He left his couch. Got dressed in the only clean shirt he has got in his closet, and jeans. Washed his face and brushed his teeth, combed his hair but haven’t looked a second at himself in the mirror, even though he did all that in front of the mirror. He grabbed his keys chain off the living room table. He turned off all the lights, opened his apartment door and left. Drove his car, not knowing where he’s heading. He just wanted an outlet, a renew, a solution, a recovery..just a way out of that cloud he’s been hanged within since so long…as if his house was that cloud and getting out of it would get him out of the cloudy weather…he felt so.
She’s on bed, thinking. She’s been in bed since so long. Her “sleep” mode, her “bed” mental syndrome that seems to never be apart from her living pattern. Doing nothing but living her fantasy. She realized she can’t stand this state any longer. She went up, had a shower, put on a white evening dress that gives her an angelic look, put on her natural make up that lets her look pure and fresh, sprayed her elegant perfume that would torture anyone in her close arena . She grabbed her keys chain off the living room table. She turned off all the lights, opened her apartment door and left. Drove her car, not knowing where she’s heading. She just wanted to wake up from the state she’s in. She wanted someone to throw cold water on her face, or slap her in the face to wake up. She wanted to clean all the dust that had accumulated on her and her heart as a result of staying still for a long time. As if, dressing to impress and getting out of her home to no specific where, is what will wake her up…she felt so.
He and She, the cloudy weather and the sleeping princess…met by destiny at a place they both reached by their cars when they left their house. A place, yet, not a destination…might be a transit, or might be a good accommodation…or might be only a state of mind, a state of souls or a state of being.
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Far away…behind the mountains, the rivers, the forests, the skies and behind anything anyone could imagine, the blue café existed.
Yes, it exists in us, at the back ground of our thoughts, behind the walls of our imaginations.
The Blue Café; a place of peace and a source of happiness, regardless if this would be temporary.
It’s a little spot, that’s opened 24-7…in our minds. It’s a hub that gathers your dreams. It’s a refuge.
The blue café is not blue in its color as blue in its senses. And it’s not the blues, rather, it is the blue of the ocean; deep, wide and embracing. There’s no ending to the blue café, no boundaries and no people, there are no creatures at all and that’s why it’s never ruined, unlike our imagination. That’s why people always dream of the blue café but they can never really go there. Yet, you can virtually –feel- like being there.
In the Blue Café there’s no one but you, even though it’s full of people. Everyone is in his own universe and you cannot see them there or feel their presence. You cannot see except those you want around you, even if they’re not present at the blue café at the same time you are.
When you put in your first step inside, you find nicely dressed and handsome receptionists welcoming you inside. “Welcome to the Blue Café, we wish you happy moments” they say. They also give a pair of wings for every visitor when entering the blue café. That was essential to have a seat, just like the essentiality of reserving before going to a special place.
Everyone at the blue café is accustomed to the blue café traditions, as if they belonged there or as if they were the founders, or as if they were special clients who are used to visiting the blue café a lot.
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“He” and “She” have always dreamt of going to the blue café. They thought -from what they hear- that it’s positioned by the sea, some said it’s over a mountain, others said it’s an island in the middle of the sea, others assumed it’s a café hanging among the clouds, and others have let their imagination guide them to a café that is placed over the rainbow.
Some people even got down to the details of it; it’s decoration, the seating, the types of music that are played, the programs which fill the café with life and even the menu and what type of food is offered, however, these were only imaginary descriptions.
“He” parked his car and entered the café. It was full of no one but him. “She” parked her car and entered the café. It was full of no one but herself and that other man.
Same table, same seat, same order, same impression.
She stood up, took two steps forward towards the other table, where “He” was sitting, pulled out the chair opposite to him and made herself comfortable on the chair.
Neither of them talked or moved, yet, that doesn’t mean there was no communication happening!
The words kept running across their minds … Just like how their soup was mixed up in the bowel in front of them. Yes, it was one bowel…they decided to eat it together with the sweet and sour taste it brings. They couldn’t really catch a snap shot for what they truly wanted; like people who lost their way to heaven, or those who lost their way in hell, or even those who were lost wondering if they’re the ones who know or the ones who don’t care.
Their wonders and their thoughts drifted them away…away from the joy of the moment,and away from the real moment of joy. Their words were still stuck at their throats, and their soup wasn’t getting any colder.
A song was playing at the back of the scene. It moved them from where they are, to where they would like to be, or to a déjàvu that flashed back many buried memories…yet still hung dreams… dreams that are portrayed and are decorating the walls of their hearts; the hearts that grew old when they were so young…yet still beating…beating to live, but seldom it is living to beat.
Their hands longed to touch, their bodies long to melt, their breaths longed to meet, they missed intimacy, not in itself, but with each other. Their knocking calls were stuck at their throats… and their soup wasn’t getting any colder.
They put on to each other a visionary gown of hopes, perfectly simulated the roads to ends, and consciously established a code of excuses, with no promises to hold on to.
In silence it was all shared…In public it was all noticed…In vein it was all claimed. Their hopes were stuck at their throats, and their soup wasn’t getting any colder, and it was all kept as their little secret, locked up at the blue café.
That was all a two way communication between them both, a moment of deep interconnection, the spark of passion mixed with a glance of fear, the boldness of obsession together with shyness of expression, a briefed history background movie played that was mingled with the unknown alternative scenarios. Nothing is meaningful more than the silent interaction; nothing is dreadful more than knowing it, yet, not having a proof.
By the clock, they’ve just met. But by the blue café’s world, they’ve been always there together. Their eyes kept hanging on each other; they haven’t yet expressed a word, but it wasn’t too long when the waiter interrupted and helped the ice berg built by the days being apart to melt.
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“Would you like to make your order now, Sir?”
For a moment, a snapshot could have been taken for the same thought thread flashing across their minds. What type of order? Yes, if there’s an order I can make, it’s that to escort us to each other, it’s to remove all the barriers between us, it’s to blink and see us together –with all what together holds of meanings.
The waiter took the orders and slipped away, as if he could sense he had disrupted a calmly flowing conversation between two lovers.
“I’m so down since you went away”
“This would double my trouble. I’m so down too”
“I miss you”
“I miss you more”
“Where have you been?”
“Close”
“What do you know that’s new?”
“I’ve stopped knowing anything new since you became a history”
“Why did you leave me?”
“I wanted to ask you the same question!”
“I’m sorry I hurt you”
“It’s me who has to apologize”
“Where are you going to?”
“I want to go with you”
“Come here”
“I want to, but I can’t...I’m still the same old story”
“Why are you complicating things?”
“Complicating things comes with different terms to you”
“I don’t care, I just want you and no one but you”
“I know, I want you too and no one but you. But I don’t want to get any of us into trouble, I don’t want to lose myself, I don’t want to cry at the end, I don’t want to seem stupid, I don’t want to ruin our friendship”
“Come on, nothing would happen as long as we’re honest and as long as we know when to take a u-turn”
“That’s the point, I don’t want to have a u-turn with you, I just want to drive the high way with you, to a destination that we both agree on and that no matter what happens and no matter the differences, we’ll do what it takes to reach it safely and happily; that’s the meaning of love. It always finds a way through”
Here, the conversation’s thread of thought seemed to come to an end, without any clear reason regardless the excuses being explained. And it doesn’t matter who said what in the conversation, because each one of them was saying something and thinking the other"
Here, the blue café seemed different. The blue café crashed with reality, that sometimes no one really understands, even the person explaining it. The reality made up by us, the reality we perceive and that might not essentially be the real reality.
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