The Distant Dream

The Distant Dream

Sleeping was always trouble for her. She could remember herself being partially asleep and being aware of her surroundings as well. That deep sleep or the state where you get dreams was something that evaded her, now that she has grown big and working too.

Every night, she reached home from work and a quiet house presented itself after the soft click of the door lock shutting behind her. With every step, her new flats crunched beneath her feet as she proceeded to keep the house keys on the top of the refrigerator.

With a tug, she opened the door of the refrigerator to search for something that she might have left in the fridge earlier, to eat. Sometimes her food cravings met the perfect answer, sometimes they did not. As a part of her daily night regime, she washed her face and filled her bottle of water for the night. Checking on the main door whether it was closed or not, she switched off all the lights barring the one near the main door, just above the potted palm and the Gautam Buddha statue perched on the table.

A few minutes later…

As she settled in her bed, each night she had laid there for hours before the silent sleep engulfed her. She thought about her life, her childhood, her work, workspace, office politics, the gossips and a lot more. The night kept her awake many a time but gazing at the stars and mulling on her steps in life stole most of her minutes before she sighed and yawned.

But the leaking tap in an adjacent flat was like an unwanted clock, ticking away. Gawd!!! She was still awake and it was like just a couple of hours away from the dawn. Gosh, she had to sleep. Forcing her eyes to shut she wished this would just go away someday. She craved the comfort of her home and the time when she could sleep without care. And mummy would wake her. She missed this one aspect of her home, more than anything else.


Over the years, her sleeps never rejuvenated her, instead they drained her. She woke up unsatisfied, feeling lost, disoriented and wanting to close her eyes and snuggle back into her bed.

But that meeting with Sahil was different. And now, as she tossed in her bed, disturbed from the strains of a distant Bollywood song and the accompanying disco lights.

And a lot just rushed into her conscious thoughts. They jostled for their space within her consciousness wanting to be the first one retrieved. As she blankly stared into the window and beyond, with those black and white enormous curtains billowing in the air, she smiled faintly as she recollected.

This was the song that his friends used to sing for her on his behalf as he kept staring at her, the girl, the love of his life, the one whose presence robbed him of his speech and stole his wit. All he could do was to stare into her eyes, those brown eyes; eyes that spoke out her love for him as well. But her lips remained obedient till the end, they never betrayed her.

She remembered the time when she and Sahil had met each other at a place, a few months earlier from now and decades later from then. She was yawning a lot and often kept her head on the table. He hesitantly started stroking her hair as he had always wanted to do. Soon she was asleep and was making those soft cat-like purring sounds. She looks defenceless and such a baby, unlike her usual self which was all fiery and temper.

She had always teased him, because of his loud snoring and here she was purring softly, head perched on the table. He was smiling to himself when she woke up a few minutes later, realizing that she had snored. But, she loved his touch, gentle and soft, as if she was some precious China doll who would break due to rough handling.

She looked at him sheepishly. He smiled. Never had he thought that she, the fireball that she was, could be such a baby? She abandoned everything to spend that time of hers with him and fell asleep too, literally in his arms.

His warm brown hands were large enough for her. They could engulf her face. The realisation came when he cupped her face to look at her more closely. Those eyes were just the same. How could he have missed the love? How could he not read the love that was so evidently written in her eyes?

And then they both hugged each other, grateful to the almighty and the fate too, to have found each other back again.


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Priyanka Kanjilal

Priyanka Kanjilal

A computer graduate who is now a full-time writer, Priyanka feels that stories are a medium to narrate and share the various experiences of life.

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