5. Repetition
Chapter 5 of 'A Theory of Relativity'
It was a repetition of the night before the night before. And the morning was a repetition of the morning before this one. The same sequence of events repeated themselves and I could only be astonished at their periodicity: I woke up, walked to the spare room, saw her playing the piano and then found myself waking up in the bed in the morning. I asked her if she woke up in the middle of the night and told her what I had experienced. She repeated the same explanation and convinced me in the moment that I was dreaming. I wanted to believe that this was a recurring dream. But then why did it feel like a memory?
I had to submit my thesis in a couple of days, so I had a lot of work for the day. It took me the better part of the day to round off my work on the thesis and during that time I didn't focus on anything except the minute and major details of my research. It was only after completing my thesis and exhausting myself that I came out of the building and saw what a pleasant weather had enveloped the city.
The sun was low and there was a bright white light across the sky. A cool breeze was blowing which added a regular pattern of shivering to the leaves of the tall trees that grew on either side of the road. There were few cars, going up and down the road, wading through a continuous rustle of leaves and bickering of the wind at the tall buildings which tried but failed to stagnate them.
It was only after I reached home that I remembered the events of the night. This was something strange. At one moment it seemed true that it was just a dream but at the other moment it seemed too true to be a dream. If it was real, I couldn't think of any reason why she would tell me that it wasn't? I mean even though it was an odd hour to play the piano but there was nothing wrong with playing piano. And if she could actually play the piano so well that it could charm the listeners, it was something amazing and nothing to hide. But then it could be a dream. Maybe it was a dream.
I went to the kitchen and poured a cup of tea. It was about time for her to come. So, I got another cup of tea and waited. There was a knock on the door and I went and opened the door. There was no one at the door. Just the sound of the wind blowing through the windows across the stairs. I must have misunderstood the knock. The neighbourhood was full of sources of frequent sounds that could pass off for a knock.
I went back and started reading a journal. Even though the articles were quite interesting, I didn't know when I fell asleep. Only when I woke up, with the journal all crumpled, the second cup of tea knocked down and spilt on the bed, the clock striking one o clock and the night sky peeping through the window that I realized that she still hadn't come. Instantly, I picked up my phone and dialled her number. She picked up and told me that she was caught up at work and would be there in about another hour.
I was very hungry having not dined yet. So, I went to the kitchen to find something to eat. As I was making my way back to the room that I realized that the spare room looked different. The room looked more spacious than ever because something was missing from there. It was the piano.
© Zeeshan Akhtar