In the café, I pull out a napkin from the holder and momentarily glance out of the window. It’s evening now, and the weather is perfect. The lazy wind makes the leaves on the trees shiver slightly. A perfumery of scents outside chills me up. I close my eyes and breathe in the divine air, and turn my gaze to the napkin. I unfold the napkin and with a pencil, I begin to sketch my dreams on it…
In a plush restaurant, I’m sitting at a piano, touching the keys of ivory white and charcoal black which decorates the magical instrument. The restaurant fills a huge 2-storey space with dramatic high ceilings, large windows, and sweeping iron staircase. Soft lighting and breathtaking scent keep the vibe warm and sophisticated. People who are watching the beautiful scene from the window or talking with their better halves devote their kind attention to me as I close my eyes and start playing Fur Elise. I softly run my fingers from one end of the piano to the other without a stop. As I pour my soul into the music I’m playing, the black and white keys fill the room with a million colours. As I reach towards the end of the melody, a gentleman gets up and asks his girl for a dance. The girl takes his hand and I’m thrilled to play a romantic music for them. As the people cheer for the two lovebirds, an old couple draws my attention, who are sitting near a booth at the back corner, clinking glasses and enjoying each other’s warm company. I smile and close my eyes and continue to play the divine music, this time, unaware of my vicinity, allowing the music to seep into me slowly and spread throughout my veins, assigning me to a scrumptious and blissful world.
The hot steam and delicious aroma of the coffee brought by the waiter brings me back to reality. The hot cappuccino seems to go perfectly with the weather outside, which is changing slowly. The warmth that had been in the breeze has now evaporated. I take a sip of coffee. Okay, too hot. Perhaps I should leave it alone for a while. I place a lid on the cup, arrange all my things neatly on the table, give a signal to the waiter and go out for a stroll. Leaves of different colours float gracefully in the soft breeze. The air now is cool and crisp, like a refreshing drink of chilled water. It’s beautiful. As I walk, I think about my desire to play the piano. I’ve never done it before, but learning to play this instrument would certainly fill my life with peace and colours, isn’t it? It’s been 10 minutes now. I stroll back to the café and the fallen leaves on my path provide a nice texture to walk on. As I sit back on my spot in the café, I take a sip of the coffee and resume my story….
In my studio, I isolate myself from the world as I begin to paint my dreams, capturing it forever on my canvas. The brush in my hand makes me lose track of time, as I sail through an ocean of emotions. The pleasure of seeing my vision translate with hands, the anguish of a wrong brush stroke, the anxiety of using a new colour, the strain of a fine brush work, the confidence of a repeated brush stroke, the desire to create a balance, and the peace of emotions within. I finally create a piece that’s amazingly original, acid and tender, hard as steel and fine as a butterfly’s wing, lovable as a smile and cruel as the bitterness of life. I create something that resonates not just with me, but with everyone. And throughout the process, I find myself and lose myself at once.
As I finish my coffee (which gets painfully cold by now), I take a look at all the paintings that are hanging on the wall in front of me. One of them piques my interest. I’ve seen this painting before. The painting depicts whirling clouds, shining star and a bright crescent moon. I love the technique, the brush stroke, the artwork, the consistency and the flow. I call the waiter, who readily comes to address my queries. It seems that we’ve already developed a connection of familiarity since I’ve spent I-don’t-know-how-many-hours at the café.
“This painting looks exotic. Who’s the artist?” I ask.
“Vincent van Gogh, ma’am.” He replies, in his sweetest tone.
“Oh! I remember having seen this painting before.”
“You might have. It’s one of his finest masterpieces. The Starry Night.”
It does seem like a fine masterpiece. Perhaps I can try imitating this painting once in my life.
I head back to my place, surely my pet place now, and taking another napkin once again resume my story…
“Ready”, I reply as I get up with a script in my hand.
Do I really need a script? No.
I leave it on the table and enter the stage. The audience warmly welcomes me with a round of applause. It makes me nervous, yet I’m excited as hell. Nothing to stop me now, the stage is all mine. I begin with the presentation of my ideas in front of a large, fine, elite audience. The feeling is amazing. I make them laugh, I make them think over critical issues, I make them change their minds. I try to influence them in a good way in every possible way I can. I try to sell my ideas and my vision to people in the most creative way possible. My body language, my voice modulation, my diction, fluency, flow- everything blends together in perfect proportions. The feeling is addictive. I feel powerful. And as I end, I take back with me a bag full of confidence and satisfaction, and a belief that I could successfully inspire people and change their perception in a good way. I could finally leave my mark on someone’s life.
Why need drugs when the feeling of finally realising your dreams is so…. (I can’t come up with a word for that. :p)
My train of thoughts is broken by the choreography of a new weather by the wind, clouds and rain together. People outside run for cover and umbrellas open up as the clouds sprinkle their beads of water. The cafeteria begins to fill up. I glance outside the window. I love the rain. I see two girls outside, desperately trying to open their umbrella, but it seems there’s something wrong there. They begin running everywhere trying to find a cover. I can’t help but laugh. I wait for them to look at me, and when they do, I wave at them. They enter the cafe, and we share the table. We talk, we drink, we eat. We have a blast! Hmm. Nice company. I glance at the waiter, who is busy catering to the extra army of people who have swarmed in the cafe for rescue. Nevertheless, he looks at me and smiles back.
And I spend my day with great weather, great people, great dreams, great food and a great time. 🙂