Dreaming About The Past

<p>(Rahma's pov)<br/><br/>Do you know what's the worse part of living sometimes?, It's when the pain never goes away, when you cry your self to sleep and wake up feeling lonely, when there is no one there for you, when you have passed through hell alone, when you think you've finally found a shoulder to cry on just to be disappointed, I thought I was done being hurt, I thought I became numb and used to the pain but deep down it's there, living becomes so hard for me sometimes, I just want to die because I know that maybe in my grave I'll find peace, maybe the hurt will be less.<br/><br/>What have I done to deserve this cruel life? I'm just a girl born to be a black, a girl born to worship Allah, where is my fault in all this?.<br/><br/>Breathing became harder as the dream I was having became more vivid.<br/><br/>There I was, a four year old me holding onto the hands of her father, I looked up to him to see my father smiling at me, I always looked up to my father, he was very handsome even if he was a black, he always treated my mom like a queen while treating me like a princess, my mom was a white but she loved my dad nonetheless, we weren't rich but we were very happy, my father reached down to carry little me into his arm which made me giggle, we didn't usually go out much because of what the society thought about us.<br/><br/>Today was jumu'at so my Dad decided to take us to the little masjid beside our house, My mom wanted me to follow her into the women praying section but I wanted to hang on to my dad so I decided to follow him instead, although I wasn't really praying I was still mimicking what they were doing as they prayed, My Dad and other men were still praying when I heard gunshots, I clinged on to my father because of how frightened I became but they kept on praying, they just did their Salam(concluding prayers) when some men in black shot through the imams head, I got a good sight of it because we were seated on the second roll from where the imam sat.<br/><br/>I started crying and shouting and my father did his best to console me and  close my eyes to prevent me from seeing what was unfolding, I was hugging my father tight, scared to let go, he stood up and tried making his way out of the masjid to find my mom, we were almost at the womens side when two bulky men dragged my father.<br/><br/>He scream and tried to fight while calling Allahs name but they didn't bulge, I tried pulling them away from my dad but nothing worked so my brain told me to go look for my mom so that she could send the bad guys away.<br/><br/>The Muslims kept on running, crying and kept on calling Allahs name, I kept on running in attempt to find my mother, luckily I found her looking for me.<br/><br/>"Rahma!" My mom called my name with tears dripping down her face.<br/><br/>"T-they w-wint  l-let d-dad g-go" I said while shaking, but my mom understood everything I said, so I dragged her to where I left my dad last but he wasn't there, my mom became worried and took me to hide in a corner and wait for her.<br/><br/>I obeyed her and hid, I sat there for hours with my little body shaking, I waited and waited but she never came back and I never saw my dad again, soon a woman came to pass by and took me with her to the orphanage, I kept on crying and asking about my parents but all they kept on saying was that everything will be okay and my parents will come to get me but they never did.<br/><br/>A year went by with my little brain never forgetting the incidence that happened and at some point I lost pictures and images of how my parents looked like, I tried so hard so hold onto the happy memories but nothing helped as everyone around me called me ugly, the kids never wanted to be my friends and no one ever wanted to adopted me.<br/><br/>I started question why I was created a black, why I was a Muslim, why my parents never came back, why everyone hated me so much, why the thought of suicide became so frightening, at some point I stopped believe in Allah, I might have been young but My father raised me well teaching me all about Islam and why Muslims are so special and why we should believe in Allah no matter what cause he knows of us and loves us.<br/><br/>So when I stopped believing things became much more hard for me, and I knew that I had to find my way back to Allah, since nobody wanted to talk to me, I always talked to Allah, since no one wanted to hear me complain, I always complained to Allah, since there was no shoulder for me to cry on, I always cried in my Sujud, I was messed up yes, but I always kept believing in Allah and that was the only thing that kept me going.<br/><br/>Soon my lashes fluttered open as I woke up from my dream, it just reminded me about the past and how much struggle I passed through and how much struggle I still am passing through, it was currently 1:00am and I didn't feel like going back to sleep, I was sleeping in the store when I had that dream now I'm drenched in my sweat, it started raining outside and I became much more calm.<br/><br/>I wasn't wearing my hijab but I was wearing my pajamas, I felt the urge to go out into the rain and that's exactly what I did, I slowly stepped into the rain letting myself get drenched.<br/><br/>It felt peaceful again so I sat down there on the grass, looking up at the sky and making different wishes to Allah, I know he hears me and I know he has better plans for me.<br/><br/>After staying in the rain for twenty minutes, I decided to go back inside, it was cold but nothing I couldn't handle, I went back into the store and soon started dosing off.<br/><br/>Well tomorrow is going to be a new day, maybe I get to see Asif, and with that thought I fell asleep again.<br/><br/>A/N <br/>leave a comment 🍒</p>