Sleepless Nights of a Dreamer and a Lover. The Importance of being an Expressionist.
For I only took pleasure in dreaming of beautiful women, one might say I’m a stalker or a desperate man but that is not the case. For I’m a dreamer and I imitate women as they are no less than Art itself, there lies in them the profound harmony that resounds in every work of Art.
Some are extraordinary wonderful, others gives hope, reflect my inner most sorrows and a few of them might warm up my loneliness in the thrilling gloomy winter nights.
“For seven cold inflicted nights, I suffered the most it was the ideal stage for my romantic spirit to exercise the cult that I frequently made of my own soul, passionate dreaming for either melancholy or exultation”..
A melancholic week.
On a beautiful morning. The sun rises for her I said, when I woke up from a troubled sleep, the realm of her presence I witnessed in the horizon, and I asked, who was that women?
For she makes my heart flutter all night long. She walk besides me last night in the bazaar and her one look tormented me so much. Even after we part from there and I suffered for looking right into her eyes, so deep and bright like the sun it enlightens my soul and all that was dead in me came to life.
Still I didn’t recover from my previous encounter, here I was sitting in a park on a sunny day, Suddenly I heard a serene laugh. I turn around and see a young girl laughing, and yet she was standing so close to me but seems so far away almost out of my reach shining and glittering and in my dreams later that night. She was like the brightest star in the sky “Sirius”.
For she was the bow and I was the arrow and our passion was the aim to shoot at. And that’s how one ought to kill one’s passion, for a dreamer how mournful was the situation, one can only endure such helplessness.
Next day I saw another pretty women and in my dream, she was like the ship and I was the roaring sea on which she floats for her beauty and pride seduces me to bow at her and be always below her knees drowning in the sweetness of her delicacy.
It was a rainy day and I was in University among the blooming students, suddenly she came wavering through the door walking with swaying short steps, she had a delicate smile on her face.
As she talked to her friends, at each word her bright smile and the constant gleam of her white teeth appeared, allowing everyone to admire her beauty. She was the Helen of Troy for me and in my dreams. I wage wars for her and killed millions. She was the driving force of my little scribbling heart.
She came out of nowhere first I thought she was the “Alice from wonderland”, it occurs to me due to her simple looks and her kind words, like she belongs to another world, she spoke a different language and the spirit in her was undeniably childish. she was overwhelmingly cheering and sweet for her voice was singing songs around my ears all night long.
I saw a photo on Instagram while scrolling down the news feed, It was a portrait of a Kurdish women I scarcely know, her eyes were so strange, her cheek bones so soft and smooth, a proud face but still her eyes tells me that she has suffered terribly and even died from the sorrows and it excites me.
And In my dream she was Re-born like the birth of Venus, for she seems to me the goddess of love even in her suffering’s and I wanted to worship her.
For I was weary and excessively in pain, trembling with fear that another women might come in my dreams to torture me, I wouldn’t dare to sleep now. These dreams will kill me so I stayed up all the night.
I went up to my desk hastily to write and as the words begin to flow out my head on the dull screen, the stream of consciousness flows irrevocably and I wrote down each and every detail of every sleepless night I suffered and in a few minutes it was finished. which I came to realize, when I titled it as an “Ideal Women”.
Ah, To hell with me, what did I create all of a sudden, this was the ideal one. The women of my dreams and surely she will hunt me to eternity in my sleeps.. for she is the ideal and cannot be attained, I’m forever doomed and this is how one let’s one’s own passion to be executed miserably.
I believe in true expression of one’s self and I support and love the movement started in early 20th century by some Artist’s called the “Expressionism”. As human being’s we exist and have every right and must always express our inner most desire without any fear or prejudice.
thankyou for the read and do forgive me for the Ecstasy I was in while writing these lines.