part, I definitely follow the washing part, and even I can stretch my mind till useless videos. But why the sudden time travel? BPD attack? Black part has awakened?

Not really. But true, my mind does work in the most mysterious ways. So I am sitting on my bed, with headphones on, Munbe Vaa playing on my laptop (the Masala Coffee rendition is lit af). And suddenly I see myself. A forty something hot as fuck woman. Independent, bustling with confidence. Pouring wine into glasses for the gang of best friends who have come to visit. (Who are, by the way, all women. Contrary to popular belief, I am not so fond of my ‘so many male friends’. I kind of despise and pity the dickheads.) The semi-precious stones curved in antique silver are resting against my cleavage; they are glistening in the dim light of my minimalistic living room. My few strands of grey hair are a perfect match for my jewellery and my matte finish, silk outfit. We are all cackling at some badass joke. The first hints of wrinkles at the corner of my eyes are complementing my dark kohl-rimmed eyes. My beautiful eyes are twinkling. My golden retriever and the stray I adopted off the street looked up from their slumber at the sudden outburst of laughter. A bunch of middle aged ladies full of life, wisdom and badassery. What are we talking about exactly? Our last hiking trip? Our next trip? Or my latest book? (FUCK I am ambitious) Or my hobby of astrology practice? Or the twenty something hot guy we saw the other day? Or is it just about our secret fantasies that our men have no idea of? (You would fall off the chair of your mediocre idea of life if I told you about mine.) I don’t know exactly. But we surely are not talking about our kids’ careers. Or about the mother-in-laws. Or what is happening in whatshername’s life. We are better than that. Our lives are bigger than that. I may or may not have kids. I am not sure. But I am in my imagination. So I have a girl as badass as me. I probably go on trips nowadays with my daughter. Husband? Not sure about that either. If he exists he looks like a fifty years old Milind Soman; with salt and pepper hair and a chiseled body. He respects me as a human being and stays out of my way most of the time. He is a man; not a whiny, obsessive, suspicious manchild after all. Not to mention rich and successful. (I am not a hypocrite you see. I am a keen worshipper of successful men superior to me.) We all are sitting by the fireplace (or at least by a giant heater, since I have settled in the mountains only), sipping our wine and laughing; laughing at our past –  our bad choices, people who couldn’t see our true worth, our mistakes, tough times, and struggles that made us who we are today. And we are laughing. We are celebrating life at its best. We are celebrating our flawed, not-so-perfect, colourful lives. And we are happy, very happy.

Neptune and Uranus, are you guys listening?