. 18.12.13 an eye for an eye .

  I was a 15-year-old homeless kid, living on the streets with an older woman I called 'mom' and an older girl named Sarah, whom I treated and loved like a sister. We were hobos basically, living on the streets, relying only on ourselves and our wits to survive. Though I was the kid, I was the caretaker of the group. For some reason I was skilled in fighting, and I protected my family.

  One day, we return to an old neighborhood of mine. I had history in this particular neighborhood, and before I could avoid it, it had already caught up to me. Suddenly the three of us were shuffled into this big mansion by a group of gangsters, all dressed in black leather. Inside, I recognized the owner of the house. He was a man, who looked near his mid-thirties, and was dressed in all white. Besides his oldest son, who was 14-years-old and with the gangsters who herded us before, he also had a number of adopted children. Some were toddlers and the rest were no older than 7.

  His cronies brought us to him as he played with the children in the den. He brings up the past, subtly telling me that now he had captured me, he was going to get his revenge. He had been waiting for a long time now, but he was patient and it showed in his calm demeanor. Flashbacks erupted in my head, and I saw a small boy with black, wavy hair and a wide smile. And I felt so sad, my heart wanted to break because I knew that the child was long dead.

  "I'm so sorry.. I didn't mean to... It was an accident! He was the only friend I ever had then, I would never hurt him.." I was on the verge of tears.

  Apparently his youngest son, Sam, and I were close friends when we were younger. But he died in a terrible accident an d his father blamed me for his death. His older son never knew about him, probably due to memory suppression, and was lost during our conversation. But after hearing my pleas, he wondered if I really was innocent or not. The doubt showed on his face, especially when his father seemed adamant in getting his revenge on me.

  The man in white opened up a door to a very derelict room and told me to go in. It looked like an abandoned child's playroom; ropes and hooks hung from the ceiling, toys in clutters and disguised as torture devices. I went in and he locked me in total darkness. I hid myself in murky bedsheets and covers under the dusty bed, lying in wait and letting my eyes adjust to the dark. I anticipated thugs to come in after me to finish the job, but for some reason the man in white left me alone. Somehow he thought that I had suffocated from something inside the room, and that I'd passed out or died.

  Either way, the door of the room was now unguarded and so I escaped. I went upstairs to find my 'family' and found that they were taken hostage in the dining area. Mom and Sarah sat terrified beside each other at the long, dining table, while the gangsters stood at all sides of the room. All the gangsters were armed. Some were seated at the table, some just stood around joking. The son was there too, and only now I realized how much he resembled Sam. I really didn't want to hurt him unless I really needed to. I didn't mind killing the gangsters though.

  I stealthily searched the other rooms for weapons. I went into the master's bedroom and found a wall full of firearms. I was awestruck and excited to use them. I took a small automatic machine gun and two automatic pistols, and I was so ready to fuck shit up.

Unfortunately before I reached the dining room, I woke up. But I supposed I saved my 'family' in the end, though not as smoothly as I would've hoped. I would've killed most of the gangsters by the time my ammo ran out. I would get caught by the man in white again, but this time he threatened to kill my 'family'. I'd give myself up for their lives because they had absolutely nothing to with Sam's death. "Killing me won't bring Sam back! As much as I wish it would, I know it won't happen too!" I could imagine myself saying.

Maybe the second son would believe me and understand that it wasn't my fault. He would stand up to his father and admit that he had taken things too far for too long. He saves my life and lets me and my 'family' go. And if he wanted to join our 'family', we would be more than happy to welcome him.

. 17.07.13 the Journalist .

  My friend was an investigative journalist, who had been working on his latest scoop for the longest time. He knew that some people were after him. He was the target of a lot of powerful and dangerous people, as he wrote amazing pieces on human rights and the freedom of people from the oppressing governments around the world. Sadly he was assasinated/murdered while working on his latest job. I had some of his worknotes and discovered that he mentioned the people he suspected were onto him; two aliases by the names of Rapier and Hyena. But what my Dream is mainly about is what happened after his death.

  Before his death, he recorded a series of videos of his family, his closest friends, all his loved ones, which he made into a documentary. The documentary was aired after his imminent death and we all watched it. When it showed on TV, I was watching it with my dad. It looked as if he was filming his own birthday party, with his voice spoke in the background, "This is my beautiful mother - This is my baba (father) - And this is my good friend, Yaqeen. He always wants to be the first to welcome me and hold my hand during celebrations," to which the friend in the screen laughed. Everyone looked so happy, for he was considered a hero in his country. No one looked like they knew they were celebrating the last birthday of his life.

  My friend always wrote poems, mostly about his life, his family, and his home, Kashmir. In my Dream, his compilation of poetry was voted number#1 in the newspapers list of top most read literature, after the premier of his documentary. His documentary, upon its release, became number 9 in the list of most watched documented media of the week and won an international award. My greatest surprise was the mail I recieved after I finished watched TV. I couldn't watch the film till the end, it was too sad. My heart ached every time I recalled the smiling faces of his parents.

  Looking through today's mail, I noticed an important-looking envelope addressed to me. I opened it up and found that it was some kind of will. In the will, my friend had entrusted to me a certain amount of money. Accompanying the will was a letter personally written by him, thanking us and hoping that the money could help us with whatever problems we had with our families. He asked us to take care of our families while we still had the chance. He had given most of his savings to his family and distributed it among his closest friends. He also donated to different charities and organizations. I cried, still holding onto the envelope, pressing it close to my chest. My heart cried, sincerely missing such a good person and friend, who died doing what he loved and protecting those he loved.


Sorry if this Dream was short and perhaps not as whimsical as some of the others, but this was a really sad Dream for me to remember and write down because knowing this friend in real life, it sounded like it was something he would really do. May God protect him and bless him for what he's done, and for being such a good friend and man to begin with.