Stepping Into The Unexplained – Dream Diary

I have not updated the dream diary since almost one year. Last year had been very disturbing at many levels and I am still coming to terms with various aspects. Though there was always a certain kind of fluidity in my dreams all through the year and the nights were always live with  dreams that were more real than reality there wasn’t anything that struck me very strongly. Mostly the family members feel I sleep soundly but the brain is active or maybe I should say wandering. It is usually not connected with the daily living. The people are unknown, so are the places but there is a feeling a feeling of Déjà vu.  The accompanying male figure in many of my dreams is my elder son. Maybe because he too is very receptive to the unknown or maybe because he is an emphatic match.

This constant fleeting between dreams and wakefulness has actually disrupted the usual sleep routine but now this seems normal. Some may find such dreams crazy or even macabre but that is what makes them so profound. I feel I am always at the threshold of consciousness. I thought my long term insomnia has become a gross feeder for such events but then I do seem fast sleep to others which is intriguing. I’ve had dreams that have left very vivid impressions on my memory. More vivid than the physical reality we experience. I believe that the depth of the experience and the alternative reality is limited to select few but most of us are never able to validate it as we would an event in physical reality. We are never able to bridge the gap.

I have a strong feeling that science, society, religion has boxed us in by limiting our thinking. There is a lot that is unexplained and unexplored with regards to human brain and what we term as “real”.  It is evident that the brain does have some functions beyond what science has already examined. Society builds our box for us, we sometimes feel confined to it because we don’t want to look odd, feel silly or out of place. Personally, I love exploring and seeing what’s out there, beyond the confines of my box which is truly not defined. It may seem odd to others but to me that is  the essence of life. I don’t know how to articulate it properly but in my thinking there is a connect between the universal energies and us. That is why some people are psychic.

Every living thing has consciousness has a connection to everything else in the universe. We are all sort of wired together and sometimes we go beyond the realms of physical world. There may be many reasons for the sensed presence, intuitions, out of body experience or such other things. I read about quantum mechanics of brain and it is fascinating. “When people have a near-death experience, all that quantum information leaves the brain, yet continues to exist, which is why some people report out-of-body experiences and lights at the end of tunnels. I think it says a lot about other such experiences too. One needs to explore. Having said that, it may be the confirmation of our perceptions too.”

We all carry a certain energy within and around us and many of us can sense that. It is an intuitive quality which is inborn but many of us lose it because of the conditioning of our minds by the environment. We are programmed to think and feel in a certain manner and anything that does not subscribe to it is frowned upon. Just as the women healers, psychic, clairvoyant were termed as witches and killed since ancient times.

Some places / people drain you out or make you happy, you feel comfortable in some homes or rooms and not in others  that is because you can feel the energy they emit, it is the same with things that we are unaware of or which are beyond the realms of our understanding. The law of attraction.

There is a fascinating world out there and within us and we know so little.

I remember someone telling me that I may be turning schizophrenic or may have a neurological dysfunction that I am not aware of. I don’t think so. Some people are psychic, intuitive, they have transcendental out of body experiences.

I have felt presence around me many times but they aren’t what the stories tell us. Not shadow beings, transparent apparitions with cold air around them, mostly there is a warmth. Some may say it is dues to the lack of it in the real world for me but I have felt the reverse too. It isn’t scary but it is definitely something I haven’t experienced before and yet there is always something which can relate to my physical life.

Some life energies take more than usual time to crossover and cling to this plane. They even feed off you at times. They prefer to stay earthbound. The reasons could be many. Sometimes they choose to stay  and at others they just hover because of some unfinished business. Energy can not be destroyed, it just changes forms and it is these forms we experience at times. We are like cosmic magnets and our viberational energies attract other energies from spaces around us. I think it is based on our thoughts and emotions and our receptiveness in finding our  matching energy. Our bodies are aligned with nature and the universe in the larger sense.  I am no expert so these are my personal beliefs. I think I never fitted in the norm and was always a little bit of an outsider. Maybe wit ha little bit of sixth sense.

This post may seem like a rambling and it is that. It is a portal for discussion for you. The dreams, the sightings, the intuitiveness,  precognition in a very limited or discreet way are some of the aspect of this being different.

We were having an interesting discussion about the two simultaneous photographs I took last year in the dinning area of my house and I just felt like sharing it here.

Here is the pic and it is open for interpretation. Play or light and shadow or something beyond that ?


These two pix were taken on a lovely sunny April afternoon around five o’clock. I was flirting with the mobile phone camera around the house and taking shots of light and shadows. When I focused on the wall in our dinning area I was rather surprised at what I saw. The chair was empty and yet there was a shadow image on the wall. No one was in the room except me. I opened the phone gallery to examine the pic again and could make out an old/middle aged man’s figure so I looked again at the wall. Nothing was visible to the naked eye. I positioned the camera and took a pic again. This time there was no figure. It could be a play of light but I was intrigued. A dream I had day before and a discussion about keeping the ashes of dead family members brought me back to this picture. So I leave you to ponder over this and one more question, is it proper to keep the ashes in the house? Is it proper to flow half of it in the river and keep the other half at home? Is it okay to divide cremation ashes? Are these beliefs tradition/ religion based? I know about keepsake urns etc.  

I must say again that I am not superstitious, just curious…



Haunted – Two Poems


She was like that house upon the hill

that no one wants to live in

the one whose scarred walls

hold dark secrets and whose

darkened windows are like

empty eye sockets

that silent, uneasy house

which even the poltergeists avoid

no one ever goes there

but when you pass it there is

always a suggestion of movement

the sound of a door closing

a flicker of light in the emptiness—

haunted and haunting at the same time


We were sitting at the edge of the river

exactly where we’d met a few days before.

 “There is a deathly silence today,” he said,

“‘Deathly’ is the wrong adjective for silence.

Death is not silent.

It is more vociferous than life and anyway

there is never complete silence,

the mind is continuously moving through

the quiet of the inanimate.”

“That’s rubbish.

Silent as the dead is a known idiom,” he replied.

“It is, so is the quote, ‘“silence speaks louder than words.’”

“Have you ever been to a cemetery, a morgue—

or better still a graveyard,

or stood ‘quietly’ where the dead are put to flames?

You must.

The noise of the dry bones overrides everything.

There is nothing louder than dead air,

a dead relationship, dead dreams, dead promises.

Death, my friend, is anything but silent.” I paused.

“Death may not be silent but silence can still be deathly

and that’s what I said” he insisted,

though I felt his conviction wavering a little.

“Silence is not just lack of movement or sound.

 It is the same with death.”

Snapshot – GBE 2 Week #66

His hands trembled as he tried to light a cigarette. It took him five tries to get it right. He leaned against the wall to steady himself. Everything was a blur. His mind became warped.  He could see nothing, think nothing.  And then came the tears. They ebbed and flowed like seasonal flood. Only that his was not seasonal. He hadn’t cried in years. Slowly streaming down his face like hot lava at first and then like a deluge that surprised even him, hot water for pain like blood flowing from an open wound. Perhaps it was a wound. He did not know, couldn’t think, and couldn’t stop.

She came to him not like a memory but a stray thought. A thought that catches you unaware at the least expected moment. It was something he didn’t want but he wept all the same, shedding all inhibitions. He slumped to the floor and wept like never before into the deep night.

And then it stopped as suddenly as it started. A dull ache swept through his body, a cocktail of myriad emotions that he could not decipher in a single moment. It drained him out.

He lit another cigarette and took a deep extended drag and felt the smoke fill his lungs. Slowly he exhaled and through the smoke screen he saw her. She must have been in her early twenties. He had just begun his career as a photographer and travelled all over the world. People, places fascinated him. He found a story behind mundane objects inanimate objects and infused life in them through his lens. He first spotted her near a roadside café. The city was shimmering in bright sunlight after an early summer rain. The breeze flirted with her waist long windswept hair as she stood with her hands embracing a hot mug of coffee. The harbour in the background made a pretty picture of her. He could see the hint of mascara in her deep dark eyes. She was dressed in a floral dress that clings to her voluptuous body giving it a sensuous flow.

She seemed oblivious to her surroundings. Near her, on a wrought iron table, lay a book. The pages fluttered like hummingbird’s wings. Unable to contain himself he pulled out his camera and focused on her. From behind his powerful lens he could see how ravenously beautiful she was. She did not wear any make up but her face shone like molten bronze. He zoomed a bit more and studied her profile mesmerized to react. It was like a dream sequence. He quickly clicked one snapshot after another and then stopped as if under a spell. His eyes still glued to the viewfinder. She brushed her hair back in a dancer like sweep and in one swift motion picked up the book and vanished in the sea of people who has emerged from a nearby mosque.

Before he could realize he had lost her.

Cursing himself for a lost opportunity he briskly walked back to the hotel unable to stop the excitement of looking at the pictures. On uploading he could find only one of the many he had clicked. Rest of it was as black as night. He was puzzled and angered at this unusual occurrence but the eyes that gazed at him from the screen of his laptop held him captive. For the next six days he went out every day in the city looking for her.

And then he saw her again, this time in a book shop. She wore a plain black dress and had tied her hair in a swirl. He made no mistake this time and approached her from behind. She suddenly turned as if aware of his presence. A little startled he stopped in his steps. His knees became jelly as she beamed at him.

‘You took my picture that day at the harbour, didn’t you?” she said in honeyed voice. She was a Latino for sure. He made a mental note of it.

‘So, you noticed.’ He smiled back.

For his age he was exceptionally fit and good-looking and he could see that in the mischievous twinkle of her eyes.

“Would you give me a copy of it?”

“Yes, of course” he said.

He took out the printed copy of her snapshot from his wallet and handed it to her. He felt the warmth of her body pass like an electric current through his body.

What was wrong with him? Stupefied, he picked up a white rose from a nearby vase and carefully tucked it in her hair. She didn’t stop him.

She glanced herself in the glass door, smiled softly, placed the snapshot in the book she was carrying and left without a second glance. He inhaled deeply absorbing her fragrance and came out in the street. She was nowhere in the sight.

He left the city two days later for another assignment. They never met again but her memory stayed with him every moment. She became an invisible companion who filled the emptiness of his life. In those moments of quiet when he was alone with himself he created memories with him, made love to her, walked hand in hand through empty walkways and streets of cities he travelled. She became his shadow. He never felt alone and for some reason he was happy.

It was twenty-five years ago.

He went to island of Majorca many times and every time his eyes had searched for her.

A tear silently left the corner of his eyes. He dragged himself to the window and looked at the dark night sky. It seemed to have become deeper than ever. The breeze brought  fragrance of winter roses from the manicured gardens of the hotel.

He closed his eyes. How could he not recognise her face even from under hundreds of tubes that ran everywhere? He felt a lump rise in his throat. What had brought her to this godforsaken city in America? Where was she all these years? He cursed himself for not ever asking for an address or a phone number back then. He always believed that the universe will conspire to bring them together again but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined it to be like this.

He was in New York to attend to his ailing mother. She was the only other patient in the room that smelled of nothing but sanitized air. It was on her bedside table he had found the book of verses. Mom had told him amidst uncontrollable sobs, how the frail lady on the other bed had handed her book to the attending doctor and gestured him to pass it on to her just before she died, the book which she always kept close to her frail heart. An emotional avalanche hit him the moment he recognized it.He had stared in stoned silence at the book, unable to breathe, his eyes transfixed on the empty bed to his left.. He had picked it with trembling hands as everything else had slowly begun to fade around him. The snapshot had slipped and fallen near her feet and he was once again held captive by those gorgeous eyes. It was then he noticed for the first time the sadness that filled them. With great effort he had managed to pick the photograph and the book and unable to withhold the surge of pain and hurt of loss he had rushed out of the hospital as if driven by some hidden force.

The flutter of paper brought him out of trance. The breeze had become stronger and the pages of the book were fluttering like wings of hummingbird, just as they were on that summer day. The snapshot lay in their shadow.

This post is written for GBE2- WEEK #66 (8-19-12 to 8-25-12): Snapshot


Unexpected :GBE2 Week #63

Looking back at life I kept reflecting on how I undertook many journeys, often those that I never planned to take and how they took me to unexpected destinations. Some of them were exactly what I wanted, others not so.

Even now there are decisions to make and surprises in store. The future is never set in stone.

Sometimes we come at the crossroads and need to make some life changing decisions, take some stands and these shift the entire universe around us and then unexpected and unpredictable things happen, which take us out of an uncomfortable situation but also take us over and change our lives forever.

For me, freedom came in strange forms and from unexpected directions.

Unexpected!  My living itself was unexpected.


Read here : The day I was Born 

Life made me chart my paths in an unknown territory.

Most of the time the ground beneath my feet shifted unexpectedly and it took me immense effort to keep my balance and stand firm to move ahead with the flow.

Some dreams died an unexpected death, such as:

My rendezvous with Spanish Language and desire for further studies in Latin America, a dream to live there

A love affair which had everything but ‘love’ and ended in a disastrous and life altering decision

My marriage, which I thought would bring me the companionship and love I was yearning for

At every step, life felt like shifting sand dunes beneath my feet.

This was a roller coaster which was speeding on a rail that had no fixed destination but had all the usual ups and downs, twists and turns.  As it plunged into unknown or shot up like a rocket heading into space, I waited breathlessly for the unexpected to reveal. Not knowing if I would be thrown over and succumb or come out a winner and live.

Even the mundane seemed like an unfamiliar territory marked by unpredictable.  People, places, and turn of events that took me by unawares and hurled me into some totally new situation to deal with.

This broken road with pitfalls and sharp turns and unexpected traverses brought me joy and adventure too. Sometimes out of chaos emerge the most unexpected and beautiful delights. It took me over an invisible wall and life again changed in least expected ways, demolishing all old things in its path.

Sometimes I feel that the word “unexpected” has lost its meaning in my life due to its continuity and yet  it surprises me by springing up at unexpected places from unexpected directions.

Love for instance. Friendships spread over the globe, virtual and yet so real. People connected through some unknown energy. Bonds woven together like colourful wondrous threads of a tapestry. I began to realize that some things made sense only in reverse and one needed to trust in advance and surrender to it with that knowledge.

I have seen that it is in times of struggle that I found the best parts of myself – courage, loyalty, love, an unexpected peace within, poise and joy. Somehow I always discovered what I needed to break through or break away from to go on with life.

Today, universe is helping me realize some of my dreams and I can say that I expect the unexpected with a lot more conviction and strength than before.

True love and friendship unexpectedly transforms lives. Empty spaces get filled, pieces begin to fall into places and life opens up with a newness unseen before.

It gives a reason to live, to push through the fear.

I am at a point where life has taken a completely new direction and each day is a new discovery but unlike before even with an intuitive knowledge of impending uncertainty I am prepared to ride the storm.

Now that we are talking about the unexpected let me share something more.

I want my death to be unexpected.


Whoosh !


This post is written for GBE 2 WEEK #63 (7-29-12 to 8-4-12): Unexpected

Driblets : Lost and Found Poems

and there she stands wearing midnight

my relentless pursuer

waiting to strike again


you underestimate me


Looking for something ?

I believe this is your knife ..

you left it in my back .

A word of advice – Be careful with knives they have minds of their own


Venus flytrap

hungry hugs

kiss of death

Oh, Please ! your old tricks have lost their sting

try something new

Something more exciting

more challenging

you still underestimate me


The night spilled some of the dark element before plunging into the dawn 

and then came the rain 

riding on the wings of  storm 

 tapping on window panes sighing

 and its  shrill mournful voice 

singing a  requiem  for  the love lost 

sinking its talons in heart 

drawing blood

warm crimson splendor

pulsating with memories

  acerbic brew

death raises a toast 

as the wet bruised sun watches 

from behind the clouds at dusk


If only I could ……

The book of life is brief
And once a page is read,
All but love is dead.
That is my belief.

And, yes, I know how loveless life can be.
The shadows follow me, and the night won’t set me free.

The deep voice of Perry Como  floats with the cool early winter morning breeze . It’s been a week now that I have been lying awake gazing at the glow stars on the ceiling of my bedroom, awake and nostalgic.

Memories fill and make my heart heavy and if at all I close my eyes I go back to those beautiful times as a teenage girl. Remembrance of the time spent together exploring places, singing songs , lying under the clear blue sky or just silently holding hands and gazing at each other  comes back to me as a deluge.  We lived in different cities , lived a different life or at least pretended to live and then suddenly you were gone. Just like that.

You sang to me when we found time and the lines  from Perry como’s song ‘For the good times’

” there’ll be time enough for sadness when you leave me ”  haunt me now.

The memory of first love is a bitter-sweet symphony. Now I look back think what all could have happened if only ….

Sitting by the window I watch the colorful dust motes dance in the early winter sun and  think that the only reason we endure the pain is because the only other option is to be alone.  I feel the warm stream of tears roll down my cheeks and press my face against the pillow .  Although it hurts sometimes we still feel something  even if it is only our own two warm arms wrapped around the soft pillow when everyone else is so cold.  Pain that bitter fruit we got to eat for the nourishment it gives.

When sleep begins to heal and mend my heart I feel your presence. Is it because  they say death brings people closer than what they were when alive. I go back in time and tie all the loose ends. I become the child in my Grandma’s home where we found  love.

The little things we did , those stolen moments of sheer ecstasy, love that had many shades but had no name . It all remained unsaid but not unexpressed because many a times one doesn’t need words . Silently the eyes say it all.

We were first cousins after all.

Summer love, stardust and fireflies

The coming together, the brief stay, the parting and then  your death.

Teri Yadd Sath Hai

Last year was tough and now two years later the ebb and flow of pain continues.

If  I could turn back the time

If I could find a way

If I could reach the stars

If …

Last Night Together

“Oh, come on guys, give me a break please. I don’t smoke weed damn it. This  is just a plain cigarette.”

Rajam was a chain smoker who took life lightly. It was impossible to picture him without a cigarette between his fingers.  We tried to make him break this habit  but Rajan was one of those teenagers who believed that all bad things happened to other people.

“I am born lucky ” He used to laugh . ” My heart is young , my body is adapted to cigarettes, I won’t die of any damn  lung cancer and I know my heart will never fail me. So what doesn’t kill me makes me strong ”

We gave up.

He continued to make  smoke rings.

Staying alone gave him more freedom to experiment with life.

Everything came easy to him.

We were together last night. Sitting at the pub as usual. We were allowed night outs only on weekends.

I decided to drop him that day. There was a garlic like odor in his flat.

” Just a gas leak I guess. I can fix it”,  He said and vanished into kitchen before I could open my mouth.


Rajan was right.

He did not die of  cancer and his heart never failed him.

Death : As I See It

Death says:

Fear me not

face me not with trepidation

Hold my hand


let me be your guide

let me lead you

to the next journey

This fear arises from uncertainty and inability to control a certain situation. We have achieved almost a total control over birth but Death remains a mystery. Fear of unknown  leads to questions about after life , and the clinging attitude makes us even more scared of losing that which actually is not even ours. I believe that the body is just a vehicle for the soul and the soul never dies , it continues to wander from one place to another using the bodies as stopovers. See life as an energy form that is continuously flowing, with birth and death mere catalysts changing the course of the flow.

Osho says,”To know life in its insecurity is to know life in its immense beauty, is to know life in its authenticity. To know life in its insecurity, without any fear, is to transcend death, because life never dies.”

I love going to the cemeteries. It helps me understand life and enjoy it more because I know that one day my body will also lie there. It gives wisdom to understand both the doors of one’s soul. Birth and death and the journey  in between.

We are insecure lot and the basic fear of death generates all the other fears in us. We can’t let go , we want to hold on even to life. In that process we choke it , stop its flow. Die a million deaths every moment.

When something ends it gives birth to something new. I see death as freedom from all the burdens we carry through life.

I am not a follower of any one person but I have come across people who have given a completely new dimension to my thinking.

One such person is Jiddu Krishnamurti .

Here is what he says about Death . I agree when he says Death is a word, an image  and that image creates fear.

He says ,”Thought, which breeds the fear of death, says, ‘Let’s postpone it, let’s avoid it, keep it as far away as possible, let’s not think about it- but you are thinking about it. When you say, ‘I won’t think about it’, you have already thought out how to avoid it. You are frightened of death because you have postponed it.

We have separated living from dying, and the interval between the living and the dying is fear. That interval, that time, is created by fear. Living is our daily torture, daily insult, sorrow and confusion, with occasional opening of a window over enchanted seas. That is what we call living, and we are afraid to die, which is to end this misery. We would rather cling to the known than face the unknown – the known being our house, our furniture, our family, our character, our work, our knowledge, our fame, our loneliness, our gods – that little thing that moves around incessantly within itself with its own limited pattern of embittered existence.”

I love these articles by Osho. He explains death in a very profound way .

Life is certainly a celebration and so is death. I see death as feminine  , as friend who will hold your hand and take you to yet another wonderful journey .

I am sharing an excellent article Dealing with Death by Prashant Karhade in this post. Prashant is a friend and compiler and publisher of Ripples . He is a wonderful writer himself and when hen he shared this article with me I immediately connected with it and decided to share it with you all.

A rather long post but do read it .

Life Is ; Death is Not By Prashant Karhade

Here is a part of the article :Dealing with Death

Then one day I was at home, sitting out in the verandah, when I saw a spider weaving its web. I had never really seen a spider in action before. As I watched it closely, I couldn’t help but marvel at its skill and efficiency. And then out of nowhere, I felt something I hadn’t felt ever before. I felt one with it. I realized that it was the exact same life force that coursed through its veins and mine. It was at that moment that I truly understood the meaning of what Swami Vivekananda once said while talking about death. He said, “How can I die when an earthworm still lives?”

That day I realized that I am only one of the infinite manifestations of the indestructible life force that has no beginning and no end, “anaadi anant” as they say in Hinduism. And then everywhere I looked, I saw the same indestructible, omnipresent, and omnipotent life force in action. I had no choice but to accept that there is only one thing in our hands – do our infinitesimal bit and watch life unfold in front of our eyes. In a strange way, it reduced the fear of death which is what I was seeking in the first place. But it didn’t happen because of some grand spiritual enlightenment but due to a simple realization. Of course, UGK would say that at best I have only seen the fruit; I haven’t tasted it. But even that is not bad at all.

Today, death is still very much a part of my life; at least every tenth thought of mine is that I am a mortal being and am going to die one day. But it isn’t nearly as scary as it was before. On the contrary, it has brought a lot of positives into my life.

First and foremost, death has brought a sense of urgency to my life like only death can, and everyday it forces me to live life to the fullest. I always have this feeling that I don’t have any time to waste because I don’t know when life might come to an end, and therefore, I have to make every moment count. And it is this sense of urgency that enables me to do just a bit more than I would have done otherwise. That brings a lot of positives of its own.

Death also helps me keep things in perspective. Every time something doesn’t go my way, the first thought that comes to my mind is, “Never mind. I still have blood gushing through my veins. All my loved ones are also still around. So nothing is lost really. I am just gonna give it another shot. If it happens, it happens. Otherwise, it wasn’t meant to be.” It is the lack of this perspective, and the fact that we take ourselves and everything happening around us far too seriously sometimes, that is the root cause of most of our problems.

A straight from the heart masterpiece of writing. It stayed with me for a long time. It hits you hard and makes you ponder over those aspects of your journey called life  that you usually don’t think about.

I wrote this poem long time back


Death, she waits for me silently,

on hunches.

Waiting for the day when I will lend

my hand to her.

And together we will explore

what lies beyond.

Death, my life’s twin

it’s with her I have to spend

the next part of my journey.

Where I shall be free of all bondage and fears,

where my spirit will sour to unknown heights.

I long to meet her.

My liberator.

And soon we will be one

cruising along to the world unknown.

I too have lost my loved ones and I did grieve for them for we are used to their physical presence  but ultimately I realized that the face, the body fades away from the memory and what remains is their journey of life , good or bad. I felt that my father’s life enriched mine in more than one ways and though I felt sad that he was no more there ,I did not grieve for him. My experience with him was total and complete.

I learned it hard way  and I am still trying to carry out it in my life.

One simple fact

celebrate life( yours and especially of those who have moved on to another journey of soul) , un”cling” , let go, enrich yourself from whoever comes into your life , be open and curious and just flow ….



Struggle : Haiku


stifled , silent cry,

ripples  echo  life song

an unsung struggle

{Say NO to Female Infanticide }

Originally I had written this as a Terset but changed it to make it into a Haiku . Here is the original one  .

stifled cry, silently screaming, ripples

echo a song of life, a death unsung

struggle for life cut short

*image courtsey Google*

Free Fall : Short Story

First published in Ginger Chai you ,Me ,We

The gorge looked breathtakingly beautiful from the precarious edge of the rock.

A tingling sensation ran through his spine.

Vodka or Vertigo ?

His brain stopped registering.

Soon he was plummeting earthwards.

A deep vertical fall. Fear gripped him.

Insane rush of blood flooded his body.

An altered state of consciousness.

Slowly his eyes closed. A sharp pain slashed his chest.


One long drop and stop.

His friends watched in horror.

He had never watched a 3D movie before.