Ups! Gambar ini tidak mengikuti Pedoman Konten kami. Untuk melanjutkan publikasi, hapuslah gambar ini atau unggah gambar lain.
~
I dreamt of wings again.
The night after I spoke to Zunair, I went home feeling relaxed and steady. After I prayed (I had started praying on time), as soon as my head hit the pillow I knocked out.
I was standing by that cliff again. My back was turned to the edge, but a strange gravitational pull tugged me around to stare deep into the black pit. The pit descending for miles and miles below me, hinting at no end.
But I was not afraid.
Above me, the heavens contrasted the dark black pit below. The sky was bright, pure. Fluffy clouds were dotted here and there and rays of the sun were hiding somewhere beyond my periphery.
But there nonetheless.
I took a deep breath. And jumped.
The blackness engulfed me, pressuring me to spiral downwards into the all-consuming emptiness.
And then my wings grew, beating persistently against my back as they captured me from my demise and pulled me upwards. Up, up, up, towards the bright sky and the fluffy clouds. Towards sunlight and fresh air.
Towards freedom.
Beneath me the black pit grew smaller and smaller. And even in my dream, as a habit I pressed my hand against my chest to feel the heart beating below the surface.
It was stable, balanced. Beating at a consistent, normal pace. Constant, like the seesaw I had learned to set straight.
