The  Glass Tunnel 

Sometimes when I wake up before I should, dreams and reality mix. Ghosts from my dreams slip into my bedroom and sit beside me. Some try to suffocate me and some just like to call for me. However, a glass tunnel separates us, we live in different realms. I can only hear them, and we can only long for each other. So, I chose to write a poem about them.

I’m wondering who could be here,

a friendly ghost sits comfortably near.

I walk about the inside of my skull

And all of you turn into me

I know it’s really hard to see

The sun holds his light into my eyes

If I scratched the walls

They’d fall into my hands

Dusting my thighs


The sea isn’t green

Life is less than I’ve seen

My pet lizard keeps calling

for me

But you say she’s mean.

She knows a tree

Full of birds who sing for you and me

And in this room

full of different tunes

We could sing to the moon

And I’d let you become me

And we would float across the sea

Looking out on the day

I always hear what you say

You could swallow a piece of me

and pretend you don’t see.

I had a bike

I rode it when I liked

It had a bell but no light

I almost fell off it

But didn’t lose my sight

Sometimes when you crave company, but not chatter, only a comfortable silence makes do. Imaginary friends are the only ones who truly comprehend the complexities of thoughtful silence. Most of us abandon them after weaning off of childhood, yet they still visit us. Only the glass wall we built up between our younger and adult self separates us. 

-Chandrima Dey

F.Y B.Sc. Economics

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