The Doorway of Dreams

In a forgotten corner of the mountains, where stars hung low and winds carried the scent of pine and memory, there lived a boy named Zahid. His life was quiet. Days passed in rhythm with the land—he fetched water from the spring, gathered wood, helped his mother bake bread, and listened to his grandfather’s tales under the night sky. But while his days were woven from earth and duty, his nights belonged to dreams.

And lately, the dreams had changed.

They began gently, like fog drifting in through the cracks of sleep. But with each passing night, they grew stronger, clearer. Zahid found himself walking alone through a forest he’d never seen before—ancient, endless, and silvered with mist. The trees stretched like towers, and the ground shimmered faintly, as though it remembered starlight.

At the center of that forest stood a doorway—a frame of stone carved with glowing symbols, tall and silent, without wall or building around it. It stood alone, yet it felt alive. Light pulsed softly within, golden and deep, like something breathing on the other side.

Zahid never stepped through. Not in the dreams.

He only watched. And listened.

Sometimes he heard a voice whisper his name. Other times there was only stillness, heavy and sacred.

He never spoke of the dreams. Who would believe him? In the village, dreams were things to forget by morning. But Zahid couldn’t forget. The doorway lingered in his mind, in his bones. It called to something inside him that had no name.

One morning, after a night where the dream had felt more real than waking, Zahid rose before the sun. The house was quiet, his family still asleep. He stepped outside, drawn by something he didn’t understand.

The path beneath his feet was not one he knew, yet his steps did not hesitate. Through thickets and across streams, he wandered deeper into the forest than ever before. Birds quieted as he passed. Trees leaned closer, listening.

And then he saw it.

The same stone doorway—real, weathered, breathing light.

It stood exactly as in his dreams, framed by two ancient trees whose roots gripped the earth like secrets. The symbols on the stone shimmered. The air around it was still, like the world was holding its breath.

Zahid stepped closer. His hand reached out, trembling. As his fingers brushed the stone, a warm pulse rushed through him. The doorway gave a soft hum, like a deep chord struck in the soul.

And then—it opened.

Not with hinges or sound, but with light. The space within the frame shimmered, shifting into a golden passage that seemed to stretch far beyond the limits of the world.

For a heartbeat, Zahid hesitated.

Then he stepped through.

The world behind him melted away. The forest, the sky, the cold earth—all vanished. He floated in a space of colors and music, of memory and silence. It was as if he had entered the dream itself—not as a visitor, but as a part of it.

He landed softly in a valley unlike any he’d known—skies of lavender clouds, trees of crystal leaves, rivers that glowed from within. Time moved differently here. The air felt like it carried stories.

And Zahid understood:

He had not stumbled here by chance.

He was chosen.

Ahead, a path unfolded beneath his feet—silver stones that glowed with each step. Strange creatures watched him from afar, not with malice, but with knowing eyes. Somewhere deeper in this world, something waited—a truth, a challenge, maybe a destiny.

Zahid breathed deeply, steadied himself, and walked forward.

Because some dreams do not end when you wake.

Some begin when you dare to follow them.

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To be continued...