Bad Dreams

Fire pic for Bad Dreams chapt ex Hafsa Waseela

Goodnight Mama!” I sang.

Goodnight Wardah. Please don’t forget to read Ayat-ul Kursi before going to sleep,” Mum replied while still walking. She sounded uptight, like she was on alert.

Okay Mum,” I said. But she had walked past. I called after her. “Jazakallah khair for reminding me!”

I’d had a tiring day at school. I prayed my Salah and went to bed early. Closing my eyes, I fell instantly into a deep sleep.

Strangely, I found myself waking up to the scent of barbecued meat. I looked outside my window and saw the sky filled with grey and black smoke. Below, blazing fire was everywhere. Buildings collapsing. Women screaming. Children crying. Families running barefoot. A flood of blood. A stench. I withdrew.

Where am I? Am I dreaming or in reality? What is going on? Questions swam in my mind like fish in the sea.

From behind, I felt a pair of hands rest on my shoulders. Hot. Large. My heart beat fast. I squeezed my eyes tight and, aloud, repeated my shahadah.

Laa illaha il Allah, Muhammadur rasool Allah.

A saddened voice that I recognised whispered, “Don’t worry Wardah, it’s only me. Baba.”

My heart sank. I felt as though a gust of wind blew me away, somehow giving my myocardium an energy supply to function my heart.

I turned round, slowly so his hands could remain, and I gazed into his eyes. They were red like cherries – a connotation of anger, pain, and sadness. Tears rolled down his cheeks and into his beard at the slow speed of a millipede running from poison. His lysosymes were working hard. His nose was running. He weighed heavier on my shoulders.

My trembling fingers reached for my hijab and wiped his tears and nose. His face was so hot that a pancake would have been cooked already.

He gave me a weak smile. He said, “Jazakallah khair, my dearest daughter. I thought I would have lost you. We have been bombed yet again.” He then gave me a tight, warm hug – so hard that I nearly choked. I squeezed my eyes shut again and forgot where I was.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” I screamed. Drops of sweat fell down my face and neck.

What’s wrong, Wardah?” Mum ran rushing into my room, her eyes wide open.

It was a dream.

To be continued….

Narrated Ibn ‘Umar: Allah’s Apostle said, “While I was sleeping, I saw that a cup full of milk was brought to me and I drank my fill til I noticed (the milk) its wetness coming out of my nails. Then I gave the remaining milk to ‘Umar Ibn Al-Khattab.” The companions of the Prophet asked, “What have you interpreted (about this dream)? O Allah’s Apostle?” He replied, “(It is religious) knowledge.”

Bukhari Book 3, Hadith 82

The above excerpt is from the ‘Bad Dreams’ chapter in Hafsa Waseela‘s debut novel A Reflection of The Past, out Autumn 2015 insha’Allah.

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