The Dream That Stayed

By Raghav Badrinath

It was a simple car ride. The kind that usually passes unnoticed, a blur between destinations. I was seated in the backseat, leaning slightly against the window, watching the landscape slide by. The world outside was painted in shades of green, soft and endless, the trees bowing gently to the rhythm of the wind. Sunlight spilled through the leaves, scattering like liquid gold, and the hum of the engine blended with the distant call of birds. Everything felt still, suspended in a moment that asked for nothing and gave everything.

It could have been any day, any journey. But then, something inside me shifted. A quiet wave of calm rose within me, wrapping around my chest with an unfamiliar tenderness. The kind of calm that feels like home, that silences every restless thought. I lowered my gaze, and that was when I understood. The reason for my peace was lying on my lap, asleep. Their head rested lightly against me, their breath warm against my skin. Only then did I realise, it was a dream.

Every small detail of them was etched with such clarity that it felt real. The faint tremor of their lashes, the soft furrow that briefly appeared between their brows before it vanished again. Their nose, slightly scrunched in sleep, made them look like an innocent child who had drifted into the safest slumber. Their lips curved into a small, unguarded smile, one that spoke of trust. Looking at them, I felt something unnameable bloom in my chest. Their peace was my peace, their stillness became the center of my world.

The soft rumble of the car filled the air, a steady rhythm like a lullaby. Every now and then, their light snore broke through, barely audible, yet so melodic it felt like a secret meant only for me. That sound did something strange to me. It made me realise that their presence, their voice, even in its faintest form, could dissolve the chaos of the world. The noise, the haste, the noise within me, it all faded, replaced by a quiet that only they could bring.

Without meaning to, my hand moved to their head. My fingers slipped through their hair, and the simple act made their features ease. Their eyebrows relaxed, their lips parted slightly, a sigh escaping them. It wasn’t a touch charged with intensity or urgency. It was soft, unhurried, and pure. It felt like touching peace itself, like the first cool raindrop after months of dry heat. It carried no spark, only meaning, a quiet promise whispered in silence. My touch said what words never could: nothing in the world can part us. Nothing in the world.

I leaned closer, close enough to feel their breath ghost across my skin. It brushed my face like sea breeze on a summer afternoon, a breath that smelled faintly of warmth and sleep. In that instant, I breathed with them. My breath followed theirs, matched their rhythm. Their life pulsed through mine, and everything that existed outside that car seemed to vanish. Time did not move forward or backward. It simply existed, the way eternity must feel.

When I finally opened my eyes, the world of the dream slipped away. The car was gone, the hum of the tires, the weight on my lap, all dissolved like mist at dawn. But the feeling remained. That impossible calm, that warmth that lingered in my chest, the phantom touch of hair between my fingers. I realised that dreams are not meant to be forgotten. Some are meant to stay, to live quietly within us, like echoes of another world.

Even though they are not beside me, I know they live somewhere deep within me. In every quiet moment, in every breath that steadies me, in the soft calm that visits without reason, they are there. And perhaps that is the truest kind of presence. Not seen, not touched, but felt, deeply and endlessly.

By Raghav Badrinath