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?
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