Woke up one morning trying to think what it was that woke me up. Couldn't remember, so i made myself a hot cup of freshly brewed 'Taj Mahal' tea mixed with a liberal dose of "Everest chai masala" and a ton of sugar. The caffeine did not provide any further clue to the mystery of what ended my slumber so I tried puffing on some nicotine.
With all these stimulants providing no inspiration I tried what any reasonable person would on a Sunday morning, I tried sleeping again, hoping that lightening did strike twice. It did not. Actually did not get a chance to. Trying to sleep while solving a mind consuming mystery is not something I was good at, so I quit trying and got down to making myself useful to no-one in particular but my ego. I tried my hand at taking some senseless pictures, the curse of a digital camera.
Then my mind wandered back to the suspense of the morning and I decided to hunt again for the sleep destroying varmint. I started again by trying to recollect my dreams; some can be described here, some cannot anywhere. There were the usual me winning Wimbledon, sailing the Adriatic on a yacht with a bevy of scantily clad female Scandinavians, imagining myself as a re-incarnation of Supeman/Neo/Rambo/Jason Bourne/Lionel Messi/Jim Morrisson and many more. But none of these seemed the sorts that would get me rising out of slumber in mad raging fury.
Its often said one cannot remember ones dreams but I do, and am often ashamed. Except this snooze ending monster that continued to elude my Sherlock skills.
Then suddenly out of nowhere there it was, the subject of my derision and the reason for these stupid paragraphs above.
