It was a clear early Sunday morning circa summer 2003. I had spent my Saturday (afternoon, evening and) night watching the Real World/Road Rules Challenge marathon on MTV, and with my brain thoroughly numbed, I decided to finally climb into bed. That night, I dreamt one of the most real dreams I've ever had in my life. I won't go into details but a younger, twenty-something version of my aunt, who had recently passed away was in the dream, alive and heartbreakingly beautiful. She was so vivid that I can still remember what she was wearing: a short red kurta top with delicate white embroidery, white trouser shalwar with red embroidery, a white dhuppata and a single red ribbon in her hair. I attempted to convince other relatives that my aunt, whose death I was very aware of in the dream, shouldn't have been there, alive and vibrant and well. Meanwhile, she attempted to tell me something but I was too damned scared to even look at her, well because she should have been dead.
Anyway, my aunt finally managed to corner me in my office, where I seemed to be hosting a family reunion of sorts (she entered the reunion uberdramatically, parting a line of relatives standing in the hallway with a slight gesture of the hand) and told me that I worry too much, that I'd eventually marry a wonderful man who'd make me very happy and that his name was--and she stopped just as she started to tell me his name, saying," Well, maybe I shouldn't tell you," and then she walked away.
So, the name she was about to reveal to me started with an "M" and I remember thinking "Mish," "Mich," "Mitch," and similar variations during and shortly after waking up from the dream (at which point, I'm not in the slightest bit embarrassed to confess that I ran to my parents' room and jumped into bed with them. I was terrified, it was so real). Ever since, my brothers tease me about "Mish," "Mich," or just "M," my perfect man ("Damn, you look like crap today, Sabila. What if we walked by M and you missed out on destiny? And all because you went to bed late and have dark circles under your eyes! Tsk, tsk, tsk," they'll say.
I should include somewhere in my biodata that I'm only looking for men whose first names begin with "M." I suspect such a request might get me blacklisted for life from Desi matchmaking circles.
I don't worry too much (I don't worry at all) about such ridiculous things, but I do often wonder where my M might be. Sigh.
Or not so much.
Ahem. Gag. Ahem (with some sighs thrown in there, just in case).