Inside My Granny's Old Little Jewelry Box

         Until now I’d never been able to understand why my grandmother treasured that old little jewelry box so much.

         I open my eyes to another seemingly ordinary day, but today my alarm hasn’t gone off. Looking out the window, I notice yesterday’s twilight hasn't gone; I couldn't forget the mauve colors carved in golden threads; I'm sure it's the same as yesterday. The air feels different on my face, thicker; and there's a strong smell of coffee that seems to come from everywhere, but who's brewing it? The dogs aren’t barking; the silence I’ve longed for so much every day now reveals itself to me more as a bizarre absence of everything. I urgently need a cup of black coffee to drive away this dreamlike sinister feeling.
         My walk to the bathroom is taking long.

–The image of the box won't leave me–.

         It's like I'm dragging my sleeping, heavy body along the corridor. I look at myself in the mirror and recognize a glimmer of normality in the dark circles under my eyes, proof of the insomnia that I seem to have been born with. I must wash my face to bring my eyes back to life, but is it coffee what’s coming out of the faucet?
          The color is distinctive; the aroma, unmistakable. I dare not try it though. Not yet.
          I’m going to the kitchen now. I must move, stupefied and all.
         Surely a cup of steaming black coffee, real coffee, will snap me out of my madness. I knew that so many sleepless nights would get to me someday. As I enter the kitchen, my peripheral vision deceives me; things aren’t where they should be; many others are missing. I don't feel like turning around to see that I’ve gone mad; besides, I hadn’t realized it before, but I’m really thirsty. So I go straight to the fridge; I open it, and oh... Wait! My water jugs are filled with what looks like coffee?
          The color is characteristic; the aroma, unmistakable. I dare not try it though. Not yet.
I need water. I carry my sleeping body to the kitchen sink, and guess what. More coffee is coming out of the tap!

          I've come to the backyard, but only coffee will come out of the hose.
          Should I try in the front yard?
          The grass feels wet under my feet. This is good. But wait, is it? I lift my feet, I see that they are wet with coffee, thick coffee with a strong earthy smell.
         Outside the window, the beautiful mauve twilight, embroidered in golden threads is untouched. The long, lonely street makes me feel so tiny that my stomach shrinks. I don't remember my name, or what happened yesterday. I really need help.
          Across the street, there’s a house with people inside. I’m coming.

         Finally, the lady in the kitchen sees me. Good morning, sweetie. Would you like a cup of water; we’re trying a new brand. I'm just too thirsty, even for a madwoman, so what the heck. Sure, I say in a rather questioning tone and with my voice higher pitched. I get my cup of fresh water and an odd stare. As I drink it, I feel my senses awaken; the cool, totally tasteless liquid is paradoxically delicious and gratifying. The name of my neighbor comes to my lips: Thank you, Joan! I remember my name, too. Awesome.
         I’m going back home.

         I start exploring every room, every corner. I'm frantic—Gosh, that water is something—. I double check; some things have been moved and others are missing.
         I go back to the kitchen and encourage myself to try the coffee coming out of the tap. It’s delicious and seems to be just what I needed to calm the effect of the water. I remember that I need to take a shower and go to work. Sure I'm late.
         I go to the bathroom, but my newly gained conscience tells me that no water will come out of the shower as I haven't brewed any this morning so I can take that shower. Anyway, I brush my teeth with coffee—feels fine—. I force myself to act normal, or rather this world forces me. I must learn to live with my madness. Hasn't it always been like that?
         I’ve come back to my room, and as soon as I’m here, I see that the clock isn’t ticking yet. My grandmother's old little jewelry box sticks out its open mouth, as if talking to me. Remember...
         An oneiric logic, perhaps, pushes me to look inside. Nothing. Then I get my hand inside and swoosh!

I'm back in my room, but my real room; I can see the clear sky behind the window pane. The second hand of the clock moves, echoing. I look around; everything is in its place. I am back in my room, half of my arm still inside the little box inside one of the bins of my late granny. Oh my, whatever just happened? Was I daydreaming?
         The note next to the bag says, "Find me if you ever come here."
I'm here still trying to decipher the mystery of my grandmother's old little jewelry box as a faint aroma of coffee and wet earth leads me to examine my body.
         The color is characteristic; the aroma, unmistakable. The coffee still smells fresh on the soles of my feet.

Thank you so much for your reading :)

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All text and images are my own. I have taken the pictures with my Redmi 9T cell phone. And if any GIFs here, I've used GIPHY for all them.