What Lurks in the Shadows of Dreams?

“Last night, I had a horrifying nightmare that felt incredibly real. As I woke up startled, my heart raced and sweat covered my body. Looking around, I found myself in my own home, but the dream had left me feeling trapped in the darkness. The walls seemed to close in on me, and I struggled to breathe. Trying to calm myself down, I reminded myself that it was just a dream. I closed my eyes, and after a few minutes, my breathing returned to normal.

I looked around and realized I had been sitting in the dark for quite some time. The only light came from the dim glow of the window ahead. Outside, the sky was dark, and rain poured relentlessly against the windowpane. The silence was heavy, and the rhythmic sound of raindrops added to my stress. Lost in this moment, I noticed the room was pitch black, making it hard to see any furniture scattered around me. I took a deep breath.

Feeling a dry sensation in my throat, I got out of bed and made my way to the kitchen. Each footstep echoed eerily in the silence as I reached out to touch the walls, guiding myself through the darkness. Upon reaching the kitchen, I flicked on the light switch, momentarily overwhelmed by the sudden brightness. Eventually, my vision adjusted, and I poured myself a glass of water from the tap. As I sipped the cool water, the dryness in my throat eased.The kitchen light made things clearer, but something strange happened. Just as I turned away from the tap, I found myself face to face with someone who looked exactly like me, except for red eyes and a pale face. A person appeared, like a dark version of me. She had a creepy smile. The whole room felt weird when she showed up. I got scared and moved back a bit; my heart was beating really fast.

She pointed a knife at me, and the shiny metal scared me even more. Her smile made it seem like she was waiting for this moment.

I asked, "Why are you here" but she didn't say anything. The smile got bigger, and it felt like she enjoyed seeing me scared.

I felt a mix of things—scared of not knowing what this dark version wanted, confused about why she was here, and a bit curious about what she might say. The knife, which used to be just a tool, now seemed like a real danger in her hands.

She jumped at me with the knife. Shocked and unsure of what to do, I stood in disbelief. The moment felt strange, like a dream mixed with reality. It was a scary moment, facing a dark version of myself with a message that went beyond what I could see.

Curiously, Dr. Netra inquired, "What happened next".

"She whispered, 'Angel took over Silence, Devil was born,' and then she vanished along with the knife," Indali replies, still shaken by the experience.

Indali, a woman in her late twenties, wore a faded and tired expression on her face. Her eyes, once vibrant and expressive, had become hollow and numb. Pale and weak, she seemed to have been battling an illness for a long time. Lost in thoughts about her dream, she sits on a large, comfortable sofa in Mr. Netra's private office. The cozy clinic is adorned with bright colors, exuding warmth and tranquility with a hint of lavender in the air.

Dr. Netra, a 34-year-old psychiatrist, observed Indali with sadness. Her almond-shaped brown eyes conveyed an intense gaze, her nose elegant, and her lips adorned with delicate shades of pink or red. With long, straight hair cascading gracefully around her shoulders, Dr. Netra exuded both elegance and warmth. Her friendly personality, infectious smile, and genuine kindness made her approachable and easy to connect with.

Realizing Indali's distressed state, Dr. Netra hesitated to deliver potentially difficult news. Leaving the room, she entered the waiting area, a small space with a handful of chairs and a few treatment rooms.

As she entered the waiting room, a subtle hush fell over the space. The air, once charged with a quiet tension, seemed to soften as her presence brought a calming influence. The vibrant colors on the walls, previously vibrant but overshadowed by an undertone of worry, now appeared more comforting.

The receptionist, who had been shuffling papers with a furrowed brow, looked up and offered a warm smile in response to Dr. Netra's entrance. The few individuals scattered across the room, their faces marked by varying degrees of concern, seemed to ease into a momentary sense of reassurance.

A soothing melody played softly in the background, creating a harmonious backdrop to the otherwise quiet room. The aroma of lavender, a subtle fragrance lingering in the air, enhanced the tranquility that accompanied her arrival.

The atmosphere, once laden with the weight of anticipation and uncertainty, underwent a subtle transformation. Dr. Netra's presence brought a gentle shift, fostering an environment where the waiting room occupants felt a fleeting but welcome respite from their concerns.

A woman approached Dr. Netra, introducing herself as Ms. Zansi, a police officer. Standing beside her was a 32-year-old man, Darpan Aggarwal, who seemed out of place dressed casually.

Ms. Zansi, with her no-nonsense demeanor, wore a crisp uniform that contrasted with the warmth of Dr. Netra's private office. Their interaction carried an unspoken acknowledgment of the gravity of the circumstances surrounding Indali and the unsettling dream she had shared.

A brief but silent exchange of glances spoke volumes—a nod from Dr. Netra acknowledging the urgency of the matter and a subtle straightening of her posture, ready to delve into the investigation.

The moment lingered for a heartbeat longer than expected, the air charged with the unspoken collaboration between a psychiatrist seeking the well-being of her patient and a determined officer seeking justice.

"How is she", Ms. Zansi inquired.

"Why is Indali here, mam", asks Darpan, his voice lace with confusion and curiosity as he looks at Netra.

Zansi, a stern-looking woman in a police uniform, introduces them, "Darpan, meet Netra. She is a well-known psychologist. And Netra, meet Darpan Ray". Netra's eyes widen in surprise as she recognizes the name. "Is he the son of Mr. Jatin Ray" Netra asks.

Darpan nods, still trying to process the situation.

"How do you know him", he asks, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"I am sorry about your loss," Netra says, her voice filled with empathy.

He takes a deep breath and replies, "I don't want your sympathy, I just want to know who murdered my dad. I want that person behind bars. I want to know why. To be honest, it's hard to believe that he is no more and after finding out that someone killed him, everything became a blur. It's like I have nothing left".

Netra's expression softens as she realizes the pain and confusion he must be going through. "

Please speak slowly, we are in a hospital," she reminds him gently.

Officer Zansi looks at Darpan and explains, "We think Indali knows something. She was the last person seen with your dad just at the time of the murder. So there is a suspicion that either she might known who is the killer or she is the killer".

Netra walked forward and said, "We are not sure. There is no strong evidence against her."

Darpan mind is reeling with this information. He knows Indali from childhood and he can't believe she could do something like this.

There is a moment of tense silence, but Darpan can't accept that Indali could be a murderer."It can't be her, I mean..." he trails off, unable to form coherent sentences.

"It can be true and it may not be.We need to consider all possibilities," Netra says, trying to calm him down.

Officer Zansi tries to console Darpan, but he starts sobbing uncontrollably, like a child.

"We need you to tell us about Indali. We want to know if she is the one who killed your dad. And if she did, we want to know why," Zansi says, her voice firm but compassionate.

"Ask her, ask her why she killed my dad. What did he ever do to her, Ask her, not me," Darpan voice rises as he speaks, his emotions getting the better of him.

"We have tried to talk to her, but she is affected by some mental illness", Netra tells him, trying to explain the situation.

"What kind of illness" Darpan asks, his voice trembling with anger and sadness.

"Even if I am willing to tell you, I can't. We can't trust anything she says as she is unable to distinguish between reality and her imagination", Netra replies, her voice heavy with sadness.

Darpan mind is in turmoil as he struggles to come to terms with the possibility that Indali may have killed his father. Questions and doubts swirl in his mind as he tries to make sense of it all.

Netra and Officer Zansi exchange a look, both knowing that this is a difficult situation for him. They can only hope that he will find the strength to face the truth, whatever it may be.

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