Bookmark #499

It was a muggy night yesterday, or at least, I remember thinking this before I slept. It’s too warm, I remember saying to myself. I woke up in the middle of my sleep, craving water. The bottle beside me was empty, so I got up, my eyes almost fully closed. Trusting muscle memory, I walked to the kitchen groggily but just then, I saw this golden glow emanating from outside the curtains.

At first, I thought this was all a dream, that I may very well be still sound asleep in my bed, and this quest for some water was some twisted game concocted by my mind. But then, I peeked through the curtain to see the glow was real. I was still thirsty, and this was no dream, so I went to the kitchen, filled my bottle up, and went into the balcony to witness the most beautiful sunrise. A tinge of yellow over everything, as if a light coat of watercolour had taken over the world, and since no one had woken up yet, there was a soft silence about everything.

I stood there, sipping water and looking at the sun and the hills. In that moment, entirely engulfed by the sheer peace ahead of me, I did not want anything else but to stand there, and so I did just that. I came back in, the room was still dark and cosy, and I decided to sleep a little more, thinking about how serendipitous life is in all its little and large ways. There is nothing else you need but a little randomness and a little urge to get a glass of water in the middle of your sleep, and it can change everything.

You do not remember much—all memories fade into nothingness—but you remember stories like these. You tell people about them for years, and they stare at you, puzzled and perplexed. It was only a sunrise, they tell you. Be that as may, you reply, it changed everything still, not that I knew it at the time. Not that we ever really know. But there is a feeling, and often, that is enough.

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