family

You are a girl.

Born into a modest family in a small town that stood somewhere between being progressive and holding on to its roots. Education mattered there, and you were meant to have it. Not because anyone had great plans for you, but because that was simply how things were done now.

There was another child in the house. A boy.

From early on, things came easily to him. Everyone noticed. From the youngest cousin to the oldest grandparent, people spoke of him as the future of the family.

You struggled more with the things placed before you. New ideas did not always settle quickly in your mind. No one seemed particularly worried about that. It took time before you understood why.

They loved you. That much was never in doubt. But they did not imagine a future through you the way they did through your brother. No one pushed you the way they pushed him. No one asked if you were trying hard enough.

Eventually, that difference became clear.

It unsettled you more than you expected. Why would they not look at you the way they looked at him? Why would they not ask more of you?

You decided they would.

Understanding things still did not come easily. But the effort did. What you could not grasp immediately, you memorized. What refused to open itself to you, you forced open through repetition and stubbornness.

Slowly, the results began to change.

Your brother, meanwhile, was not always what the family imagined he would be. The certainty around him dimmed for a while. You never saw him differently. To you, he remained the same person he had always been. Someone you could talk to, someone who listened.

But you kept moving forward.

Eventually, you scored higher than he did. The house celebrated. They were happy for you. Yet something remained unchanged. That particular look people had when they spoke of the future still rested somewhere else.

Then new conversations began to appear.

Marriage. Good families. Good timing.

You wondered what more would be required before your ambitions were taken seriously.

Your brother found his way again. The old shine returned to the way the family looked at him. You were happy for him.

You were also aware of what that might mean.

But by then, something had shifted within you. Their expectations had become less important than your own. If they expected little, you would do more for yourself.

Obstacles continued to appear. You continued moving.

Not because someone asked you to. Not because anyone was waiting for the outcome. But because you had already decided what kind of life you wanted.

Simply to show that the future of a family does not belong to only one child.

You are a girl.

Dreams are my friend. They always have been. They have been an escape from the pain of reality. I have lived a thousand lives there, and absolutely none in the real world. I look forward to the darkness of the night; the days are hell for me. Sleep wasn’t rest. It was continuity.

Today was one such day. I kept remembering her. I could almost hear her voice. It has been more than fifteen years since I was the most important thing in her life. As for me, she is still the most important thing. It has been eons for her, but not another second for me. She had lived a life. I had been waiting inside the memory of one.

The thoughts kept me company as I waited for the darkness to arrive, waiting for it to engulf me. Time went on, and I lay still on my bed, eyes glued to the ceiling, looking at nothing.

I looked at my phone, stalking her Instagram profile again. This had become another routine of mine before going to the abyss. I saw a notification.

“This is something I have not seen in a long time,” I wondered.

It was a text from Nandini. I could not believe my eyes. This could not be real.

“Hi Tejas,” it read.

I looked at the screen for what felt like an eternity.

“Hi. How are you? Do you still remember me?”

“Of course. I will never forget you.”

“Are you okay, Nandu? This is very unusual for you.”

“Tejas! I want you to meet me. I have something to tell you.”

I swallowed my own saliva as I read it.

“WHY ARE YOU STILL AT YOUR PHONE AT THIS POINT IN TIME?” my mother’s voice roared from behind.

“I am not fifteen anymore, ma,” I shouted back.

“Go back to sleep. It’s not good for your health. You don’t take care of yourself already.”

I ignored her and kept staring at the screen. I had forgotten to reply in this moment of harakiri.

“Where do you want to meet?” I typed.

There were no more texts.

I cursed my mother in anger and went to my room. My father was already sleeping there.

“Why does he have to hijack my room now?” I groaned.

I went to the second room. Mother was lying there. Feeling tired, I lay beside her, but this time my friend evaded me. I kept looking at the ceiling again.

Something felt wrong.

“I was already in this room before. How did I go to the drawing room? And why didn’t my parents talk about my messy apartment?”

The bulb switched on in my brain.

This was a dream.

My parents don’t live with me. I never got a text. Life is still the same. My friend tricked me today.

“Mom! I know it’s a dream.”

There was panic in her eyes.

“What are you saying? You are tired. Let me take care of you.”

She placed her hands on my head. Frustration crept in. I tried to slap her hands away.

I couldn’t move.

I was frozen.

“Not the fucking sleep paralysis again,” I cursed in my head.

The struggle continued. I just had to move my body a little, and this would be over. The weird thing was, I could still speak.

“Just go away, Mom. Let me lie here in peace.”

“Shut the fuck up and sleep,” she cursed.

My parents have never used any curse words in their lives.

This was the threshold.

I forced myself with all my strength one last time and slapped her hand away. She cried.

I woke up.

There was a messy pile of clothes where my mother had been sleeping. I sighed. I stepped outside. I went to the other room. My father was not there, of course.

Crestfallen, I checked my phone.

“Meet me at the park near our school.”

I jumped in elation.

Nandini had replied.

That was not a dream.

But this couldn’t be real. It just could not be.

Fifteen years. I had waited hopelessly, and one day, out of the blue, this happened.

“Meow.”

A cat sat on the balcony.

I stared at it. How did it come here?

This was too much to process. I needed air. I unlocked the door. A kid stood there, frozen. He saw me and ran away. I followed him. He went into his apartment. Shocked, I went in after him.

“Please go back. My boy is getting scared,” the lady said.

“What happened? Why is he scared of me?”

“You have been shouting for the past hour. He woke up because of it and couldn’t go back to sleep.”

This was unusual. I don’t usually speak in my dreams.

“I can explain,” I said. “I was dreaming. I had sleep paralysis. I might have been speaking. There’s no need to worry.”

She looked at me carefully.

“You look troubled, son. It is tough living alone. Please feel free to come to my house if you are facing any difficulties.”

We talked for some time. She told me about her family. I thanked her and walked back. The kid stared at me, curious now. We spoke about exchanging numbers. I had forgotten my phone.

I went back to get it.

I rechecked the messages.

There was no text from Nandini.

I refreshed. Again and again.

The last text was one I had sent years ago. Unanswered.

This was still a dream.

My friend had been mocking me.

I was back on my bed, unable to move. I shouted.

“WHY? WHY ME? CAN’T I HAVE SOME PEACE HERE?”

I forced myself to wake up.

I succeeded.

I was drenched in sweat. I stumbled to the mirror. The right half of my face was white. Skin peeled off as I forced myself out of the glue. I collapsed onto the floor.

My phone rang.

“Hey! It’s Asha, your neighbour. You didn’t call back.”

What?

I hadn’t given her my number.

I looked at the bed.

There I was. Lying. Still.

Probably fighting with myself to wake up.

I moved my finger.

My eyes opened.

The room was silent. Clothes lay scattered. No cat. No voices. I stepped into the hallway. Her apartment door was shut. No sound.

I had finally woken up. Sleep, it seemed, had thinner walls than I thought.

It had been the weirdest dream I had ever had. The meta layers within dreams had shaken me. Maybe dreams were not the best of friends. They offer escape, but they can torment exceedingly well. They know the deepest and darkest of our secrets.

In the morning, I left my home.

As I entered the lift, she was there.

“Asha,” she said. “I know we haven’t spoken before. But I had the weirdest dream last night. You were shouting. My kid got scared. You came to my place, and we talked. Is everything okay?”

I stared at her.

“It’s just dreams,” I said finally. “We can’t explain them.”

She smiled. The lift doors opened. We went our ways.

How did this happen? Did I influence her dreams? Was this a coincidence?

I checked my phone.

No text from Nandini.

But I wasn’t worried about that anymore. For the first time, waking felt optional.

If someone in the universe had been observing me, they would have seen me smile for the first time in fifteen years.

Unveiled Emotions

You Are A Girl.

Borrowed Sleep: A Dream Catcher Story