Sunday Morning.


It was a hot Sunday morning. I had a dream which dissipated with my sweat when I woke up. I remember falling down somewhere. Now I sit upright in my bed, looking at my mangled left hand and a bruised,bleeding body. The bed sheet was red as red can be. I can’t feel any pain. I wonder what happened to me. I can’t think straight, everything is turning into a .. haze. Pink Floyd is playing in my mind. The right side of my head is growing numb and I can’t think. I try to get down from the bed and walk . I amble aimlessly and fall down. Like pus coming out from a wound, I vomit on the floor. The alarm rings and I wake up. I look at myself. No mangled left hand, no bruised body. Delighted, I alight from the bed. As I walk to the bathroom, my head is still sullen from that bloody nightmare. I slip on something gluey and bang my head on the wooden cabinet, my body slams into the granite floor.My head is broken and I’m bleeding to death. It was somebody’s vomit that I had slipped on.


2 thoughts on “Sunday Morning.

  1. Whoa! What was that! More of it please!


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