It’s been eleven months now. I think I’ve forgotten what rested sleep feels like. It was a luxury of life that I’ve lost the right to.
Maybe what triggered the dreams were the conversations. You came to her in her dream. You wanted something from her. It was something she thought as trivial. It wasn’t me. She talked about how she hopes to God that you never come back to me. I can’t begin to express how often I’ve prayed for what she fears for me.
Eleven months. Three hundred and thirty-three days. Not a single night went by when I didn’t pray for a miracle.
And then in her dream, something happened to you. She didn’t elaborate; I was too scared to ask. In all the time we were together since your accident, not a phone call was missed in fear that something might happen to you. I feared for your life, your safety. I feared losing you. From accidents to plane crashes. I was silently losing my mind. While you wondered whether I loved you. And then you sat me down, and you told me that you were safe; that nothing would happen to you and that you weren’t going anywhere. I believed you.
Either way, I pray. I pray for your health. I pray for your happiness. I pray for a miracle.
Why is it that love is shown to be so grand – an unbreakable bond that even when lovers are kept apart, they don’t lose the connection?
Can someone explain to me why that bond hasn’t broken for me? Why do I always know when I’m going to see you. Why is it that even though my mind has programmed itself to not picture you; your presence still haunts my subconscious?
I fell asleep last night after my usual prayer. I expected nothing. No images, no dreams. I was haunted by you. And when I woke up in a state of fear for you, your name resounded in my head.
It was windy in the morning when I woke up. You know how much I love the wind. I could hear it howl outside my window. And in the wind, I heard your name. I heard it over and over until I fell back asleep.
And then …came the dreams. Relentless.