Echoes Of The Heart

Chapter 7

CAROLINE'S POINT OF VIEW

There was something heavy on my chest. I couldn't breathe. No matter how hard I tried, I kept gasping for air. But it felt like there was no oxygen left around me, like I was in a vacuum. Suddenly, there was water in my lungs. I could feel them filling up, getting heavy in my chest. I was in water, so deep that it was dark all around me. I couldn't see the surface. I was drowning. I shut my eyes tightly. This was it. I was dying. Suddenly, I felt something bright. I opened my eyes to see a light coming from my right. It was so bright that I had to turn my head towards the other side. I saw the face of the same man whom I had seen dying the other day. He was saying the same exact words. His eyes were closed and he was young. He looked so radiant and different but I recognized him from his voice. How had he become so young? I started reciting the same words after him. I kept reciting them. I felt my lungs getting lighter and the burden from my chest lifting. I took in a deep breath and as I opened my eyes, I realized I was in my room.

The curtains were pushed aside and the morning light was entering my room. I felt so grateful. Yet another day to do whatever I wanted to.

The dream crossed my mind and my heart started beating faster. What was it? What did it mean? Why was this happening to me? The more I try to understand what I am going through, the more perplexing the situation becomes. I need to talk to someone. I need to seek help about this. I just cannot sit at home and read books. That would lead me nowhere. Umar too, has been of no use. I decided to go to the mosque and seek answers to my questions. I had to do this for the peace of my heart. I have to know what the truth is and what the wrong is. Have I been living in the darkness until now? Is this what the dream was about?

I got up. There were still two hours before I had to go to work, so I wore a loose trouser and a long, loose shirt. I was going to enter a mosque. I had to dress very carefully.

I stood before the mosque. It was a blue tiled building with a dome shaped structure on the top. Four minarets stood tall around it. I draped my shawl around my head, the same as every woman entering the mosque had done. I passed this mosque almost every day on my way to the office, but standing here so close, oh, it left me in awe. This was Allah's house. I knew that He was everywhere but I could just feel Him close, looking at me with love. I couldn't help but smile. "Are you looking at me right now? Do I even matter to You?" The idea of not mattering to Him hurt and I could feel my throat closing up. I touched one of the tiles, closed my eyes and stroked it. Streams of tears started falling from my eyes. I sat there on the stairs, leaning with the side wall one hand on the tile and kept weeping, unaware of what the people would say, or if anyone would stare or think that I was crazy. I just didn't care. This was the most amazing feeling. I wanted these tears to keep falling forever. They were a priceless treasure. These were my only assets. I had nothing else to give to this God, Allah that I knew nothing about, yet I could cry for centuries to get to know Him, to make Him love me. This might be how falling in love must feel to lovers. This was what falling in love means. I kept repeating His name. Allah. Allah. Allah.

Oh Allah, I love you. Do you love me? A light breeze stroked my cheeks. I started crying more hysterically. I was in love and I loved the feeling.