Monday, June 22, 2015


The pillow felt so soft. I was feeling so tired and longing for the moment when I could rest my head on it, close my eyes and shut out the entire world.  I could smell the soft sweet fragrance of the pillow cover.  The sheets had been changed that day and it felt clean, crisp and fresh.  I always take the same pillow wherever I travel, otherwise I simply cannot sleep.  It is strange how small little things, how simple details of life can make such a big difference.  They can be a cause of great joy…or the source of immense misery!  I remember going to a conference once and not being able to sleep all night because the pillow was too big and hard for my liking. On another occasion, the pillow had an unpleasant aroma and I just couldn’t stand it.  After that, wherever I went, my pillow went as well. 

I used to do a lot of travelling and having to take a pillow along could be a source of considerable inconvenience, especially when taking trains. However, luckily, I’m the kind of person that prefers low pillows and so mine is easily folded into a suitcase. 

Somehow, it has become a friend, a close companion, a silent bedfellow. Can objects be that? Well pillows can definitely be that.  It has shared with me innumerable nights, being there when I’m restless and unable to sleep, tossing and turning until I doze off in the wee hours of the morning.  It has soaked in my tears on countless nights, when I was heartbroken, or when a loved one passed away, or when I was feeling miserable for some reason or other.  It kept me comfort on my travels as I relaxed my back against it while going over documents on my laptop, or reading a novel to relax my mind from the days exhausting work.
My pillow knows all my secrets, my deepest feelings, the darkest corners of my soul.  It has been a silent witness to my amorous encounters, sharing my sweet passionate moments, lying quietly under my head as bodies embrace in a fiery dance of love. It has also witnessed my moments of rage…of extreme jealousy…of mad desire to take revenge…to be cruel…to inflict hurting and pain….

I move my hand over my pillow, feeling its familiar contours.  I love its softness, its touch, its shape. My body, mind and soul feel relaxed as I lie for a few moments, feeling safe and secure as it gently and lovingly holds my head.  I am relieved that they allowed me to bring it here. It is the only thing that reminds me of my home, of my life, of myself.  When I hug it tightly, all the beautiful memories and moments of my life come alive and I can simply close my eyes and pretend I am not here, not in prison, not sentenced to the rest of my years behind bars.  It makes me feel that a part of my life is still safe and secure, that some things don’t change, even if everything else does.

The lights turn off as I hear the cringing of the prison doors shutting close. I curl up with my pillow like a snail curls up in its protective shell.  As deep darkness surrounds me, I shut my eyes and cling to my soft cushion as if clinging to life itself. 

In the looming silence of my prison cell, I hear only the echoes of my heart...I see only the imaginings of my dreams…I feel only that familiar I lie here…silently…with my pillow.