Sitting down at a desk, chin in my hands, elbows on either side of a textbook. My eyes glazed over, not quite seeing, staring into what only my mind can see. I hear the chair scrape back against the marble floor, feel myself get up, almost as if in a dream. Movements are slow and easy. I turn, my back to the chair, my hands grasping either side of it as I languidly survey what is my room. My little sanctuary.
The usual furnishings, A closet, bed, desk poojified into something different, Unique.
I turn around once again, My eyes cast themselves down towards what is placed on the desk in front of me. Freud. My fingers placed gently on a page. I look up, catch my reflection in the mirror above the desk. Who am I? Dark-haired, Inquisitive-eyed and dressed with a puzzled frown before breaking into a grin.
I turn and walk over to the window, The crystal gift hanging in it's frame, casting myriad rainbows danciing atop the bed, the floor. No shadows, just colour.
I'd probably think 'Id like shadows. The colours of mystery, the anonymity of it all. I lapse into a daydream of dark hues, reds, blacks, royal blues...The sleek furniture replaced with something quite different. Let us see, Dark painted walls, seeming darker through the reflections cast by the black marble floor...A grand four poster to match the closet's polished black wood and bright red interior. Turn quick towards the window, where a bright red and black star does hang, a candle glowing in it's depths like a hot coal, illuminating the room with its soft light.
I blink twice. One day, perhaps.
Let us wander out beyond this little haven. A kitchen, my own. Grab a chocolate bar from the fridge, a nibble while one surveys the fruit-bowl before we wander past and the spasm of glee subsides to take in an entirely different room. Stark but filled with a richness. The black marble floor is solid and contrasts starkly with white furniture. A mirrored ceiling reflects a soft fuzzy rug, a coffee table, a well placed beanbag or two. There are no walls, just sheets of glass. Bright lights, big city, thats where I want to be.
Humming softly we move from one place to another, past the dining table, the spare bedrooms, back to the safety of the room i'm most familiar with.
A brisk walk to a mirror, pulling it aside and entering a most beautiful room. A tub so big it'd fit four! A rack with every type of bubblebath imaginable, towels stacked softly. A book-case on hand wedged between the tub and the toilet. Soap, for the chocolate thats melted on my fingers, a glance into the mirror above the sink. Content.
Out we go, once again concealing the magic behind a mirrored panel, leaving thoughts trapped inside for another day.
Flop backwards onto the bed, breathing in the soft smell, taking in the warmth of the sun, nuzzling up against Mango's much worn fur.
Soft, padded footsteps. A fuzzy missile comes purring, pawing to the place beneath my chin. Whispered words in an attentive ear. Look up towards a mirrored ceiling, reflections. My cat and me. All book lovers have cats.
I blink twice.
My eyes cast themselves down towards what is placed on the desk in front of me. Freud. My fingers placed gently on a page. I look up, catch my reflection in the mirror above the desk and grin ruefully. Who am I? I am to be the world's greatest Psychoanalyst.
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