The Waking

She asked if he was my dream.
I said ‘no’
because dreams belong to sleep,
and he belongs to my waking.

Dreams fade by morning,
dissolving softly into light,
leaving no weight behind.

He stays,
not as a promise spoken aloud,
but as a presence
that settles into the day,
unchanging, unannounced.

Dreams are safe, carefully unreal,
crafted to never ask too much.
But he isn’t.
That’s why I tremble,
because he is real,
and real things can change you,
can rearrange the quiet rooms inside you.

He wasn’t written in the stars,
wasn’t destiny pretending to be kind.
He was a decision,
made in silence,
where fear and clarity intertwined.

And I choose him
not once,
not dramatically,
not in ways the world applauds.

I choose him quietly,
every day,
in memory,
in restraint,
in the way my heart remembers him
even when the world, doesn’t ask it to.

~Rachana Sudhakar 🤍✨
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