Everything gets muddled.

I was dreaming about the pictures. I was flipping though a pile of them and one of them captured the five brothers, including my grandfather and suddenly I wanted to devour them, to find more pictures that had my grandfather. But I wanted to be thorough, so I stared from the beginning and his pictures were not in that lot, but then my compulsive disorder kicked in and I started sorting them and I woke up even before I could reach the pile that contained my grandfather’s pictures. I came to office with a slight headache and in a daze. It’s the jet lag. I met Raashi and I realized I had to tell her so much that happened the night before, my conversation with Shikha, with mummy, what all I purchased, the pictures of that one night in DC. I continued the re-telling, every instance and all possible times. Then came the talk with amma, “Where is my purse? Did you get my purse? How will you give it to me?” I replied, I lied. I hung up and then the discussions during lunch. Chocolate. I go out for passive smoking and have a weird conversation about death. Then coming back inside, again I went and sat with Raashi and started telling her about lunch. I think even she is getting tired of all this back and forward of information. Its relentless and so mindless and so much. I just read the article on my office politics. And I got more muddled. Life can be so simple. No secrecy, no backlash, Live and Let live. Instead there is secrecy, there is conceit, there is dishonesty and there is deceit, there is false ego and the innate ability to hurt others. Maybe not intentional, but at least selfish and self-serving. It feels like I have travelled a lot in a span of few hours. From the dreams to this writing. Its taking time in sorting itself. What to think and what to do.