There will always be a time when I wish that everything is a dream. How I wish that I am in a world filled with autonomy of imagination, fantasies, impossibilities and even the scariest thing imaginable. But of course, no matter how much I try to refuse to leave this world, the reality of it would pull me out.
The scratching sound made by the old phonograph was the first thing I heave the moment my senses awakened. The recurring wound that signifies aimlessness and restless thoughts of searching for the hidden music in the depths of darkness enveloped the room.
I lay still on the bed; eyes closed and mind wondering around the ghostly room. How I wish I have never woken up, because the events of last night refuses to cease running in my head.
My eyes, though closed, searched for traces of light and found none. Then I remembered closing the curtains last night. Surely, no matter how high the sun is right now, no light can pass through those thick satin curtains.
My fist clenched at the thought of the light. It was as if I am trying to grasp something. But the only thing I was able to do was feel the smooth silk sheet of the bed with my nails as they run through every weave of tiny threads.
I lay still, thinking of every possible way to escape this reality before it’s too late. My senses are starting to become more aware. I took a deep breath and try to concentrate. I let my arm fall from the bed and touch the floor. But I was a mistake, because the moment I felt the floor-like the flood of water it started gushing over me-the floor.
Then it took over me-the memories. From the moment I entered the room, the phonograph, the curtains, to the very reason I am lying on this bed.
At that moment I have no choice but to open my eyes. It was then I realize where I was, the solitude I was in and the cursed brought by listening from the old phonograph.
- a while ago I asked my mom if I can buy a phonograph...she just stared at me blankly... :D
