Despite loving his work, any sane man would agree that being a teacher was tiresome and demanding. Malik himself was no exception and was, after all, only human. As such, whenever weekends came around, he enjoyed it to the fullest, usually resting, to start anew on the following monday. Most of his Saturdays and Sundays were spent lying on his bed, lazily reading a book, watching whatever was remotely watchable on TV or taking naps. Sometimes he went out with Kadar and sometimes he didn't didn’t come back home - his brother was a great cook after all, and Malik never refused an invite to have dinner with him.

First it was weird when Kadar got his own house and they started living separately. Now it was weird visiting and seeing his girlfriend - now fiance, he had to remind himself - sharing the place with him (but no less welcoming). He was getting used to the additional feminine touches (though he feared he would never get used to her eccentric superstitions) and it made him happy to see Kadar always smiling.

Before Anne moved in, Malik used to take the free space on Kadar’s huge bed. Now he uses the couch, but with no complaints. It’s still comfortable and big enough to fit him whole. It works just as good as the bed and besides, he prefers it that way - he can leave the lights on for longer and read his books till sleep finds him.

He was so damned certain that after a few weeks without any nightmares his physical exhaustion would be gone for good, yet the moment he entered through the front door, he felt as if his energy had been completely drained. If Kadar or Anne noticed anything, they didn't mention it.

After dinner, Anne locked herself in her office to work on her monograph. They stayed in the living room, talking about trivial things, watching some late night shows until Malik couldn't keep his eyes open anymore and promptly claimed the couch for himself.

He was so positively sure nothing would happen tonight, especially tonight, because the last thing he wanted was for his brother to learn about what his nightmares did to him. And despite not believing in karma, he started to think that if it did exist in fact, then he must have done something unforgivable in his past lives for suffering like this.

It was three in the morning when his eyes shot open and he jumped from the couch, falling hard on the ground. He kicked the coffee table in the process, hit his arm against some glasses and a vase of flowers on top of it, dropping everything to the ground. The vase shattered with a loud noise and the glasses rolled away, not breaking, but still loud enough that Kadar came running a minute later to see what was going on.

He did not see him at first, too busy trying to put as much distance between him and the couch as if it burned. His throat locked tight and he gasped for air, crawling backwards as fast as possible, only stopping when his back hit the wall. In seconds, Kadar was by his side, holding his shoulder.

"What's wrong? What's happening?!"

He heard footsteps and saw Anne running to him from behind Kadar.

"I don't know! Make it stop!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, but regretted this decision when it only made breathing harder. His hands clutched his head with force but he didn't care. It distracted him from the terrible pounding inside his head.

"It looks like a nervous breakdown." She spoke as calmly as possible.

"What do I do?"

"Try to hold him down!"

Malik felt his brother hold his shoulders with both hands and he couldn’t even move or tell him to stop. Still hiding his face from the others, his right hand grabbed Kadar’s shirt tightly. ‘Breathe. Calm down and breathe.’ the words formed a mantra on his mind.

“What’s causing this? Malik, look at me.”

“I don’t know!” Malik wished he knew. He honestly wished he knew so he could stop whatever it was that was causing this anxiety. “I’m - I see things, ugh!” His forehead rested against Kadar’s chest. “These dreams, these visions, I don’t know what they are, I just - shit!”

Kadar pulled him into a tight embrace. He rubbed circles on his back and part of him wanted to punch his brother for treating him like he was the younger brother. But perhaps that’s what made him calm down a little. His breathing slowed down until it was regular again and the pain on his chest eased for a bit. The best part was his throat wasn’t suffocating him anymore which made him a lot more relaxed. Still, his hands shook violently, but Anne mentioned it would stop after a while. He took a deep breath and once he felt better (though the fear and panic rushing through his mind remained), he slowly let go of Kadar, resting against the wall again. He still held a hand over his face, not enjoying the way he managed to make a show of his problem in front of other people, let alone his own brother.

“I’ll leave you two alone if you need to talk, but call me if you need anything alright?”

Malik saw her touch Kadar’s shoulder and nodded. Then she headed for the balcony, closing the glass door behind her. Looking behind Kadar, he noticed the mess caused by his panic. If he had been home he wouldn’t have minded, but he was troubling his brother with his own problem and he hated it.

“Has this happened before?”

Malik nodded tiredly. “A few times. Started recently.”

Kadar pondered about the information for a moment. “You should’ve told me about this.” the disappointment in his voice was too much for him to bear.

“I didn’t want to tell anyone, besides, I thought it was temporary. I didn’t think it would return. Especially today. I’m sorry Kadar.” but Kadar quickly shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry, idiot!” sighing, he helped Malik up and guided him to the couch. “You said something about dreams.”

“More like nightmares.” He made a face when portions of these nightmares flickered through his mind. “Terrible ones. So much blood, so many people.” once again his hands covered his face, but Kadar didn’t stop staring. It comforted him in a way.

“Was that why you asked me for that dreamcatcher?”

He nodded meekly.

“You know dreamcatchers don’t really work, right? They’re just a tiny hula hoop with strings, feathers and beads.”

Malik felt like crying. “I know that! I know that and that’s the worst part because that damned trinket actually worked! These stupid nightmares didn’t stop entirely, but they didn’t come so frequently and with such intensity after you gave me that thing.”

“What made you better was believing that it would give you better dreams. It’s the same for me. All these lucky charms Anne gives me? I don’t believe in them, but I believe in her and that makes me feel protected. Have you tried meditating?”

“I’m going to kill you, Kadar.” Malik shot him a murderous glare. “I’m being serious here.”

“And so am I! Meditating helps you keep control of your body, it could help with these panic attacks.”

He pondered the idea, which was better than downright turning it down.

“Alright, look, if you want something more scientifically proved, then you could try yoga. It helps you control breathing. Really!”

Before Malik could reply however, they heard a scream. It wasn’t loud and didn’t last long, but since both Kadar and Anne looked in the direction it came from, he knew he wasn’t just hearing things. Following it came the screeching sound of tires against asphalt and in no time dogs around the neighborhood started barking at the unwelcoming uproar.

Anne entered the room again and hid a yawn behind her hand.

“What was that?” Kadar asked curiously, perhaps a bit preoccupied.

“That stupid neighbor again, he took off with his car like there was a fire or something. He hit the fucking garbage can and woke up half the dogs around town. Ugh, I need an aspirin.” With tired eyes, she looked back at Malik. “Feeling better? Wanna a ride to the hospital?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Nodding sympathetically, she left through the corridor that led to the stairs. Kadar was rubbing his back when her face peeked out from behind the wall again and she quietly asked:

“Ever tried yoga? Helps with breathing, you know.”

The sound Malik made then was the closest thing to weeping Kadar would ever hear from him.

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Not long after that incident Malik found himself heading to the cramped, dimly lit area of the library at college that no one ever went to. The labels on the the few bookshelves read “Exoterics and self-help” and he couldn’t help but cringe at himself, highly reconsidering the urge to leave before anyone caught him. He blamed his curiosity (because that’s what it was, simply curiosity and not a desperate act) on his lack of sleep and exponential increase of nightmares.

According to the book in his hands, a rather small blue book with hardcover that read “The meaningful dreams”, dreaming of his own arm meant struggles and challenges in his life. Which yes, he was being troubled by dreams. Dreams that showed him his own arm, to warn him of hardships the dreams were causing.

It made no sense whatsoever.

An injured arm, however (did they have cut off arm in it?), meant being unable to help himself. Lovely. He also looked up the meaning of seeing his own brother die in his dreams, and the missing finger, none of which were very helpful with the vague responses either.

But recently his dreams had become longer and more vivid. He could absorb more details now and he remembered them for longer. In the past week, he dreamt twice of people dressed in white. He interacted with some of them, even. He was inside a room, a large one, filled with colored cushions. Daylight entered through the door to his left and illuminated the place with an orange glow. He spent most of his time working on something, though he couldn’t make out what it was, nor did he remember those moments well enough because they didn’t seem important.

The moments he did remember were the men dressed in white coming and going. They’d come from the door, talked to him for a while, sometimes they delivered him things, and then they’d be on their way. One man in particular grabbed his attention. Whenever he came in, Malik tensed. His presence alone made him boil with anger and he didn’t even know why. His face... he couldn’t remember the face of that man, no matter how hard he tried.

He turned his nose in disgust and closed the book, putting it back in its place. Before he could turn to leave though, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“If you wanted to read those kind of books you could have asked me, Anne has like, half a dozen of them.”

“I don’t want to read that book, I was just checking it out.” He turned fully to Kadar. “And I was right, nothing in there. These dreams are completely meaningless.”

Angry that he had come to look for answers and found none, Malik turned sharply to leave, but was met by another person. They collided violently and he had to take a few steps back, being supported by his brother in order not to fall.

The headache returned instantly. That faint, lingering sensation of a buzzing inside his head, something that made him unfocused and tired. He looked up at the man who bumped into him. He didn’t seem to be feeling any better either, supporting himself in one of the bookshelves and hunching forward, clutching his head. Weird, Malik didn’t remember bumping his head, so why were they both feeling as if they did?

“Malik?” Kadar shook him slightly and he noticed that the moment his name was heard, the man in front of him looked him in the eyes. A weird man, wearing a white hood inside a building. His eyes were a burning gold and when he looked down he noticed a faint white scar on his lips.

“You. Malik Al-Sayf?” The man asked between short puffs of air. He seemed as distressed as Malik himself.

“Why? Who are you? What do you want?” Malik couldn’t say another world. In a moment he was falling and his brother was catching him. The last thing he saw from the corner of his eyes was the man in front of him collapsing as well.

He wished the man would be gone when he woke up. That this had all been a bad dream.

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