Nightmares of a Bachelor

It has been a wonderful day since morning and I look forward to it being the same way until its time to go to bed.

The ‘now’ is as good as it could ever be.

I am dancing with a lovely lady to the tunes of Salsa music; we both look into each other’s eyes enjoying the music, the dance and the company of each other.

Ah! There’s this cupboard on my right with its door wide open. The door has a glass on it, just like the so many 'glass covered wall panels', so that the entire dance floor looks like one huge room, where ever you see you see some reflection of something. It is good to have one, just in case if you do not enjoy dancing with your current partner or if he/she isn’t that good looking you can look/stare at so many others present.

Anyways, the door is wide open and there is every likelihood that my lady, in course of doing those multi spins, might bump into it and hurt herself and hurt herself real bad.

So I excuse myself, slide towards the door and close it.

The lady is happy and I am back on the dance floor. Through the dance I comb her hairs with my head, taking my hand from her forehead into her hairs to her neck adn over her shoulders, with her hand flowing my hand; not that she needs any combing but that it is a step in that combination, a way to unlock the hands.

“Oh My God!” she screamed.

She had looked at her reflection in one of those numerous not hard to find mirrors.

There was blood on the forehead, on her hairs, on her neck and on her shoulders. I panicked, “You are bleeding! Are you hurt?” While I talk and gesticulate, my palms faced the ceiling and she saw it.

There was a big gash on my right thumb, blood was flowing freely and while combing hairs I had accidentally smeared her forehead, her hairs, her neck and her shoulder with my blood.

While closing the door, I had hurt myself.

A scene so beautifully lifted from those numerous Remember Me Not Bollywood flicks.

I took her to wash room so that she could wash off all that blood and I tied my handkerchief around the gash.

Then it was a field day for all the other females present there on the dance floor.

“You’ve got married to him! The filmi style… ”

I was sweating, breathing hard, wheezing, out of breath. I have pain in my left shoulder. I hear a horn in the background.

I wake up; my t-shirt drenched in my sweat, a car takes a turn somewhere.

A scary dream. A Nightmare.