The Buried Dream

By Shrimant

When the deaf and dumb couple talk to Riya in her dreams four decades after their murder, can she solve the crime before she becomes the next victim?

Riya's mother should have believed when she told about her recurring dreams that she would get cancer. She could have survived. Instead, her mother told she was a child, and only a doctor can say if someone has a disease. Riya repents why she could not convince her that she had got similar frequent dreams before the death of her grandmother and also before the accidental death of her father when she was a child. She loses her family. Her home city in the UK feels so depressing to her that when Riya gets a job in Sydney, she moves without a second thought. But when Riya again sees a beautiful distressed couple in her dreams for months in a row, she finally decides to act. Drawing sketches of a house they appear to live; she jumps onto the street to find them.

This time, Riya is not alone. Coincidence or destiny, she meets Sagar who has got similar dreams and has already found the house, they both have seen in identical dreams. But he has not found the couple.

Timely action by Riya and Sagar can save two beautiful lives.

Then Sagar asks, is the pair still alive? If the dream is correct and the house is real, then where is the couple?

In a startling twist comes the beggar woman Yogini, whom Sagar's father in law terms as a Psychic. Is she going to help them find out what happened to the couple or she is there to find out if Riya is going a step ahead into the forbidden territory of Sagar's marriage with his loving wife Diva?

The Buried Dream is a blend of Mystery, Romance, Thriller and Suspense which brings a forty-year-old mystery to its shocking logical conclusion.

Book Viral Review

A clever and intriguing plot with main characters who are both original and appealing The Buried Dream proves an interesting debut for Shrimant who is particularly adept at setting the tone for his characters and challenges they find themselves facing.

Read the full review at bookviralreviews.com

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bliss Publishing Pty Ltd blisspublishing
• Release date: May 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005269685

Book preview

Chapter 1

Riya felt a surge in her chest, a mix of fear, eagerness and anxiety. This was her nth attempt to convince some sketch artist. Everyone gets dreams at night, but nobody believes them. Because that is normal. And ordinary people do whatever is normal in society. How to convince someone that she had got recurring dreams almost two years before her mother’s death that she would be getting a terminal disease? She could have probably survived, had she believed her daughter’s recurring dream. You are a child, her Mom had laughed her away, only doctors can say if someone has a disease.

Now she is repenting. She should have convinced her. She could have told Mom about her dreams before her grandmother’s death, who was bedridden for years. Mom had to leave her first husband and son in LA and come back to London permanently, only to attend grandma’s prolonged illness. Years passed by, neither grandma died nor got up from the bed. Mom had a divorce because of that. Everybody thought the old woman will last a few more years on the bed. First time Riya’s dream came true. Grandmother died next week. It was not a coincidence. She had also got dreams a week before about her Dad’s accident. He died in the accident.

Keeping the recurring dreams to herself can’t save someone’s life, or at least give justice to the beautiful couple, if they are no more alive. Why otherwise they are coming to her dreams? Let people think that she has a psychological problem. Riya felt her fingers curled tightly around her phone.

She glanced around as Eric went inside to make coffee. Nothing was interesting. A table with just two chairs on the front, and a sofa on the backside facing Eric’s chair. There is no computer on his desk. What type of sketch artist is this? Can someone work without a computer? The walls are full of pictures, must be drawn by him. She stood up to have a perfect glance around the room. Her gaze went to the full-length mirror on the wall facing Eri’s chair. What is this for? Does the retired old man love to watch himself when there is nothing to do? Mostly he should have nothing to do nowadays, after retiring from the police department. She watched her own fingers, raking her blonde curls. Her gaze slowly ran through her own face, then down to her fitting top, short skirt, tight-less bare thighs and knee-high boots. She felt arousal. There is no one to appreciate this beauty. And I am sure I am not gay! She noticed her own smile in the mirror. She is still awaiting a prince to appear in her life, out of nowhere. She might get dreams before his arrival. She was already thirty-two. But, the dream has not predicted everything in her life! She didn’t see beforehand when she shifted to LA with her Mom to be with Mom’s ex-husband and her half-brother! She didn’t know before that she will one day move to Sydney and start working there!

Her gaze went to the reflection of a glass showcase on the corner of the room, a fairy doll wearing a green colour frock. Beautiful. She felt oddly at peace.

Here you go!

Riya swung around suddenly to face Eris with two mugs in his hand.

This one is for you, with just one sugar. His face glowed as he adjusted himself on his chair.

Riya quickly started searching for her Facebook post three months ago, which had become viral. Look at this post, Eric. I am not the only one. More than five hundred people have commented to my post and confirmed having encountered dreams which subsequently happened, in real life. She paused and felt the funny looks in Eric’s eyes. I spilt everything from the beginning. Her chest thumped. She composed herself, reached for her mug of coffee.

Eric placed his mug on the table. You want me to draw sketches of what you saw while sleeping?

Riya held his gaze, debating whether he is taking her seriously. She breathed in deep, trying to control her panic of being rejected again. Pointing at the numerous pictures hung on the walls, she asked: Are these all real?

Yes, they are.

You are such wonderful sketch-artist? Why did you leave the police department? Awareness suddenly punched hard on her. Sorry if I asked a personal question.

No worries, Eric smiled, I was made redundant. I was outdated because of modern technology. Present-day police sketch artists depend more on computers, apps, software. Most of them can’t even draw a small piece of art with their bare hands. My generation was different. We used a lot of imagination. My generation dreamt a lot.

Dreamt a lot! Anticipation bloomed softly through her chest. You are right Eric. That is your strength. In fact, I have met a few modern sketch artists. But I felt they can’t do what I want. In fact, they don’t know how to dream.

Eric stared straight into Riya’s eyes.

Did I say something awkward? She looked down in apprehension.

So, you have seen those guys only in your dream!

Yes. Several times. Not for only a few days. But months and years. I see the same faces again and again. So many times that they have become familiar, like next-door neighbours, or someone in your neighbourhood whom you know well, but only by the face. But don’t know the details about them. I know you will find this awkward, but please don’t disappoint me. In fact, I met many police sketch artists privately. They thought I was abnormal. Will you also think similarly? Believe me, I have no mental ailment. I work as an IT contractor in a multinational company. Do you think a multinational company I work will keep me if I am mental?

I consider you normal, my child, Eric assured, dreaming is not a dirty word. In fact, many innovative ideas come as a dream of great scientists. Have you told anyone about your dream? Like your colleagues or close friends?

Initially I told my roommates, she admitted. We were a few girls sharing the apartment. At first, it was like just another dream. When I told about the same thing, again and again, I could notice disquiet in their eyes. They would listen, though.

So, finally, they stopped listening!

Riya smiled, No, they started teasing me. They started calling me dream-girl. At first, I didn’t mind. But a day came when even their boyfriends also called me dream-girl. I got an opportunity in Sydney and moved here.

Eric sat straight. Any police sketch-artist would ask you the features of the suspect. But I am going to make a sketch of something which probably neither exists nor ever existed. I need to look at them through your eyes through your dream.

Riya swallowed.

I am a retired man and available fulltime for your job. Drawing sketches are my passion. I will do your work. Just remember, this is something beyond the sketch of another suspect. So, it may take time.

***

I have prepared detailed notes I thought could help you, Riya had taken the pain of making a summary of her hundreds of notes. She had even photocopied all the records.

Eric’s fingers hopped through fifty-odd pages, My God, his fingers stopped, and eyes raised from the notes to meet Riya’s gaze, you have almost written a book. Are you serious about this job?

Yes, Eric.

See, I will keep only your rough sketches, not the notes. Use the notes just to answer my questions. Alright? Let’s start the interview.

Eric started jotting down on a piece of paper as Riya narrated the stories.

So, you want sketches with different backgrounds?

Yes, Eric, the background will help me to find out the location.

Did the couple tell you the location?

They never tell me anything, Riya confessed, they just appear at a different location. From their appearance, they seem to be a couple. And they have some story to tell. If you can draw the backgrounds, probably that will help to get a clue where they belonged to.

Have you tried to notice any signboard in those backgrounds?

No.

Next time try to notice, Eric suggested.

Riya burst into laughter, Eric, I see these things only in my dream when I have no control over my body. You see, I am not in a conscious state when I see them. Of course, I never remember to have seen any signboard.

No worries, I need to draw at least a dozen sketches, with different backgrounds that you remember. It may take a few days. You may come back at nine am next Saturday. Eric got up and came with Riya to see her off near his driveway. On second thought, you may give a call by Wednesday. I will let you know if I finish.

That would be nice, I am dying to see the sketches. I will make it to you any day of the week." She drove off.

***

Riya left her office after lunch to come to Eric. Her heart was kicking when she entered his house. Eric asked her to wait on the sofa as he went inside.

She silently stood, rocking back and forth on her heels, the heart was thumping fast against her ribs. Sweat dampened her chest. She dragged herself and slumped on the sofa.

Eric brought about a dozen sketches. The coffee table was not enough for spreading them all. He pulled the Ottoman and spread across the rest. It is prudent to look at all sketches at the same time. You can do a better comparison.

Eric left her alone with the pictures and went inside. Riya got up from the sofa, kneeled near the coffee table and scrutinised the sketches intently.

He came back after a while with two mugs in his hand, Here you go, coffee with just one sugar.

So, you remember how I drink coffee! She got up and took the coffee from him. These sketches are realistic copies of my dreams.

So, the sketches are final!

No, I may come back for a few more, she sat down on the sofa with the mug in her hand, I may request you to draw few more backgrounds. You see none of the backgrounds is giving me a clue about the location. This may be any corner of Australia. How am I going to find out?

Don’t worry, I will help you.

His mobile phone rang, and he went to another room to take the call.

Riya’s eyes widened. Mouth quivered. This man was with the police for fifty years. Does he know something about this case? Oh, God! There is no case at all. All I want to know at this moment is whether the couple I see in my dream regularly is real!

Eric came back.

Sorry, I got distracted.

Then how to know which part of Australia the couple is showing me?

Eric thought for a while and replied, Let’s go through the sketches I have drawn for you.

Eric and Riya examined the pictures. I have visited many places in Australia, Eric’s glance was focused on the drawings, and I think I can recognise some of the landmarks. This one, Eric lifted one of the sketches, this one is just an old house, must be forty or fifty years old. Doesn’t look like anything remarkable. I am sure this will not give any clue. Fit to go to the bin. Eric scrunched the sketch and looked for another.

This sketch, Riya got up, Eric, I vision this house almost every night. The couple gets out of this house before moving anywhere. I have seen this house so many times that I can recognise it straight away if it truly exists. This property is well kept. I mean that the lawn is well maintained. There are a few rose plants in front of the garden. On the backside …

Okay, I am keeping this one, Eric opened the sketch again, Yes, this has a well-maintained lawn, and few rose plants. What’s great about that?

The lawn is not always perfect like you have shown in the sketch, Riya explained, I mean one night I notice the grass has grown a little bit. Next night I notice again that the lawn is looking better as if it is freshly mowed. I see beautiful roses on the plants during spring and summer. I have also noticed branches have been pruned in winter. By the way why the rose branches are pruned in winter?

Eric’s glance was fixed on Riya, Do you ever do gardening?

No, I live in a rented apartment. Never got time to make even a small garden on the balcony. But I will certainly do gardening in future if I ever move to a house.

Eric quietly placed the sketch on the table and pressed his palm on the creases of the paper. This may be required later. Let’s move to other sketches. He took another sketch from the pile and examined, This one is a beach.

Riya came close to him and held another corner of the sketch.

A sheltered sandy beach. Eric analysed his own sketch. See, there is a rock pool. Looks like a natural swimming pool annexed to the beach. And there is a boat ramp too. Anyway, at this moment, it is not possible to identify this spot.

None of the sketches gave any clue.

Riya hit the accelerator and squealed into the street. The end of the story came even before it started. The cloudy sky responded with a rumble of roaring thunder. Rain slapped hard blocking the view.

Chapter 2

Riya stopped her Toyota Corolla in the rest area and moved to the passenger seat. Pouring hot tea into her mug, she fired her tablet and opened the map of Seven Miles Beach. She can’t still believe Eric could point out to some the real location in a real-world based on the sketch. She had lost count how many times she had visited Eric for making more and more sketches. One new dream, he would make another picture. Finally, one day, she saw sparkles in his eyes.

This beach, Eric said, looks so long. Can you see this waterway?

Looks like a lagoon.

I don’t think so. It looks like a river. Look at the background. There are layers of houses above the hill. A foot over-bridge is running across the water stream and connecting the road to the beach. I think I have seen this place even though I am not a hundred per cent sure. But this water stream might be the Crooked River. The estuary of the river goes parallel to the adjacent road for almost a kilometre and then merges with the sea. You can even walk across the river during low tide. This must be Seven Miles beach.

Are you sure it is that beach? Riya asked.

Eric’s eyes narrowed. Not a hundred per cent sure. Just a calculated guess. So, you have never visited this place? Eric asked.

Normally I visit beaches in Sydney, Riya said, I have never heard of this name. Where is this?

Jesus! I thought whatever you see in real life comes back in the dream. I was wrong! If my guess is true, this is a long beach, more than ten kilometres, From Shoalhaven to Gerroa.

I was planning to drive around the place and look for that old house with rose plants and the frangipani tree. Now it will be like finding a needle from a haystack.

Eric’s voice was comforting. He has seen most of Australia. Shoalhaven, Gerroa and Gerringong are three small coastal towns wrapped around the Seven Miles Beach.

Do you know why this beach is famous? Eric continued without waiting for Riya’s ‘why’. Brightness flickered through his eyes. Sir Charles Kingsford Smith had taken off in his Southern Cross flight to New Zealand. He selected this beach as this allowed a long, smooth take-off for the flight. So many people gathered there in the wee hours of 1933 for being part of history.

Eris advised Riya to install two video cameras on top of the car and drive around the roads of those three towns, the way Google cameras take the street view.

She stared at the map again. My eyes are my video camera. I can drive to each road of these three coastal cities within three days. She glanced at the fairy doll fixed on the dashboard and then gently touched its frock. She loved to dress up the fairy almost every day. This new frock looks beautiful to you, my girl. She felt a lot better after talking to her. I can finish the survey of Shoalhaven Heads probably in a day, there are only about a dozen roads in this city!

Gerroa Road became Bolong Road. Then she entered the Shoalhaven Heads road. There was a large block of land just at the beginning of the way. Must be some private property. Cattle were grazing on the field. A tin shed was visible from the street. She stopped the car on the curve and took out the printouts of the city map. There are not many roads in this city. Then she glanced at the land on her left side. A large block of property secured by a wired fence. There is a large timber gate, closed. Difficult to find out the other end of the property. The view has been blocked by large trees. There might be some house behind those trees. Who knows it is the house I am looking for? If I don’t find any property which matches the sketch, then I should come back here and try to enter this place on some pretext. She opened her notebook. ‘Place of interest’. She wrote next to the note. Is it possible for the first house I come across will be the match? Unlikely. What about if I enter the city from another side and this is the last point? Just before the exit? Wow, I am now thinking like a detective! Sherlock Holmes! A female Sherlock Holmes. She laughed as she opened the car door, got out and stretched. The winter morning was not that cold. Instead, the warm sunlight was pleasant. Riya took out her jacket and placed it on the bonnet. Took out the small flask from the back seat and poured some tea. She ambled on the grass on the footpath while sipping the tea.

Hi, sweetie. A car quickly passed by.

Junkies, suddenly she came out from the other world. She didn’t remember when she took the last sip from the glass. There was no time to waste. I must finish Shoalhaven Heads by the afternoon.

Riya took her jacket and started the car. There was a reserve after that. So technically the city has not started yet. Then she stopped at the information bay and collected some details about Shoalhaven Heads.

The road had many old houses. Many with rose plants and some with frangipani on the front. But none resembled with the sketch. It was not practically possible to look apparently both sides of the road while driving slowly and compare each house with the picture. A helping hand would have been better. The only problem was, nobody was convinced about the cause. She looked for someone who would trust her. Not advise her to visit a psychiatrist. Finally, the car touched McIntosh Street. Left or right? Riya turned right. Again, turning right at Bolt Road, she came to the River Road. A road parallel to Shoalhaven river.

A loud horn blared behind her.

Drunk or just crazy? An elderly man shouted through his car window.

Riya realised she was not driving fast but in a zigzag motion. Luckily the road didn’t have many vehicles. She stopped immediately on the curve and glanced around. Stomach was clenching in hunger. There was a fish and chips shop on the side a little bit ahead of her. Let me have a lunch break.

The shop was almost packed because of the lunch hour. Riya ordered roast salmon with a garden salad for her. It will take fifteen to twenty minutes ma’am, the girl on the counter said, Rush hour, you see.

No worries, I will wait outside on the footpath. Just give me a shout when it’s ready, please.

The counter girl nodded with a smile.

It was a lovely place. Waterfront. The river was so vast that it is difficult to know whether it was just a river or a calm sea without waves. Riya took out the map. That was the estuary. For a moment, she thought of approaching the customers with the sketch of the house. By chance, anyone might recognise it. But hesitation overpowered courage. Ordinary people do not waste time after dreams.

Riya drove again after finishing her lunch. This time back on the River Road, then Bolt Street, McIntosh street and then to Staples Street.

Driving slowly and watching houses on both sides became a routine of the day. No matter what, not a single property matched with the sketch. This was just another confirmation that dreams are different from reality.

Suddenly a siren blared indignantly behind her. Riya gave way thinking it an ambulance. She continued to drive, the blazing siren car also remained behind, not overtaking her vehicle. After a while, she realised it was a police car. She pulled up to the curb side. A policewoman jumped out of the van and appeared near her front window signalling to lower the window glass. Riya glanced at her with a smile mixed with surprise. What have I done wrong?

She didn’t have to ask for the explanation. You are driving dangerously slowly, the policewoman said and scanned inside the car, and you didn’t stop even though we are following you for almost a kilometre.

Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t notice. I mean I thought there must be an ambulance asking for the side. I was just looking for a house and was lost.

Can I see your driver’s license? The policewoman demanded.

Please wait in the car, I will be in a minute, she went to the police vehicle holding Riya’s driver’s license.

It was almost three in the afternoon. The policewoman came back and asked a volley of questions. Are you tired or have you taken any medication?

No, ma’am, no medications, just a bit tired, I think.

Look, your record is clean. We could have issued a ticket, but we will spare you this time. You are driving in a zigzag motion. This is dangerous. Take some rest before heading home. You have a long drive ahead.

Thanks, ma’am, Riya kept her driver’s license and started driving back to Sydney.

Returning home at around five in the evening, she laid flat on her sofa. There was no energy left for another round of expeditions on Sunday. The problem was she couldn’t even talk to someone about her journeys. Releasing the feeling to someone was important. To some friend who believes you and doesn’t give advice before asking.

Am I really running after a mirage? Should I stop this?

That night again the couple appeared in her dream, coming out of the same old house, with rose plants and frangipani tree. Riya called them, Hello, can you hear me? What are your names?

Both turned around and looked at her. But didn’t reply. The woman’s lips moved a little, but no sound came out. An old car appeared on the driveway. They sat on the car and drove away. Riya