The Jump

I woke up at the knock on the door. There were three knocks at irregular intervals. There was the first one, plain and simple, and then the second, within a fraction of a second, similar to the first one, a bit hurried though; then a long pause. The pause continued to grow intense and longer, almost enough to engulf the previous two sounds. And then it came, bolder and louder. It had a distinct feel to the sound. Panicky and alarming.  I waited for the fourth one. By now, I had watch in my hand; counting the time lap, between the last and the one expected. Silence continued, and so does the wait. But didn’t I mention, there were exactly three knocks, the forth never came. I was disappointed. I really wanted to hear the fourth knock, and record the intervals. I could have used this data for building some hypothesis, on knocking and time lap; and its significance to urgency. I was so disappointed that I didn’t feel like checking on the door but then, what about the curiosity building inside me, mounting and swelling.

Sleep was already compromised. Still, I didn’t switch on the light. Lights would have further compromised the darkness, and now even the eyes were getting adjusted to it; distinguishing the fine edges, boundaries, frames, and steps. I sat on the couch in the living room and decided to revisit the last few minutes in detail. I had time. As a kid we weren’t allowed to make louder knocks during the day. Only a single knock, not so loud was permitted. My father used to have night-shifts and sleep during the daytime. I wonder if there is any difference between sleeping during the day or the night. With eyes shut, it anyway is dark, and continues to grow darker. Right now I was sitting in the dark with my eyes open, and I still could just manage to see in the dark. I concluded there isn’t much of difference, things continue to be where they were, and thoughts continue to roam where they could. And I could, if I try, get accustomed to living in the dark. It’s actually better as things would appear in the shades of black and gray. Absolute dark, dark and lighter dark.

It was quarter-to-two, when I heard the first knock; that meant I would have slept for no more than two hours. To be honest, the only two hours constructively spent in the entire day.  I usually get into the bed by eleven. The time is perfect to sleep. But I haven’t been sleeping well since few days. Though I am in bed with eyes shut tight, and lights switched off, still somehow I don’t think I am sleeping. I just cannot manage to shut my brain, the harder I try, busier it gets. I think about anything and everything. There is absolutely no control. Sometime I feel the brain exists outside of me, or maybe I exist outside of this body. I sense alienation in this association with my being.  But like a discordant couple, stuck to each other. Memories, fantasies, and mundane sequences run through the brain. With eyes shut the images are so clear, that it often dilutes reality through dream. I am never sure if I am a conscious creator of these images, or a mere spectator. Nonetheless these are my dreams. It is better there, has always been. Life and situations move faster than the real time and even the most horrible incidents fade away once you snap-out of them.

It was 2am.  I don’t believe it. I pulled out scenes from the past, contemplated over light and dark, dream and reality, my being and becoming, and yet just fifteen minutes; it even included the three knocks. It was then I decided to go back to the bed.

I was lying in my bed and staring at the room. This was a different room and a different bed. My head just couldn’t rest in the pillow; I moved my head from right to left, left to right, and again right to left. I did this exercise few times, yet my head couldn’t manage to find an amiable position to rest. The bedcover was colder, and the mattress a little hard. Even the air along with objects in the room had changed. The wardrobe at the rear end of the room appeared shorter or maybe the ceiling had moved upwards; but then size of the room was just the same. It was not making any sense, how can an object transform on its own. But honestly they do, just like that. Shrink and swell. Appear and vanish. Move and halt. The window on the left wall, maybe that didn’t change. The size was almost the same, though I am not sure about the inclination and its placement anymore. I recalled, the first time I jumped out of that window. It was a quick fall, and I landed safely on the ground. It was exciting. I made a second jump quickly; this was swift but fell flat on the ground. I was sure I shrunk the second time, as the height of the fall didn’t change. There was an awful smell, I could almost taste it. I decided not to shrink this time, ignore the smell and make a perfect jump. I stood by the window for some time, gauging the height and preparing for the fall. Pulses were louder and faster. I closed my eyes and made the third jump. Stood firmly at the window I could see the fall. I continued to fall. The ground kept sinking and I did what I had to do, fall. I was still waiting to reach the climax, and once again smell that awful ground. At some point I stopped thinking. I was falling without aiming. There was never any music.  Standing by the window, I was restless and tired; the fourth jump was on hold.