He suddenly woke up, shaking like a leaf. In the little light coming in through the window, he looked around the room. The room seemed very unfamiliar. This was not the room that he usually slept in. It added to the craziness of the dream that had jolted him out of a sleepful state.

Mohit had dreamt about a car crashing over the edge, going off one of the twisting-turning roads in the Western Ghats, somewhere in Maharashtra. He had seen it very clearly. In the dwindling evening light, a maroon car was toppling down a ravine. He could not see who was inside the vehicle, but he could hear a man’s screams, as the car took the man down to what seemed would be a fatal fall. At the top of the hill, another car, that was until now parked by the side of the road, drove away towards the junction where it could get on to the expressway.
And then, in a flash, Mohit saw inside the car, which was now lying on its side, on the floor of the valley. The shock of seeing his own face on a corpse had woken him.

He was now in a decently sized bedroom. He could not remember how or when he got there. There was some other furniture in the room. There were two closed doors. He walked in the dark, towards the smaller door, at the opposite end from where the bed was. When he opened it, he could make out, in the faint light, that it was a bathroom. He fumbled on the wall for a light switch.

When the light came on, he glanced at the mirror, more out of an habit formed over the last 30 years. What he saw in the mirror almost had him fall back against the wall. 
The face staring back at him was not his !!!

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