While Adrian Sleeps


As Adrian sat on his chair, with a pipe in his right arm, his left hand supporting his body’s weight as he slumps on to his rocking chair, he tilts his head to his back, resting it on the pillow that was positioned precisely and accurately on the chair. He closed his eyes and hummed his favorite tune, a song that his father used to sing to him when he was a little boy of five.


The song went something like this;


Swiftly like the wind,

Gently like the waves,

Furiously like a burning fire,

Humbly as the falling leaves in autumn,

You slowly drop every baggage you ever had,

Letting them drop onto the pavement,

Breaking open everything,

Revealing the contents of the bag,

No rush to clear the mess up,

No single need to tidy it up,

Look on forward,

And run like the wind,

And yet gently like the waves,

With a burning urge of a fire,

And the humility of the leaves,

Just keep running,

And enjoy that moment of freedom.


He closed his eyes, and his breath deepened and softened, he could feel the tip of his forehead warm, and the warmth travels all through his face, to his neck, past his arms and back up again to his chest. He could feel the warmth embracing him from downwards too, from his toes, travelling up above to his legs and merging with the warmth in the chest. The warmth merges in a hue of bright blue. The feeling of warmth takes a figure of a warm bubble that slowly grows bigger and bigger. And as it grows larger, it starts to seep through, out from his body, making Adrian in the state of meta-bliss.


The bubble pops out, and gently it floats up into the air, and even while floating, the bubble starts to quiver and turn. It starts moving about slowly, and then it starts to gain momentum. It was as though the bubble had a life of it’s own.


Infact, it did for it starts to take the form and shape of a child.


A boy to be precise. Five years of age.


The child lands onto the ground and yet amazingly, the weight of his five year old self doesn’t make a sound on the wooden floor of the house as he lands.


The child turns and takes a look at the now old sleeping Adrian, turns back infront and runs.


He runs about, out from the house, into the fields.


The sun’s shining above him, with the crystal blue sky and soft white cotton clouds creating a beautiful background for that moment. The wind blows gently as the autumn leaves fall. The heat of the sun doesn’t burn the child, but rather brings about a comforting warmth to his tiny body. From a distant, the roar of the waves crashing can be heard gently.


The child runs and sings the tune his father taught him.


He frolics in the grass. Does anything his heart desires such as climbing trees, playing in the mud, getting dirty.


Once he’s done playing, he comes back home dirty, unclean, filled with mud but satisfied. Slowly he stands infront of Adrian, smiling with satisfaction. He then slowly and gently takes the form of the old warm bubble again and makes his way into Adrian’s chest froming the light warm blue hue that slowly spreads all over Adrian’s causal body.


Adrian slowly wakes up from his slumber, rejuvenated, happy and at peace. He doesn’t know what took place, but he smokes his pipe, glad that he had a good sleep.


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