The Man from my Dreams

Trigger Warning: Implications of rape occur throughout the following story which may be sensitive to some.

“A starry night often may not accompany the light to see everything." Ammi used to say this a lot, I remember. I flip the rupee bills in my hand as I stare at a fat cop, sizing me up with his eyes. Why do I remember that all of a sudden? I keep wondering as I'm suddenly startled by a loud clap. 

"You sure that 'chhokra' can do the job?" he said as he pointed at Jamal sitting on a broken stool near the pale, cracked wall. 

Jamal stared at me with nervously adamant eyes as I answered, "You don't worry about it, 'Sahib'. We will get the 'maal' for you." 

The cop held out his pistol and shined it upon my eyes, "I hope so," and walked away as he chewed on his tobacco.

"That man is not good," said Jamal in a quivering, low voice.

"Quiet!"

The alleys of the slums were rarely safe for words, as they oozed out often to reach people who might cause trouble. As the clock ticked nine, I began walking down the alley with a bag full of rupee notes. It was dimly lit with brass lanterns, only lighting it up to barely make things visible around me. Indeed, a starry night sky enveloped us above, but these narrow lanes were always dark and full of unknowns.

"What's that?" Jamal pointed at a dark figure at some distance. I squinted my eyes, but then everything vanished, and my vision was now but a fluctuating train of glimpses. "Shahid bhaiya, run!" I could hear Jamal screaming. I opened my eyes, and I saw Jamal running behind me. Ahead of me was a six feet tall man with his face covered with a towel as he walked toward me. I looked at his hand, holding a knife as he started walking faster. 

Faster. 

He sprinted toward me with the blade and screamed. I froze. I couldn't move. I wish Jamal would help me. I wish he were here. Where did he go? The man had reached me, he was a meter away, yet he seemed miles away.

I could see him desperately sprinting as he screamed. I crouched halfway and gathered all my strength. I saw the knife in his hand approaching. Knife. Blood. I remembered that night; I remembered Ammi. She was there trying to ask for help, but no one came. I remembered her screams as the man tore her saree with a knife in his hand. I felt her screams echo through my body, and I felt the man touching her skin. I remembered the tears running down my cheeks as I shrieked. "The world is cruel," Ammi used to say, the same woman who was subjected to it in the most gruesome way. I looked in front of me, and I saw the man, with his head covered, reach me finally. He swung his knife at me, but it didn't cut through my skin. I felt the knife inside my flesh, but there was no blood. I held the blade, and it melted into water. I looked up, and the man was shorter now. I punched him, and I unleashed the rage upon him that I felt toward the man who killed my mother. My 'Ammi'.

The man fell on the floor and looked up at me. Suddenly, I felt powerful. 

I felt tall. 

I pulled the man and unravelled the cloth on his head to take a look at his face. It's Jamal! How is it possible? I thought about the cop and the bag of money in my hand. Wait, where is the bag? It was suddenly daytime, and I saw myself sitting in a room with money all around. I thought I was dreaming: no, I was dreaming. I knew of this. Everything moved according to me, all the chess pieces. The world danced around like my own puppet show. I was the master of everything, but where was I? I saw a woman in a veil entering through one of the three doors in the room. She held a silver plate as she walked toward me. There was something on the plate. It was a head. I looked at it closely. No, wait. It was the head of the man who killed Ammi. 

He was dead. 

Who killed him? 

I felt my eyes stare at the plate as the rageful satisfaction settled in my heart. His face looked sad. I hoped he died in the most gruesome and barbaric way possible. But who was this woman? 

She stood before me, holding out the plate. I peeked inside the veil, and I saw Ammi's face smiling. "I'm back, beta. Want to eat kheer today?" I saw her, it was Ammi. I pulled the veil and saw her staring at me, "Isn't this what you wanted?" I gasped. "A starry night," she giggled and dropped the head on the floor. This couldn't be Ammi, no! 

I screamed. 

I screamed harder. 

I felt my throat burst as I ejected everything I was filled with. Satisfaction, anger, astonishment, despair, nothingness. Did I really want this? No, this is a dream, just a lucid dream. It didn't go as planned, but it's okay. I needed to leave. I got up and ran towards the door from where Ammi entered. My life flashed before me, and I got blinded by the light that illuminated my path. I didn't want to be blind. I wanted to see. I don't need a starry night. I just needed myself. I needed to get out. I ran. I ran!

A blackness flashed before me, and I saw glimpses of soft light. I opened my eyes slowly. I felt my bare body rub against wool as I rested on the fabric. I finally woke up, yes! It was a dream. But what was it? I couldn't remember. I felt my head weigh more than my entire body. The quilt around me felt like a Universe in which I resided. I hibernated. Yonder was the light that entered a window, a window outside the Universe. I didn't want to reach out. I couldn't remember my dream, but I felt empty and scarred. I looked up at the ceiling as I sighed and took a deep breath. I needed to get up.

The real world looked like a painting to me. 

For some reason, I had a terrible headache. I saw the walls of my house having a dark grey colour, and I felt them close in on me. Ammi is there, standing inside the kitchen, making kheer. It felt like a nice day, something that I would want. No, this was my world. This was reality. A reality that was itself utopian, something I wouldn't like to change or alter. No, this was something that was mine and only mine. But why was I feeling all this? Why did I want to hold on to a good reality so desperately? I looked at the mirror, and I stared right through me. I felt the glass panes betray me; something was wrong. No, it's fine.

I just woke up from a long dream, a really long dream. I looked up. My Ammi was serving the kheer. She was smiling at me. I saw Jamal sitting on a chair, feasting on the kheer. It was warm. It was happy. There was nothing wrong. I heard a knock on the door, which reverberated through the house. Who was it? Ammi opened the door, and a man entered. It was the same man, no, I had seen him. Yes, he killed Ammi in my dream. I remembered everything. But what was he doing there? No! Do not ruin my reality. He pulled out a knife. No. He slapped Ammi and undressed her. No! I screamed. I screamed. 

Jamal was crying. 

I screamed.

I opened my eyes and found myself dozing off on a chair. Wait? Was I dreaming again? What was it? I couldn't remember. Where was I? I couldn't remember. I felt my head hurt as I got up and looked out the window. Stars spread across the sheet of sky. It looked beautiful. I looked at my hands; they were red. Oh, I had to wash them, I remembered. I walked towards the sink. I washed my hands as the sink filled itself with water diluted with red and soaked all of it. It's okay. It's clean. But why did I have blood on my hands? Wait. I had seen this place, this house. I looked behind, and there was a table. On the table, there was a plate that reeked of kheer. Something was wrong. No, wait. Why did I know this place? What was I washing off? I looked at the mirror in front of me, and I screamed. 

I was the man from my dreams.