I Believe In You

There is a story, a story I must tell, of love that is eternal, of love that has no boundaries, and it begins in the silent night, where days surrender to the darkness of the night, and wondrous things do happen. It’s a pretty bleak read that takes the plot of love, desire and intertwines it with eternity.

Every night she gets lost in the twist and turns of the hallway inside her mind. In the darkness, she is looking for him. She stands before him, yet he is always out of her grasp; his existence is more like a memory dancing at the corner of her mind’s eye.

As they are in the dream world, they twirl together under the light of the moon in a dance that seems to have been arranged by fate. She tries to touch him, to make him embrace her, but he is as far as she can almost touch a ghostly form in the night.

They love in hushed tones, for the language that unites their hearts is that of gestures and the pounding of his chest. He is the soul she desires to be with, no matter how long it takes, he will stay.

Yet even in this place of rest there is a haunting, a residue left over from the night, like a bad memory washing over you. She knows nothing about him other than the fact that he is the man of her dreams – and possibly, her nightmare – and may be holding the key to a mystery that has perhaps been following her, her whole life.

With every night that passes, their meetings come more and more often, the couple’s affection for each other suddenly was intensifying. All she wants is to be able to touch him, to feel his skin on her own, but he will always be just out of her reach, a symbol of the unattainable.

And yet, the yearning, the craving to know him, to touch him, and hold him, cuts through her like a knife. This is true, because despite the constant inner pain that tears at her sanity when she can’t be with him, she finds contentment in the fact that their love is eternal, and shines in some distant galaxy.

Dreams are as fragile as the UK fog, and every morning she wakes up in the harsh light of the day, sorrowfully clutching the emptiness in her chest, she then looks for him, but he is nowhere to be seen; as elusive in the waking world as he was in her dream.

And so, she goes to the other world every night to be with the person she loves, thinking that it is a small moment of happiness in the middle of the nothingness. For, in the depth of the night, when dreams are made, and there is no sky that can keep love apart, their spirits are joining in a dance, a dance that cannot be seen with the earthbound eyes.

One night, she was dreaming of him. And for a change, as she looked down into the depths below, his voice whispered to her.

“Your time is coming. Prepare yourself.”

Waking up confused, she tried to shake off the dream, dismissing it as mere figments of her imagination trying to change the narrative of love that her dreams always had about him. But as the days passed, the sentiment grew more vivid, more insistent.

Exactly one week after having the heartrending dream, she fell ill. At exactly 5:00 am, an ambulance was called.

Agonizing. Feels like drowning in a sea of calmness, no fire, and no molten lava. Every movement comes like a battle, and every heartbeat jumps like a reminder of the relentless pain that courses through your veins. Each thought of him flew ticking by like hours. But amidst the chest pain, there was also a strange kind of clarity — a clarity born from the crucible of attachment.

With the passing weeks, she improved little by little, but her connection to him grew desperate. He had warned her a week before that this traumatic event would happen. And so, grateful, she felt closer to him. The body detonated tiny bombs of contempt against death, and so everything remained a memory of how all the worlds that we do not see, are connected. Appreciation, respect, integrity, and devotion, shine above any human science that we can investigate. The presence of your one special person, lives on, even years after the very last note had been played.

♡ Thank You For Reading ♡