The lights went off. The television that a second ago was roaring like a wild lion had become a super silent, tamed cat. Fully asleep. The room was quiet as a grave.

BOOM! A bomb exploded, startling everyone. Except it was not a bomb. It was just the loudest thunderstorm of the year, bringing in an earthquake. That was a scary one. Mummy hugged sani baini (little sister) tightly. And there I was, glibly saying how the sky had let out a fart. She laughed out loud. I smiled.

It was strange. There was no sign of rain, and the sky was fierce. “See you later!” I shouted and ran upstairs. The sun had just dipped to the horizon—a gloomy dusk with dark clouds spread across like grey cotton candy. I casually laid my whole body on our terrace's slightly dusty, dark magenta tiles. The thought of him crossed my mind.

“Aanvi, stop being such a hopeless romantic!” my brain yelled. Yet there I was, fantasising about life and love. By ‘him’, I meant an imaginary character in my head whom I had not yet met in real life. Still, I felt so connected to ‘him’. God knows what reading too much fiction does to your brain.

The stars started twinkling slowly amidst the clouds, revealing glimpses of the night sky. I hate it when there is no power and no internet. But right now, I love it more than anything. No artificial light blocks the rays coming straight from the universe. I look at the three stars perfectly aligned straight in the Orion belt. They start moving forward the longer I stare. For a second, my brain tricks me into thinking they are shooting stars and I already make a wish. So mindless.

The moon was crescent that day. What I didn’t see was the dark, gibbous side. The tall avocado tree that had crept up to our terrace shielded me from the sunlight that would have burned my skin if it were daytime. The leaves were still, and the birds were quiet.

Suddenly, lightning struck the sky in two parts. The roaring wind made its way to me, caressing my short brown hair but sending prickly goosebumps through my skin. The atmosphere had now let out a gentle cry. Drizzling pearl drops falling to the ground were enough for me to feel the water but not even close to drenching me. The same Avocado tree was now shielding me from the rain. A calm, fresh scent lingered in the air.

I was sitting down now, with my back resting on the wall. Without warning, the leaves started dancing with fright. Or, who knows, they may be dancing of might? The storm was a perfect backdrop for my daydreams. I imagined him- my imaginary character as a knight of sorts, bravely battling the storm, his silhouette framed by the flashes of lightning.

My heart raced with each rumble of thunder, not out of fear but from the thrill of fantasy. I pictured us meeting by chance, perhaps in a quaint, rain-soaked café where he’d look across the room, and our eyes would lock, and just like that, the world would fall away. The idea made me smile despite the storm’s ferocity.

Just then, Mum’s voice from downstairs cut through my daydream, snapping me out of my daze and bringing my mind back to reality.

“Aanvi! Come inside. It’s getting late, and you’ll catch a cold out there.” Reluctantly, I got up, brushing off the dust from the tiles—except it was also a little wet. As I descended the stairs, I glanced back at the terrace. The storm had left magic in the air, and I felt renewed hope. Maybe the universe was waiting for the right moment to introduce me to my story’s hero if he existed.

There was still no electricity. Only the solar-powered lights provided illumination. My sisters played back in the living room, shouting at each other. Aashna, four years younger than me, came home late. The 10th-grade pressure and extra classes were something. The storm outside mirrors the internal storm she must have been going through. Thankfully, it was the weekend. The brown fan above our heads started moving. Then, the realisation hit. “The power’s back!” everyone shouted with joy.

Aashna and I had a habit of cranking up the volume on the speaker to play our favourite songs and dance inside my room just before dinner. We were a noisy family—or rather, we made the house erupt with noise.

We pretended to waltz like in the Victorian Era, jumped around like kangaroos making goofy steps, shouted along to party songs, and sometimes had a karaoke session with pencils as our microphones. Before eating, our hair would be so humid, our bodies freshly drenched in sweat, and our souls all rejuvenated and alive. It was the best therapy one could ask for.

It was going to be midnight. Being a night owl gave my ears the peace they longed for all day. Rain was still pouring, singing nature’s melodious song. What more could one ask for? You’ve got a roof over your head, food to eat, good health and a happy family. So much to be thankful for.

Wrapped around the blanket in the bed, a surge of happiness transcended all over my body. The warm yellow light cast an electrifying glow on the ceiling. I sat there in silence, recalling the day. Everything had felt unreal, and the evening had felt so rushed. Today was September 6th, and in a minute, it would be September 7th.

The hour and minute hands were aligned on the wall clock, a perfect half-vertical line, like how one would draw the radius of a circle in Math class.

Something was strange. The clock stopped moving. The paintings I had hung up on the wall started floating. The light started flickering. I wanted to move, but I couldn’t. I wanted to shout, but my mouth wouldn’t. What was happening? I felt someone shaking me violently. And a childish voice excitingly blabbering something.

“Didi, wake up! Happy Birthday!” I woke up drenched in sweat, trying to comprehend everything. No way, it was all a dream. I stared out the window. Everything was so bright. The clock was ticking. It was 7:15 am exactly. The paintings were hung upright on the wall.

I got out of bed and opened my phone. It was September 6th. I had turned 18. What in the world?

Hadn’t today already passed? Wasn’t it supposed to be the 7th of September today? Everything felt so real yet so fake. Today had just started. And, no, my family had not forgotten my birthday. But I had forgotten it, even in the dream. Wait, was it really all a dream?

“Didi, look at the card I made you!” Sani baini was screaming with joy.

“Thank you, kanchi,” I said and hugged her. “Did you hear the sky fart so loud at night? I hugged mummy and slept again,” she said and laughed out loud. “Really?” I said and laughed with her. It was my mind making all those scenarios. It was such a vivid dream. Everyone wished me well. Except for Aashna, who had already left school so early. Then, a warm bath was all I needed to come back to reality. Mummy put a tika on my forehead and suggested that I visit Budhanilkantha temple.

I loved believing in God. Visiting temples had always felt so purifying and surreal. “Don’t forget to carry an umbrella! It may rain very soon.”, Mummy shouted from the kitchen while I was searching for my slippers.

“Okay!” I said and headed out. The sky looked gloomy today, as if it was about to burst into tears. Returning from Narayanthan, I entered the famous dairy shop and bought two cans of rasgulla. Everyone loved them. All of a sudden, clear pearl drops started falling to the ground. I opened the umbrella. “Mummy’s instincts are always true,” I thought. At that very moment, my body craved some hot tea.

A quaint, rain-soaked café was in sight. I was hesitant to go, as it felt nostalgic. But no one could stop me. I entered inside. “A cup of hot milk tea, please,” I said.

“Sure! Be seated,” the cashier replied, handing me the change.

I sat down by the window. Beautiful wood sculptures were hung all over the café, giving it an ancient vibe. Just then, I caught someone else looking across the room, too. Brown eyes and curly hair. Our eyes locked, and just like that, the world faded away. I smiled. He smiled, too. That was when I realised my dream had come true.

Upadhyay is a Kathmandu-based writer.