Three Swirling Plates

At 12:30 am, I closed my eyes. My mother and I, had been talking about the beautiful yellow full moon lighting the silent lane, hiding below the blanket of dark, tall trees.

I could sense the journey of my conscious mind reaching the milestone of sub-consciousness. Visual glimpses of the conversation with my friend about the food in trains, started appearing.

My eyes open. There’s something fluttering. May be it is just a part of the dream I am searching for. No. Maybe my Mom is snoring. I know it is definitely not in my room. Maybe Dad forgot to close the water taps tight. But, what if it is her?

Mom doesn’t snore plastic. Water isn’t of porcelain. The sound is getting intense. Is it the security guard hitting his wooden stick on the steel railings to scare thieves, if any?

She can’t come here. Why will she at 2:30am? I know this house has been locked for months. Who lived here before us? Is she wearing her favourite black dress? Does her face still lack nose? Haven’t her eyes shrunk from a ball’s size? Maybe I should go to the living room to see her seated on the sofa. She will lift her head up. She would move her hair to show her face. Yes! She is Swirling the three plates. The Three Swirling Plates she is fond of.

I walk from my bed to the place where she is supposedly seated. Why is the noise decreasing? Did she realize I am coming? Where is she gone? The noise diminished.

I go back to my bed room. I see a blanket on my friend’s face, when I left from the room, there was no blanket on his face, sleeping next to me.

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