For the past three nights I have had nightmares. I don’t get much sleep since I must always remain alert for the various dangers lurking behind every crevice on this island. However when I do sleep, the nightmares always chill me to the deepest core of my body. The dreams always start out the same. In the dream I am on a plane. I am sitting next to a Muslim woman in her mid-twenties or so. She is covered beautifully in black with a small child sitting on her lap. The girl-child of hers has the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. As I look into the child’s eyes, I see a peace there that I have long searched for. Is it that this child knows no hardship that would break her heart, or that this child is not clouded by the negative influence that surrounds other humans? Such an influence brings the toughest of creatures to their knees. This child’s eyes intrigue me beyond reason, beyond explanation. I asked the little girl what her name was and she replied “Maha”. I in turn said “Salaam Maha. You have a very beautiful name, Masha’Allah. My name is Fatima”. The smile that Maha gave me seemed to melt away my problems. As my mesmerization with this child began to wear off, I felt the whole plane jerk. I kept repeating over and over that this was normal even though I knew that it wasn’t. I knew that the chances of surviving a plane crash were slim to none, but I couldn’t loose hope. I prayed that the plane would stay in the air. I prayed that the pilot would get us there safely. However, most of all, I prayed that the precious little child sitting next to me wouldn’t be hurt. All I could hear were screams of anguish and despair, worry and concern, hopelessness, and yet wails of hope. I have never been in such a situation as now. I didn’t know if I would live or die, but all I cared about suddenly was how I lived my life. I was thinking of all the bad things I have done rather than focus on the current catastrophe. The back of the plane was ripped off and I saw dozens of people fly from their seats. I was frozen to my seat, all I could do was look at Maha and in her eyes I saw fear. The fear in her eyes gripped me and terrified me. Just as the plane was to collide with the water, I awake. I never get past this part of the dream, but what I do recall in my dream, terrifies me. I am forced to wonder if this is how I got on this island or not. It would of course make sense, but I don’t have the evidence to prove it. As of right now, I am accepting that possibility as the solution to the question “How did I get here?” For now all I can do is try to survive on an island that I now call home.
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