A Lucid Dream

In a small village called Rukhon, the Adamov family lived—Ahmad and Maya. One beautiful day, they welcomed a son. It happened early in the morning on July 15, 1959. They named him Ruslan.

After some time, the parents realized with horror that their son was blind. At first, no one noticed—his gaze was just like that of any other newborn. Days turned into weeks, the boy grew, but he did not react to light or follow movements.

"Why does he always stare at one spot?" Maya asked anxiously.

One day, a terrible realization gripped her heart.

"He… he's blind…" she whispered.

No one could comfort her. She wept, holding the baby close to her chest, while his motionless eyes remained serious and full of mystery.

At first, Ahmad and Maya were deeply distressed, but over time, they came to terms with it. Ahmad worked from morning till night, while Maya left her job to take care of their son.

Ruslan quickly learned to recognize his parents by their footsteps, voices, and subtle signs only he could perceive. He was active and curious, but over time, his blindness left its mark on him. Gradually, he became more withdrawn, often sitting in a corner with a frozen expression, as if listening intently to something.

His hearing and sense of touch developed extraordinarily. The world that others saw with their eyes, Ruslan experienced through sounds and touch. He could feel the vibrations of footsteps, detect the slightest changes in people's voices, and understand a person’s mood just by the way they breathed.

When Ruslan turned six, he was sent to a school for the blind. There, he was very different from his peers. He had a unique gift—he could sense people. Not just their presence, but their essence: he could almost unmistakably determine whether a person was kind or cruel. His favorite presence to sense was his mother’s—it always filled him with warmth and peace.

Ruslan had few friends, except for a girl named Rimma, who lived in the house across the street. A sincere friendship connected them, growing stronger with each passing year.

When Ruslan turned seven, his family was struck by a terrible tragedy.

That evening, nothing foreshadowed disaster. The Adamov family went for a walk in a small park near their home. They strolled, holding hands, enjoying the warm evening. Upon returning, Ahmad and Maya entered their son's room to wish him goodnight. Ahmad gently hugged Ruslan and told him how much he loved him. Then, the parents went to bed.

Morning came.

Maya woke up feeling happy and was about to go downstairs to prepare breakfast. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, but then her gaze fell on Ahmad. He lay unnaturally still, eerily quiet. Her heart pounded as she touched his shoulder—it was as cold as marble.

"Ahmad!" she screamed, shaking him desperately. But he did not move.

The realization hit her like an avalanche. She screamed—a cry of pain, fear, and despair.

Ruslan was not fully awake yet, but he heard the strange, gut-wrenching sound. He sat up in bed, listening. The screams came from his parents' bedroom. His heart began to race. Stumbling, he rushed out of his room and felt his way to his mother.

"Mama, what happened? Why are you screaming?" he asked in a trembling voice.

Maya didn’t want to traumatize her son, but the truth could not be hidden. She embraced Ruslan and whispered through her tears:

"Papa is gone… He will never come back…"

After the funeral, they returned to an empty home. Maya went up to her room to be alone. Ruslan stepped outside, listening to the sounds of the world, trying to process what had happened.