Bikes and everything nice (not).

Bikes are what my nightmares are made up of. Bikes and probably riding a horse but I haven’t done the latter so I guess that doesn’t really count.

          You will be surprised to know the kind of reasons I got up on a bike for, for someone who is profoundly scared of them. Well, I didn’t really come out of mother’s womb with a fear of bikes (I am sure they have a word for that also) because I remember my uncle driving round town on a bike with me behind, who would be very excited. And then, one day, a friend and I got on a neighbour’s bike, deciding to go for a joy ride, of course. We were ecstatic because our respective mothers didn’t know about this. Rebels.

          And we thought he knew what he was doing, alright. And we were well away from our house. So, mid way, a truck tries to overtake us. A BIG truck “tries” to overtake a bike. Oh no. No, wait. A scooter. Not even a bike. That’s how hilariously bad it was. So, anyway, while he was busy swerving (and moving like he was on a damn surf board), with our lives flashing by us, my friend’s left foot’s slipper fell down. We both looked at that slipper in horror because what would her mother say! And when her mother gets to know, so will mine! We were destined to be doomed. We couldn’t shout either, because etiquettes, people. What kind of unruly, rebellious girls do you think we were? Don’t answer that.

          We thought we’d talk about how it fell down a drain and we left it there. So, we were about to enter back into the neighbourhood when all three of us fell down. I don’t even know why, at that point, I was even surprised that happened. Because now when I think of it, I am not at all. It’s just something I can foresee now. And the three of us were so shocked that we didn’t move. I thought I lost both my ankles; one because it was underneath the scooter and the other, which was above and safe, because I just assumed that my legs loved each other and one wouldn’t live without the other. Don’t judge. Actually, go ahead.

          We did get out of it without a scar. But I guess the fear remained. Every time I am zooming past cars and other bulky vehicles on a busy road, I can’t help but think that the bike (an actual Bike) will crash onto a truck and my head will come out, splashing blood as it rotates in the air and finally falls down while my legs will be crushed into a bag of broken biscuits and well, the biker? I will leave that to you.

          But, since we are talking about nightmares and gory accident scenes, I will tell you this. I hate watching horror movies in a theatre. My friends, my lovely friends, don’t obviously care about that. And it wasn’t really that bad, either. I mean, my intestines and kidneys would be shouting in horror, on the inside. But I would be fine, otherwise. Then, I recently watched Annabelle. I heard it wasn’t scary at all. May be it wasn’t. But my brain begs to seriously differ.

          I went for Annabelle with Shifa. She has no problem watching a movie about a demented doll on the verge of killing every freaking body in the movie, even the baby. I am glad the family didn’t have any animals. I would have run down towards the hall screen and with the help of an axe, that will magically appear, would have shattered the screen. Don’t you dare touch the pets.

          Well, I don’t know how the movie went. I mean, I do but I don’t. Because I was too busy shielding my eyes from the horror of the possibility of a bookshelf falling down on a round little baby. I mean, I saw how it was raining books on that kid! And, I also don’t fancy peeing my pants out while screaming like a banshee. Inside a dark movie hall. Really. So, that happened. And then we went home. And obviously, the fun began when I fell asleep.

          Nope. No brownie points for guessing that books rained on me. So, my dream (or dreams) was going alright when I got stranded on a road accompanied by dark forest on either side. I was driving (Yeah, it was a dream, alright) because there wasn’t anybody else. So, I get out of my car and I am standing in front of the car. Not leaning, standing. And I see something crawling towards me. Well, I don’t know how to put this, but it wasn’t precisely crawling. If you attempt to cross a pipe-like tunnel and it’s only so much big that you can barely fit in, you move in a certain way because you are getting stuck every other second. This with the speed of the movement multiplied by 10. That thing, whoever, whatever, was moving like that towards me at that speed. I turn back to see my car has disappeared (Yeah, it was a nightmare, alright). I don’t even turn back to see if that thing was following me or not because I made a wild guess and knew that it certainly was. I run. I run like there is no tomorrow (you would agree that there wasn’t if you were there, hun). And I keep running but the chase doesn’t end or doesn’t even seem to end because it was gaining speed. I don’t really know what happened in that universe but I woke up in a pool of my own sweat. My hair was wet; the part where I was sleeping was wet. I don’t know how my roommate, with whom I share a bed with, didn’t wake up. I couldn’t really go back to sleep completely because I just kept seeing either that darned doll sitting on me or that thing in the form of a human body, crawling away to glory towards me.

          Well, took me three whole days to recover from this. If you think taking me out on a horror movie will somehow end up in a sexy time or snuggle time, I am sorry to break your heart but I don’t fly that way. That will lead only to me peeing on my seat at that moment. Take note.