The Real Dream


                 Truth Or Imagination? I Will Never Know



It was getting late enough to be worried. I once again stepped into the balcony and looked down. Except for a drenched street dog that was lying down miserably near the gate, there was not a soul to be seen anywhere. Rain water had puddled under the lamp post. A breeze ruffled the mango tree in the courtyard and a few twigs fell down and broke. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Did I hear a soft knock at the door? Iran down. It must be him. I hurriedly went to open the door. Right then the lights decided to go out. It was pitch black. I lit the lantern and the entire cottage was drenched in the soft romantic light. I opened the door. There was no one outside. I peered a little more. The street dog was still there.

Must have been the winds. As I was about to close the door, wind gushed inside the cottage and I sniffed a smell. His perfume. But where was he? It was really late. He should be home hours before. I closed the door and turned to go back inside. After a few steps I heard another knock, a more persistent one. My heart jumped. It’s him. I ran to the door and opened it with a grin. But my smile faded as I saw the sheet of darkness spread before me. There was still no sign of him.


“Waiting for someone?”

I almost jumped out of my skin, my heart thudded so loudly inside my chest that I bet anyone in my proximity could hear it. I turned around and saw him. He was there, inside, freshly showered. He looked at my face and laughed aloud.

“Want some coffee?” He asked as if nothing had happened.

“How did you get inside?” I asked perplexed.

“What kind of question is that? I came in when you opened the door for me. I went in and bathed and you were still standing there at the door looking lost.”

“But I didn’t see you coming in the first time and neither on the second time.”

He brought two cups of hot steaming coffee to the table. He knows very well that I love coffee in this kind of weather.

“Baby You work yourself up too much.” He lovingly caressed my cheek. His hand felt cold. I shivered. The whole things was still creepy. We ate our dinner and he did most of the talking. And then we went to bed. He read his novel for sometime as usual and then slept off snoring softly. But sleep eluded me. Something was still nagging at the back of mind. Suddenly a thought struck me. I have heard and read many stories of the souls of loved ones coming back to say the final goodbye. I was scared.

Was he lying dead somewhere or deeply hurt about to die? Is this his soul? Has he come to say his goodbyes to me? I had no idea if the souls could make coffee or eat dinner. But I knew you can’t touch them. I looked at him. He was sleeping contently. I slipped towards him, put my hands around him and put my head on his shoulder. I could feel him alright, he was alive and he felt good. I smiled as peace and sleep took me in their arms.

I had no idea when the morning came. A stream of light from the window disturbed my sleep. I slowly opened my eyes, only to realise I was sleeping in the same position, only he was not there. I was alone in my queen size bed. I jumped. Was I dreaming last night? Wasn’t he here last night? I washed and combed and went downstairs. The smell of freshly brewing coffee hit my nostrils along with the aroma of immensely mouthwatering breakfast. He was there in the kitchen humming to a song on the radio. It was a sight to behold. Although this was an almost everyday sight, but today it looked different. May be because of the mental state I was in. He gave me a brilliant smile and signed me to sit down. In few minutes he brought me the lavish breakfast and two cups of coffee. We ate in a companionable silence, throwing smiles at each other every now and then.

My head thudded loudly. No, wait! It’s not my head. Although it feels heavy but isn’t pounding. It takes me a few minutes to realise it is the door. I slowly pull my head up from the table. My body felt stiff.

I slept on the table? The clock says it’s 6 in the morning. I was confused. I was having a lavish breakfast at 8 in the morning. How can it still be 6. I looked at the table. There was no trace of any breakfast ever. The kitchen looked untouched as well. Everything was as I remembered on the night of the storm. Was I dreaming? Someone pounded on the door with even more fierceness.

“Is someone there? Please open the door.”

I dragged myself to the door. My head still felt heavy like hell. I stood agape as the scene started to unfold before in front of my eyes. The police stood with their caps in their hands and on the ground, wrapped in the white sheet was him. My breath hitched in my throat, my heart stopped beating. Was I dreaming then or am I dreaming now? My head spinned.

But...but he was here this morning. This can’t be him. He can’t be dead. And I kept blabbering until I fainted. I woke up in a dimly lit room. It looked familiar. My head felt light. The place looked familiar. Our bedroom. Then it all started coming back to me. The police, him wrapped in white sheet. Tears started to flow shamelessly and I started to choke. Suddenly he was there beside me, offering water. I looked at him stunned. Relief flooded me and I hugged him tight.

“You are alive! You are alive! I cried.

He laughed “Of Course I am alive. What came over you suddenly?”

I looked at him stunned. I told him everything. He looked worried.

“You were drinking coffee one moment and then you looked lost, like you were dreaming. Suddenly you gave a loud cry and fainted on the table.”

I looked confused, couldn’t understand a thing. I got up from the bed slowly. I felt giddy and swayed a little. He held me tightly. I slowly went out of the room and down the stairs. On the table were still the unfinished breakfast and half drunk coffee. My head whirled. I looked at him, He gave me a sheepish grin.

“Am sorry, with you crying and fainting, I had no time to clear it.”

He pulled a chair, made me sit, handed me a glass of chilled water and began cleaning. I slowly sipped the chilled water, relishing its cold feel against my dry throat. I was lost somewhere far away. I had no idea how long I sat there. He brought me back with a soft kiss on my forehead. He was dressed.

“I have to go to office for sometime. Will you be fine? I will be back soon.”

I just nod my head, he touched my cheek lovingly and then drove off in his car. I just couldn’t take the stress anymore. I went to take a long cold shower. I sat there for I don’t know how long. Once I started feeling a little relaxed, I dried myself and went out. I took my tab and started to ask Google for the answers of my confusion.

Google said I could be Psychotic or Schizophrenic to be precise. They imagine things around them that are not really happening. For them everything they imagine is real. They cannot differentiate between the real and imaginary. Sounds familiar, like me. I don’t know what’s real and what’s imaginary. Have I turned Schizophrenic?

I called my best friend. I cried my heart out and told her everything that have been happening recently. She heard everything patiently, tried to calm me down and promised to be with me as soon as she can. When she came, she found the house as dark as a secret and as quiet as death. She called my names a few times and it was a few minutes before she could find the light in my room. I was sitting in a corner of the bed with the laptop open, tears flowing down my eyes. She came to me and hugged me tight. She tried to console me but I wasn’t listening. My mind was too far away to make anything of what she was saying.

It was sometime before he walked in and found my best friend talking while I just listened. He looked at both of us in confusion.

“What Happened?”

She just turned around the laptop towards him. One look at it and he understood everything. They both sat together, trying to make me understand that it’s just stress. A few incidences doesn’t make you Schizophrenic. It took them hours of relentless counselling but in the end I calmed down a little. But the feeling never left me. Sometimes when you think that you have a certain disease, you relate everything to it. I have no idea it was that or I was really turning into a schizophrenic but whenever I went out, I felt someone watching me. I even saw someone following me a few times. But they often turned out to be a harmless hawker or just a face in the crowd when I tried to figure them out. With each passing day I was going crazier than the day before and even more convinced that I was suffering from a devastating mental illness. I talked him to take me to a psychiatrist just for my satisfaction. With the day in and day out request, he agreed.

The sessions were harder than I thought. Going through them was one thing but reliving it was another level of pain. But with every sitting it became easier. Everyday I told the doctor about the unusual incidents that I experienced. After a few sittings, the doctor suggested for me to stay at the hospitals so that I could be under constant observation. But he declined rightout. After constant persuasion he reluctantly agreed. We were given a few days before I was supposed to be admitted in the hospital. My best friend and my husband they both were by my side continuously. They loved me, counselled me and reassured me. Then the day came, the day when my whole world was going to change, the day I was to be admitted in the hospital.

I felt scared, he was reluctant to leave my side. I was given the hospital dress to change into. I felt tremors inside me. This was going to be entirely new, completely different life from the one that I have always lived. While I was settling into my room, he was filling up the formalities. A few minutes later, he along with my best friend walked into my room. They both looked nervous. It was hard for them as well. They both have always loved me with all their hearts.

“It’s going to be fine.” I tried to assure them. They both just nodded their head.

“ I will be fine soon and will be out of here in no time. Don’t worry.”

“That’s not going to happen anytime soon honey.” He said. I looked at him in confusion while a smile played on his lips. I was bewildered when they kissed, my husband and my best friend.

“It has taken a lot to put to where you are now.” She said with a cruel smile.

Suddenly I understood. I cried like a banshee. Suddenly, the doctors, the nurses they all came rushing into my room. I tried to tell them I was framed, that my best friend and my husband have cheated me and that I wasn’t ill. But before I could I felt something pricking my arm and slowly my eyelids started becoming heavy. I was slipping into the blissful oblivion wishing it all to be a dream, hoping that when I wake up, I wake up in my bed, beside him. After all I was a schizophrenic, so this could be my imagination, right?


 
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