In the dream, the dining room was bathed in pale morning light, but the warmth was missing. Bhairava sat at the table, Shivani beside him, her hands moving in gentle sign language, trying to speak to their parents. But Geetha, dressed sharply in her courtroom suit, was rushing to gather her files. Ashok, in his police uniform, was on the telephone, his voice clipped and focused—another case, another call.
No one was listening.
Bhairava's jaw tightened. He watched Shivani's hands slow, her expression dim. "At least try to listen to her," he said, voice rising.
Geetha didn't look up. "We don't have time to hear a useless story. Don't you see we're busy?"
Bhairava stood, anger flaring. "When are you not busy? You're always busy. You never have time for us."
Silence.
He slammed his fist on the table, the sound sharp and jarring. "I'm speaking to you!" he shouted.
Shivani jolted, her eyes wide with sudden fear. Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks.
Then—a hand on his shoulder.
He turned. Aarya stood behind him, calm but firm, her eyes guiding his toward Shivani.
Bhairava's anger melted into guilt. He knelt beside his sister, wrapped his arms around her, and whispered, "I'm sorry."
Aarya's hand rested gently on Bhairava's shoulder, grounding him as he held Shivani close. Her sobs softened under his touch, and as he patted her head, something shifted inside him.
He paused.
This was a dream.
But unlike before, he didn't want to wake up. He didn't want to escape. He wanted to stay—stay calm, stay present, stay with Shivani.
He whispered, voice steady and warm, "Even if our parents are against you… No… Even if this whole world is against you... Don't worry… I will always stand by your side."
He closed his eyes, exhaled slowly, and when he opened them, the world had changed.
The dining room dissolved into green—grass sprouting from the floorboards, vines curling along the walls, leaves unfurling from the shelves. The table turned to moss, the chairs to bark and branches. His parents faded, like mist in sunlight.
Nature bloomed around them.
Colourful flowers opened in bursts of pink, yellow, and violet. The sky above was clear, the sun gentle and golden. Butterflies danced through the air, weightless and free.
Bhairava knelt beside Shivani, placed his hands on her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. "Look around," he said softly.
She turned, eyes wide with wonder. A smile bloomed across her face, and then—she ran.
She ran through the grass, laughter spilling from her like music. She picked a flower, twirled with joy, and chased a butterfly with arms outstretched.
Bhairava watched her, heart full. The dream had changed.
Aarya's voice was soft, almost like the breeze itself. "Take good care of her," she said, her hand still resting gently on Bhairava's shoulder.
He turned slightly, nodded. "Thank you."
And just like that, she faded like mist dissolving into sunlight.
Bhairava stood slowly, his gaze fixed on Shivani, who was now laughing as she chased butterflies through the blooming meadow. Her joy was pure, unfiltered, and it filled the air like music.
He looked around, eyes wide with wonder. The transformation was surreal lush grass beneath his feet, vines curling around what used to be walls, flowers blooming in impossible colours. The sky was a soft blue, the sun warm but gentle, and the air carried the scent of wild blossoms.
He lifted his hand, extending his index finger.
A butterfly, delicate and radiant, fluttered near and landed lightly on his fingertip.
Bhairava stared at it, breath held, heart quiet.
In that moment, everything was still. No noise, no rush, no weight of the waking world. Just nature, Shivani's laughter, and the fragile wings of a butterfly resting in peace.
Bhairava gazed at the delicate fluttering wings of the butterfly perched on his finger, its colours shimmering in the soft sunlight. A quiet awe filled him.
He whispered to himself, "This is real. I'm really dreaming now."
The realization sparked something electric inside him excitement, freedom, wonder.
He broke into a run.
Through the tall grass, past blooming flowers, under the clear sky, he ran with laughter rising in his chest. The wind rushed past him, carrying the scent of wild blossoms and the sound of Shivani's joy in the distance.
He ran not to escape, but to feel to live inside the dream that finally felt like his own. Every step was light, every breath full, and the world around him responded with beauty.
The trees swayed gently, butterflies danced in the air, and the sun watched over him like a quiet guardian.
In that moment, Bhairava wasn't just dreaming. He was alive inside it.
Bhairava ran like the wind through meadows of light, past trees that shimmered like waves of green. He ran until the world blurred around him, until thought dissolved into motion. He had forgotten everything his worries, his doubts, even the fact that this was a dream.
And he had been waiting for it a long time.
Every person carries a dream inside them, fragile and burning. They chase it, struggle for it, and when they finally reach it, they often stand stunned and unable to believe it's real. Bhairava was no different. He had longed for this moment, and now that it was here, he could barely trust it.
He slowed, then stopped.
The grass beneath his feet swayed gently. He couldn't feel it, not truly—but his mind painted the sensation, soft and cool, like velvet under sunlight. He stood still, breathing in the illusion that felt more real than reality.
Then something shifted inside him.
He closed his eyes, calm now, and whispered to himself, "If it's really a dream… then let's see what I can do."
Bhairava stood still, eyes closed, breathing deeply. The dream pulsed around him, waiting. He concentrated—not on escaping, but on shaping. He reached inward, visualizing something deeper, something he longed for. Calm. Clarity. Freedom.
"Just visualize," he thought. "The universe will follow."
He exhaled slowly, opened his eyes—and gasped.
"No way…" he whispered.
The green meadow was gone. He was standing on a beach.
Golden sand stretched endlessly in every direction, untouched and pristine. The waves rolled in gently, the air smelled of salt and sunlight, and not a single soul was in sight. It was beautiful. Peaceful. His heart swelled with joy.
"I did it. I changed my dream. It's working."
Excitement surged through him, and suddenly, he rose.
The sand lifted with him, swirling around his feet like a living current. He floated upward, weightless, the wind brushing past his face. He looked down at the beach, then up at the sky, and laughed.
"Wow… I'm really controlling everything. I'm the king of this world."
He soared higher, then paused midair, suspended in silence.
Below him, the sea shimmered, a vast, clear expanse of blue stretching to the horizon. Behind him, nestled between hills and trees, was a peaceful city bathed in golden light. No noise, no chaos. Just serenity.
Bhairava drifted upward, higher and higher, until the sky wrapped around him like a soft blanket. The clouds brushed his fingertips, and the vastness above and below made him feel both tiny and infinite.
From this height, he looked down and saw nothing but cloud beneath his feet. It was as if he were standing on the sky itself. The sight was breathtaking an endless horizon of white, glowing softly in the morning light.
He paused, remembering his first lucid dream the one where he fell from a great height and woke up in fear. But this time, there was no fear.
He smiled.
"Let's try," he whispered, heart racing with excitement.
He leaned back, arms open, and let himself fall.
He fell—gracefully, fearlessly—passing through layers of soft, swirling cloud. The sunlight streamed through the gaps like golden threads, touching his skin like a quiet blessing.
He closed his eyes.
The wind rushed past him, cool and alive. The clouds curled around his body, wrapping him in a dreamlike embrace. He felt weightless, like he wasn't falling at all—but flying.
A smile stretched across his face.
He was no longer afraid. He felt like he had stepped into the heart of a dream that finally welcomed him.
Bhairava opened his eyes, and the dream greeted him with breathtaking beauty.
Birds soared nearby, their wings slicing through the crisp morning air. Below, a vast landscape unfolded majestic mountains rising in the distance, a shimmering lake nestled between them, and a lush green forest stretching endlessly across the valley.
The wind rushed past him, playful and wild, tugging at his hair as he floated above it all. His smile widened, eyes gleaming with wonder. The world beneath him wasn't just imagined it felt alive, vibrant, and free.
He leaned into the wind, letting it carry him forward. The birds flew beside him, and the forest below swayed in rhythm with the breeze. Every detail - the sparkle of the lake, the rustle of the trees, the golden light on the peaks felt like a gift.
The ground rushed toward him, and just before impact, he twisted mid-air, legs extended.
He landed.
In reality, such a fall would have shattered him. But this was a dream.
The moment his feet touched the ground, it transformed, soft and springy, like a giant cushion. He bounced once, then again, the entire landscape rippling with his motion. The ground itself seemed to celebrate his arrival.
Finally, he stood still, breath steady, heart racing. "Wow that's awesome"
The world shifted again.
The sand beneath Bhairava's feet melted into lush green grass, trees sprouting where waves once rolled. The sea receded, transforming into a vibrant meadow. Fishes leapt from the dissolving water, morphing mid-air into butterflies and tiny birds that fluttered around him in bursts of color and song.
He stood in awe, watching the transformation unfold. The dream was alive, responding to his thoughts, reshaping itself with every breath.
As he admired the birds, one figure caught his eye, a white raven perched on a tree branch, staring directly at him.
"A white raven?" he thought, surprised. "I've never seen one in real life."
Curious, Bhairava raised his hand, inviting it to come closer. The raven tilted its head, then took flight and landed gently on his outstretched arm.
Up close, it was striking, its feathers soft and pale, eyes intelligent and calm. "Very cute," Bhairava murmured, enchanted.
He lifted his other hand to touch it, but the raven suddenly fluttered away.
"Wait… where are you going?" he called out.
His gaze followed the bird as it soared across the dreamscape, flying far into the distance. There, beyond the trees and hills, stood a red gate—tall, mysterious, glowing faintly in the light. The raven landed atop it, still watching him.
"What is that?" Bhairava wondered aloud, drawn to it.
He took a step forward, ready to follow when a gentle tug pulled him back.
He turned.
It was Shivani, her hand in his, her eyes wide and warm.
He smiled, the mystery of the gate fading for a moment in the light of her presence.
He glanced back toward where the gate had been—but it was gone. Only a wide stretch of green meadow remained, quiet and empty.
Shivani tugged his hand again and signed, "What?"
Bhairava's smile deepened. "I'll show you a magic," he said softly.
He raised his hand.
In an instant, the grass around them shimmered and transformed—bursting into a sea of vibrant, colorful flowers. Petals of every hue danced in the breeze, and Shivani's eyes lit up, reflecting the kaleidoscope of joy around her. She gasped, overjoyed, spinning in place as the blossoms swayed.
Then Bhairava looked up and imagined the sky anew.
The daylight melted into twilight, and the heavens bloomed with stars. A gentle night spread above them, filled with constellations and a soft, glowing moon. The air turned cool and serene.
They sat together beneath the starlit sky, surrounded by flowers and silence, watching the stars drift slowly across the canvas of night.
Bhairava's heart was calm. The dream had become a sanctuary—a place of beauty, connection, and peace.
That night, he slept deeply.