Dream? Nightmare?

Avantika Rawal

I woke up suddenly, my head jerking forward so hard it sent a sharp strain through the back of my neck. My fingers were clutching the bedsheet tightly, so tight that my knuckles hurt, the fabric twisted under my grip like I was holding onto something for dear life.

For a few seconds, I just stayed like that, staring straight ahead, not fully understanding what was happening. My chest was rising too fast, like I had been running, like I couldn’t catch my breath no matter how hard I tried.

“Okay… okay, calm down,” I muttered under my breath, but it didn’t help. My hands were still trembling, and my breathing refused to slow down.

There was sweat on my forehead, which made no sense because the room was cold. The AC was on, the air just right, the kind I had always found comfortable. But right now, I didn’t feel it at all. I felt hot, uneasy, like something inside me was completely out of place. My throat felt dry when I swallowed, and there was this strange ache in my chest that I couldn’t explain.

I pushed myself back, resting against the headboard, trying to ground myself.

My eyes moved around the room.

It was familiar. Of course it was. This was my room. The same room I had grown up in, the same walls, the same furniture, everything exactly where it should be. And yet, it didn’t feel right. There was something off about it, something that made the silence feel heavier than it should have been.

It was too quiet.

The kind of quiet that makes you aware of every little sound, especially your own breathing, uneven and loud in your ears.

It was a dream.

No, a nightmare.

And then it hit me.

My parents.

Their faces flashed in my mind so suddenly that it made my chest tighten.

The blood. The way they looked. The way they had still held onto me, even when everything was falling apart around them.

“Fuck… fuck,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

I didn’t think after that. I just moved.

I threw the blanket aside and got out of bed quickly, my legs feeling weak, almost unsteady beneath me, but it didn’t matter. The only thing in my head right now was them. I needed to see them. I needed to know they were okay. That it wasn’t real.

That it was just a nightmare and nothing more.

They’re fine. They have to be fine.

I rushed toward their room, my steps uneven, almost stumbling, my heartbeat loud in my ears. When I reached the door, I didn’t stop to think. I knocked. Again and again, too fast, too hard, like if I didn’t, something terrible would happen.

“Open the door… please…” I whispered under my breath, not even realizing I was saying it.

The door opened.

My father stood there, his expression tired, a bit irritated at first, like I had woken him up for no reason.

But the moment his eyes landed on me, it changed. The irritation disappeared, replaced instantly by concern.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” he asked, his voice softer now as he cupped my face gently.

And that was it.

The moment I saw him, really saw him standing there, alive, okay, I broke.

A sob left my lips before I could stop it. It wasn’t loud, not dramatic, just quiet and shaky, like something inside me had finally loosened. Relief hit me so hard it almost hurt.

He’s here.

He’s fine.

My father pulled me into a hug immediately, his hand coming up to rest on my head, patting it softly like he always did.

“Shh… it’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Everything’s okay. I’m still here.”

His words should have been enough.

And for a moment, they were.

My sobbing slowly quieted, my breathing starting to steady as I held onto him.

But then another thought pushed its way in, just as strong, just as urgent.

“Mumma?” I asked suddenly, pulling back slightly to look at him.

“Of course she’s inside,” he said, a little confused. “We’re still standing at the door.”

I didn’t wait after that.

I moved past him quickly and walked into their room, my father following behind me, his presence close, watchful. My eyes went straight to the bed.

She was there.

My mother lay peacefully, her hair spread messily across the pillow, her face calm, undisturbed.

She looked the same as always,beautiful, gentle, safe.

Safe.

Something in my chest loosened at the sight.

Without thinking, I walked closer and sat beside her on the bed, my eyes still a little blurry from the tears. I just looked at her for a second, like I needed to take it in properly.

She’s here.

She’s okay.

But even then, a part of me still wasn’t fully convinced.

What if this is still a dream?

So I reached out slowly and poked her arm, careful at first, like I was afraid she’d disappear if I touched her too hard.

She swatted my hand away almost immediately, clearly annoyed.

And somehow,that was what made it real.

A small breath left me, almost like a laugh, but softer. Relief settled in properly this time.

She’s really here.

Behind me, I felt my father’s hand rest gently on my head again.

“Beta?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

I didn’t answer right away.

I just sat there, between them, trying to hold onto this moment, trying to convince myself that everything was fine, that everything was still the way it should be.