Dream 1: Fantasy of Hope
After spending months in an uncanny silence, we were finally going to talk. I didn’t know how we were going to process months of trauma, coldness and insecurity. Or how we would build that sense of trust between us again. But I knew I would regret it if we didn’t try one last time.
“I love you.” He whispered with glistening eyes. I embraced him and held onto him like my life depended on it.
He was the first to pull away.
“I’ll be right back.” He said before turning his back on me. I saw him escape into a corridor I had never seen before. Strange. After spending years in this place, I thought I knew every passage, every corridor, every classroom and every route. But there are always things which you can miss.
I waited in the stairway, anxiously looking over my shoulder every fifteen seconds, trying not to worry about how long it had been.
***
Dream 2: Vision of Clarity
White clouds hung over the bright blue sky like a noose around its neck. Everything was visible that day. We were going for a bike ride along the mountains. But something was strange about this trip. He wasn’t driving the bike and neither was I. There was someone else maneuvering the vehicle. Someone who wouldn’t listen to me.
“There are so many things I would like to say to you, but I don’t know how.”
“But…” I didn’t know how to respond. I stood there and looked at him for a long time.
‘Just stay. Stay here with me and talk to me. We will work this through, I promise.’
“I trust you.” I didn’t.
We stopped for a while to rest. All the roads that could lead us somewhere were winding. I thought for a long time how, or if, we would continue.
It occurred to me that he hadn’t made a sound in a long time. I looked around to search for him. But he had become a ghost, visible only to the past.
“We need to keep moving.” The driver was looking at me.
***
Dream 3: Reflection of Reality
I was waiting downstairs by his apartment. I caught a glimpse of him through the gap between the doors. I couldn’t recognize him. He had become a distant figure, thousands of memories away from me.
“I already returned all of your stuff.” He yelled from behind the door.
“I know.”
***
I woke up with the remnants of my sanity disturbed by the suddenness of the silent morning. The uncanny silence that had been stretching for months up until the night of the dreams resumed, as the day began with a heavier quiet. The kind of quiet that had deafened the sounds my heart made every time my phone went off. The kind of quiet that had turned solitude into loneliness.
I picked out the sketch I had made of him and traced his face with my fingers.
“You need to move on. It has been six months.” My sister caught me reminiscing.
“I know, it’s just that I have been having these dreams about him for three days now.”
“Again?”
I nodded weakly.
“Isn’t there any way the two of you could maybe..”
“We haven’t talked in months, I am not even sure if he cares anymore. He has most likely forgotten and moved on.”
“How do you know that?”
‘Because believing that we were not right for each other and we would have hurt more if we tried is the easiest way to pretend to move on. It’s the only line of thought that offers to make up for what was supposed to be the rest of our lives. Because if it isn’t true and if he is still holding on, if his thoughts keep bringing him back to me and if it hurts him just as much as it hurts me, then he should have the courage to recognize that agony and reach out. Otherwise he’s the same person who went his separate way because he no longer knew how to bring his walls down and confide in me.”
***
After much insistence I went on a date with someone. I didn't expect to feel everything all at once. I was told to wait and give the other person a chance. So, I didn't expect to feel anything at all.
“This is really nice.” He brushed a strand of hair away from my face.
I looked into his eyes. They were a different shade of brown. I still smiled.
“You know, you look really beautiful in that dress.” He complimented me.
“Thank you.” I responded awkwardly.
We got back into his car; we were going to go check out a new bar that had opened nearby. His hand brushed against mine. Soon I clasped it. His skin was less sweaty and smoother than the touch I was familiar with.
“Put on some music, here.” He handed me his phone.
“Wonderwall by the Oasis?” I looked at him.
“You like this song too?” He didn't meet my eyes.
“Not really.” I said before playing.
-Anchita Dua
2nd Year
B.A. (Hons.) Political Science
[Edited by Ragini Kumari and Shreya Jathavedan
Art curated by Kirti Mondal]
"i trust you." i didn't.
this. felt that to my core.