Darkness. Black and constant darkness. That is all I see as I plunge down a dark hole. The cold, ruthless wind filled with despair blows against my face from a source somewhere amidst the darkness. I try to comfort myself with something happy, maybe a memory, but the pressure of despair is too strong. I ...... I can’t remember a good memory. No, wait, there is one, one

of,of......a sunny day. B..but there is no sun anymore. I can’t remember the sun anymore. I try to hold on to the silhouette of the sun, but I...... I can’t. I can see it slipping, drifting away slowly, from me and into the darkness. The dark embraces it, curling around it until I can see nothing but the darkness. I feel the panic rush in, but I can’t panic, no, I can’t. I have to stay calm.


A dream, yes a dream. A dream will definitely help. And I can surely think of a dream. I never forget dreams. Yes, a dream. But which dream? There are so many of them. Oh! There is a chest full of dreams! I am going to open it and go through all of them, one by one. I am going to savour them and smile. I am not going to let the darkness win.

Except that it’s already winning. The chest of dreams is nothing but a chest of nightmares- horrendous, terrifying, cruel nightmares. Oh! My dreams! My beautiful, glorious dreams turned......turned into nightmares! Where are all the happy dreams? I can’t remember being happy! I feel the darkness move closer or is it me moving closer to the darkness? I don’t know. I can’t contemplate or think. I feel it’s cold, strong, but most of all dark hands

enclose around me, pulling me in further and further into itself. Every last ray of happiness (if there are any left) leaves me. I turn around, struggling in its hands, to see a way out, to catch a dwindling ray, but to no avail. All I see is darkness, all I feel is despair, all I can think about is nightmares as I fall deeper still.


Using everything I have left within, I turn around for one last time, a last attempt to escape the dark and I..... I see it- or is it just my mind playing tricks- a hint of white. No, it can’t be. There is nothing bright here. But I can see it, it is right there, slowly growing as it moves closer. Slowly but prominently it takes the shape of a hand. A pale hand, the palest you will ever see, with thin long fingers. I feel the shadow of hope, for the paleness is still too far for me to reach it and the darkness still too strong for me to escape it. The hand moves closer and the pale arms come into view but no matter how hard I try, I can’t see beyond the arm. When close

enough, it stretches its fingers towards me.

With some hope I gain courage, with that courage I acquire some might, but enough to stretch my hands towards the paleness. The warmness of the pale hand rekindles something in me, something which the dark had extinguished. Maybe hope or happiness. It could be familiarity. Maybe a

mixture of all. I don’t know. I don’t remember what any of those feel like. But I do know that the feeling is something positive. I know that the pale hand is something good. The thin, long fingers curl around my palm holding it firmly, but for once the firm grip doesn’t make me flinch instead it calms me. The pale hand pulls at me and I feel the darkness lean away. I feel myself drift away, away from the cold and despair. I feel my nerves relax. I feel the exhaustion my mind just went through and I feel the wall in my mind, obstructing half my thoughts, weaken.


The dreams and memories shut up by the force of despair now struggle to come out, thrusting themselves upon the wall till it breaks. Dreams and memories fill my mind and happiness fills my heart. Then in a distance appears a bright light. The pale hand holds on but I don’t need it anymore to know that I will reach the light. But I hold in to it still, for somewhere deep inside my mind, I am scared to leave it scared to not be able to see it or the bright light, scared to be sucked in by the darkness again.

But I wonder if the darkness is now strong enough to hold on to me. I can see it weakening, see it fading to white. And with every fading inch of black, my heart cheers just a little bit, my mind comprehends the dreams just a little more, I feel just a little better.


Soon the white starts to embrace me, filling the air with life, with dreams, with memories and everything good. It does not take long for the light to engulf me completely and a smile finds it’s way on my face for now I remember that sunny day, I remember the warmth on my skin. The light surrounding me turns into that sunny day and suddenly I am lying down on the grass, in tranquil, treasuring every passing moment. Engraving it deep within my mind. A roar of happiness surges through me and

I dream a beautiful, white dream.

-Ishita Tandon