Every time I wake up, the first thing that I see is my white ceiling. When I have seen vivid dreams, where I am either happy or sad, in an adventure, call back to reality is when I open my eyes to see my ceiling. When I was young, we shifted our house to the city. I had lived in an open space since infancy, moving to the city was tough and I hated every morning when I open my eyes and saw the house with charcoal black wooden ceiling painted with white Chun (limestone.) It made me realize for the first time what feeling stuck was like. Over the years, my mother worked on our house to make it more amicable. She put white covers on the ceiling to protect the dust from falling. I had made it a norm to see those white cloth every morning and it was a new day. It was my home.
When I shifted to boarding school, I used to sleep in the lower bunk of the bunk bed. I was homesick and dreamed of my family and home. So, every morning, when I saw those four metal rods and wooden plank, the accelerated realization made me morose hence I stopped sleeping on my back.
Over the years, I have moved every other year to a new place, new city, or new country but almost all of the houses have a white ceiling that takes some days to get used to. I had a dream this morning, it was a nightmare, I had to force myself to wake up, and when I did, I saw the white ceiling from my childhood, the limestone painted charcoal burnt wooden ceiling, the feeling of being stuck. I turned to my side because even in the dream, I did not face the truth of being stuck.
