Like a sweet dream, but real.

Annotation

“Like a Sweet Dream, But Real” is a warm story about faith, love, and family. Follow Nastya from a rainy childhood and her first prayers, through the shy beginning of love and a wedding blessed by both families, to the quiet daily miracles of a shared home — children, grandchildren, hard days and bright ones.

Each short chapter is a small moment of life, written with gratitude and hope. A gentle book for evenings of reflection, for readers who believe that ordinary days, lived with kindness and trust in God, can become a dream come true.

About the Author

Rezvan Kastoev writes warm stories about family, faith, and love. This book was created with the help of artificial intelligence tools.

Acknowledgments

I thank God for inspiration, life, and the opportunity to share bright stories about family, faith, and love.

Special thanks to my parents, my family, relatives, and loved ones for their wise advice, support, and the warmth that helps me continue on the creative path.

All characters in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

Preface

Life is an amazing journey, full of joy, trials, and miracles.

In this book, I want to share a story that is like a sweet dream, yet reflects the reality of love, family, and faith.

Each chapter is a separate moment, a small story filled with warmth, care, and gratitude to God for every day lived.

May this story inspire good deeds, strengthen faith, and give a sense of harmony, warmth, and happiness.

Chapter 1. The Girl in the Rain

Through the gray clouds, heavy and low, raindrops fell onto the narrow streets of the city. The girl walked along the wet sidewalk, holding onto the edge of a bright blue umbrella that barely protected her from soaked hair and a wet back. She loved the rain — there was something mysterious and at the same time calming about it. Each drop seemed like a small story, a tiny miracle that could be caught with hands and felt with the heart.

Her name was Anastasia, and she was only ten years old. She was wearing her mother’s slightly stretched sweater, which smelled of fresh laundry and a hint of vanilla, like home comfort. Under her feet splashed an old boot, rusty in places. Her hair, dark like wet earth, stuck to her cheeks, and her eyes shone with curiosity and an inner joy that did not depend on the weather.

She walked past the old park, where the trees stood like silent guardians. Branches covered with droplets trembled softly, and the leaves struggled to hold the streams of rain, as if collecting precious pearls. Nastya stopped on a small bridge over a little stream. The water bubbled and murmured, reflecting the gray sky and rare flashes of sunlight breaking through the clouds. The girl leaned down and touched the cold water with her hand. She marveled at how simple everything around could be alive: the stream was alive, the leaves were alive, the rain was alive. And in this feeling, her small faith was born — faith that the world is full of miracles, even if they are not immediately visible.

As a child, Nastya often dreamed. She imagined that one day she would become someone important — not for fame, but to help people and be needed by those around her. She imagined having a big house with south-facing windows where the sun always shone, and on the table there would be fresh tea and fragrant buns. These dreams warmed her even on rainy days, when wet boots felt heavy and her hands were cold.

That day, standing on the bridge and watching the stream, Nastya felt for the first time a quiet desire to speak to someone who could not be seen but was always nearby. She closed her eyes, and a simple prayer was born in her heart:

“Let my future be bright. Let me be able to do good. Let there be true friends and love beside me…”

Her voice was barely audible, but it did not matter — the words fell straight into her heart, to the place where the most sincere hopes are hidden.

The girl returned home soaked to the skin, but with a smile on her face. When her mother saw Nastya, she shook her head with mild disapproval, then laughed and hugged her.

“You’re soaked to the bone again,” she said, wiping her daughter’s hair with a towel.

And Nastya quietly replied, “Yes… but today the rain was somehow special.”

That night, Nastya sat by the window of her room for a long time, watching the drops sliding down the glass, and thought about how huge, amazing, and full of miracles the world was. Her little soul filled with gratitude for being alive, for being able to breathe, dream, love, and believe. Even in the simplest moments — like a walk in the rain — she found happiness and confidence that everything she loved and everything she expected from life would surely come true.

Thus began her story — the story of a girl with great faith, small dreams, and an open heart that knew how to see miracles in the most ordinary things.

Chapter 2. Her Parents’ Family Home

The house in which Nastya grew up stood at the edge of a small street, surrounded by a garden where apple and cherry trees seemed to reach toward the sun. The street itself was quiet: sometimes cars passed by, sometimes the laughter of neighborhood children could be heard, but overall, an extraordinary calm reigned there. The house was low, with yellow plaster, slightly cracked in places, but with windows that radiated warmth and coziness.

Nastya especially loved entering this house after the rain. When she opened the door, the aroma of freshly baked bread mixed with the scent of soapy water that her mother had just used to wash the floor. Sometimes, when the air outside smelled of rain, the air inside became even warmer, as if the house itself cared that no one felt cold or tired.

Nastya’s family was small, but very warm. Her mother, with a gentle voice and bright eyes, always found time to smile at her daughter, cook something delicious, or simply talk about the day. Her father, tall and slightly strict but with kind hands, knew how to amaze Nastya with stories about his childhood adventures, about how he dreamed, and what it meant to live honestly. Nastya loved sitting by the fireplace, listening to his stories, and imagining that one day her own childhood stories would become just as valuable to someone else.

In the kitchen there was always a large table with a carved tablecloth that smelled of bay leaf and freshness. Family breakfasts, lunches, and dinners took place here. Photographs hung on the wall: Mom and Dad when they were young, Nastya with her grandmother, and Nastya’s own first steps — she was an only child, yet the house always felt full of love. Each photograph held a moment that would never repeat, but would always warm the soul.

Nastya especially loved the evening hours, when the sun set behind the windows and the soft light of the lamp shimmered on the walls. At such moments, her mother often sat beside her, and they would sit in silence together, watching the rain fall outside or listening to the crackling of logs in the fireplace.

“Everything is fine,” her mother would say quietly. “We are together, and that is enough.”

Nastya remembered these words like a prayer, because they carried the feeling of safety and love that gave her strength to believe in the future.

The garden around the house was her secret corner. In summer, roses and lilacs bloomed there; in autumn, maple leaves turned red; and in winter, snow covered everything with a soft white blanket. Nastya loved stepping onto the porch with a mug of warm cocoa, wrapping her hands around it, and watching the wind play with the leaves while clouds slowly drifted across the sky. Every sound and every scent was like music: the rustle of leaves, raindrops, the smell of wet earth — all of it formed the symphony of her childhood.

Evenings in this house were never lonely. Her mother cooked dinner, her father checked Nastya’s notebooks, sometimes they laughed together, read books aloud, or discussed the events of the day. And even when Nastya was tired, it seemed to her that the house itself was breathing with her — cozy, calm, reliable. Here, in this small corner of the world, she learned to feel love, care, and the joy of simple things.

And it was in this house that Nastya first began to believe that life could be a true miracle. Not a miracle that suddenly comes and changes everything at once, but a quiet, gradual one — like rain that fills the earth with moisture and life. Here she first understood that dreams do not have to be big and loud — it is important to believe that they can come true if the heart is pure and the hands are ready to work.

Her parents’ house was more than just walls and a roof. It was the place where faith began, where first hopes were born, where every corner was filled with stories and care. And Nastya knew: wherever life might take her, this house would always remain a part of her soul, her safety, and her inspiration.

Chapter 3. The First Prayer for Her Future

Nastya sat on the windowsill of her room. Evening was slowly descending on the city, and the soft orange light of streetlamps filtered through the curtains, painting the room in warm shades. In her hands was a small notebook with a colorful cover, where she sometimes wrote down her thoughts, dreams, and questions she did not dare to say out loud. Today, Nastya felt that the time had come to speak with someone who could not be seen with the eyes, but who was always nearby — with God.

She folded her hands on her knees, closed her eyes, and let her thoughts flow freely. Her heart beat faster than usual — from excitement, from hope, from the feeling that something important was happening.

“I want… I want to be kind, I want to help people, I want those who love me to be close,” she whispered to herself, and then quietly, almost aloud, she spoke the first words of her prayer:

“Lord, help me find my path. Teach me to love, to be honest and faithful. Let my heart always know what is right.”

Nastya did not understand how deep the power of these words was. For her, it was just a quiet request, but in her soul she felt a strange warmth, as if someone was truly listening to her and nodding in response. For the first time, she realized that one could not only dream, but also ask for help in fulfilling those dreams.

After the prayer, Nastya opened her eyes and looked around the room. Books with bright illustrations stood on the shelves, soft toys occupied their place on the chair, and outside the window the lights of neighboring houses were slowly turning on. Everything around seemed ordinary, but something had changed in the girl’s heart: for the first time, she felt that her dreams and prayers could be connected, that there was a force helping her move through life without losing hope and joy.

In the evening, her mother peeked into the room, smiled, and sat down beside her.

“You seem especially thoughtful today,” she said.

Nastya nodded without revealing the secret of her inner conversation, but she felt that her mother understood her without words. Sometimes true closeness requires no explanations — a glance, a smile, a touch of a hand is enough.

The next morning, Nastya woke up with a feeling of lightness. She knew the day would be filled with discoveries, that every moment was a small opportunity to see a miracle. At school, she did her usual lessons, played with friends during recess, but from time to time her gaze involuntarily turned to the sky, to the clouds, as if checking whether someone could hear her again.

In the evening, before going to bed, Nastya sat on the windowsill once more. She looked at the city lights, at the dark silhouettes of houses and trees, and quietly repeated her prayer. But now the words were more confident, calmer, as if her heart already understood: the world is full of kindness, and her own life was just beginning. She whispered,

“Let everything be well… let everything be as You have planned, Lord.”

And in this silence, in this soft light, Nastya felt for the first time that her small faith was the beginning of something great.

That evening became special. Nastya realized for the first time that prayer is not just words, but a bridge between her heart and the whole world. That one can ask, dream, and hope — and that all these small steps are like seeds that one day will turn into strong trees.

From that moment on, Nastya knew: wherever life might take her, she would always be able to return to these quiet conversations, to these moments when the heart is open and the soul is filled with gratitude and hope.

Chapter 4. Teenage Joy and Faith

Time flew by quickly, and Nastya was already a teenager. Her childlike spontaneity gradually gave way to a deeper understanding of the world, but in her soul lived the same joy she had felt under the rain as a child. Now her steps were more confident, and her gaze more observant: she knew how to notice details that once seemed unimportant — sunbeams on the wall, a friend’s laughter, the faint scent of lilac after the rain.

Teenage life brought new emotions. At school, Nastya studied well, but her joy did not depend on grades. She loved moments when she could laugh with friends until tears came, discuss books and films, argue about what was right and what was not. Each day was a small adventure, filled with discovering herself and the world around her.

During this time, her faith became more conscious. Nastya no longer just whispered her requests before sleep — she learned to see God’s presence in every day. When it rained, she understood that it was not just water from the sky, but a reminder that the world is alive and kind. When she saw the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm, Nastya felt gratitude for every new day, for the opportunity to exist and to create.

Especially meaningful were the morning prayers before school. She would wake up a little earlier, light a small candle on the windowsill, and quietly say,

“Help me be kind, help me understand others, teach me to value friends and family.”

Sometimes her mother joined her, and these shared moments became a real ritual that gave strength for the entire day.

Teenage joys were not without first worries and dreams of the future. Nastya often walked through the garden, talking to herself, or wrote down her thoughts in a notebook. She dreamed of friends she could call true, of having loved ones nearby, of her faith becoming not just a habit, but a real inner strength. And sometimes, in the silence, she felt that someone heard her, someone cared and guided her, even if it could not be seen with the eyes.

One of the brightest moments of that time was her first conscious successes. Nastya felt for the first time that her efforts were bearing fruit: a well-read role at a school celebration, a beautifully completed art project, helping a friend who needed advice. And every time joy flared up in her heart, she quietly thanked God, understanding that happiness is not an accident, but the result of kind thoughts and actions.

At times, Nastya simply sat on the swing in the garden, watched the slowly disappearing sun, and thought about how much beauty still lay ahead. Teenage life taught her attentiveness, patience, and the ability to rejoice in simple moments. She already knew: faith and joy do not always come with bright events — sometimes they reveal themselves in small, almost unnoticed things: in a friend’s laughter, in the aroma of bread from the kitchen, in a quiet conversation with her mother at sunset.

And it was then that Nastya first felt that her faith was becoming a part of herself, like breathing or the rhythm of her heart. She knew that new trials, new meetings, and discoveries lay ahead, but her heart was already ready to meet life with joy — to love and believe, to value and dream. Teenage Nastya learned to find light even in ordinary days, and that light gradually became her inner strength — quiet, steady, and reliable.

Chapter 5. The First Meeting with Him

It was an ordinary spring day: the city was filled with the scent of fresh grass and newly blossomed flowers. Nastya walked along the park alley, holding a book she had recently finished reading. A light breeze stirred her hair, and the sun played with reflections on the pages. She felt a rare harmony — the world seemed calm and ready for small miracles.

And suddenly she noticed him.

He was sitting on a bench under an old linden tree, drawing something in a notebook with a pencil. His movements were confident and focused, and his gaze was surprisingly gentle. Nastya felt her heart beat a little faster, although she did not even know why. There was something in his calmness, in the way he was immersed in his work, that drew her attention.

She walked past, but could not resist glancing over his shoulder. On the pages were sketches of trees, flowers, perhaps the very alley she had just walked along. Every line seemed alive, filled with attention to detail.

“How beautiful…” Nastya thought and smiled quietly.

He raised his eyes, noticed her glance, and nodded slightly, a bit shyly. In that moment, Nastya realized that for the first time she felt the presence of someone who could change her life, even though they had not exchanged a single word. He smiled too — a light smile that could warm even a cold day. Nastya hurried on, but the feeling of gentle excitement did not leave her.

In the evening, returning home, she thought about him. Nastya caught every tiny memory — his look, the way he drew, the light smile that accidentally touched her soul. She did not understand that this was the beginning of something important, but her heart already knew: the world had become a little wider, a bit warmer, and brighter.

The next day, Nastya came to the park again. He was sitting there, on the same bench, drawing once more. Gathering her courage, Nastya decided to speak.

“You draw very well,” she said quietly.

He looked at her, surprised, but smiled.

“Thank you… Do you like drawing?”

Nastya nodded.

“I’m Riz,” he said, closing his notebook a little shyly. “What’s your name?”

“Nastya,” she answered, and the name suddenly sounded softer in the quiet park.

Thus began their first conversation — short, a little awkward, but filled with sincere interest.

In the following days, they began to notice each other more often. Sometimes their eyes met at school, sometimes they ran into each other by chance in the park. Every moment was a small discovery: laughter, an accidental touch of the hand, and shared discussions of books or films. Everything felt light and natural, as if the Universe itself was quietly whispering that these paths were meant to cross.

Nastya felt an amazing joy that came not from loud events, but from simple moments: from exchanged glances, from softly spoken words, from watching clouds together, the sun, the world that had suddenly become brighter. She realized that love can begin with the quiet presence of another person, with attention to details, with small moments that gradually form into something greater.

And it was during those days that Nastya first felt that the prayers she had spoken in childhood and adolescence were beginning to come true — not all at once, not in the form of a grand miracle, but through quiet meetings, smiles, and the care of people who appear nearby. Her heart filled with gratitude and trembling at the same time.

For the first time, Nastya felt that life was ready to open new horizons before her. She did not yet know where this path would lead, but she was certain: every step, every meeting, every glance mattered. And at that moment, Nastya understood: true joy comes when the heart is open and ready to accept miracles — even the smallest ones, even those that appear in a park under the spring sun.

Chapter 6. Awkward Conversations and the Joy of New Feelings

Nastya walked along the park alley, feeling a light excitement. Today they met again — he was sitting on the same bench, a notebook resting on his knees. It felt as though the whole world had focused on this single moment. She tried to think of what to say, but for some reason the words slipped away from her mind.

“Hi…” she began, slightly stumbling over the words.

“Hi,” he replied, smiling in a way that made Nastya feel her heart skip a beat. “You’re in the park again?”

“Yes… I just like walking here,” she said quietly, trying to look at the notebook rather than directly into his eyes. Inside, everything was bubbling — joy, shyness, a gentle trembling.

They were silent for a few seconds, listening to the rustle of leaves and the occasional footsteps of passersby. The silence was strange — a little awkward, yet at the same time cozy, as if the space between them had become a separate world.

“What are you drawing?” Nastya finally asked, gathering her courage.

“Trees… and a bit of the park,” he said, lifting the notebook to show her a page filled with precise, neat lines. “I like watching how the light falls on the leaves.”

Nastya nodded. Her eyes lit up. She too loved noticing such little things: the play of light, raindrops, the quiet whisper of the wind. In that moment, she realized that they were comfortable together even without words.

Gradually, the conversation became easier. They talked about books, music, funny moments from school. Nastya laughed more often than usual, catching herself thinking that her laughter sounded louder, brighter than ever before. He joked gently, without any showiness, and that was his special strength — the ability to make an ordinary day feel special.

Every new word, every smile caused a small flutter in her heart. Nastya felt her heart slowly opening to these feelings — new, vivid, unfamiliar, and surprisingly warm. Even the awkwardness at the beginning of the conversation now seemed like part of the magic, because it was precisely what made the first steps toward friendship — and then toward something more.

When the sun began to set, they were still sitting on the bench, silently watching the sky turn golden. Nastya felt a soft breeze touch her cheek and thought how extraordinarily beautiful the world was in moments like this. He noticed her thoughtfulness and said quietly:

“You know… sometimes the most important things happen without words.”

Nastya smiled, because she understood it was true. The joy of their communication, the gentle excitement, and the quiet closeness were already saying more than any phrases could. For the first time, she felt that true feelings are not loud confessions or dramatic scenes, but small, quiet moments filled with attention, laughter, and mutual understanding.

As they said goodbye, Nastya walked home with a smile, and a feeling she had never known before rang softly in her soul. She realized that there are moments in life when everything becomes brighter, when the heart feels filled with light, and the world seems ready for a miracle. And the most amazing thing was that this miracle did not need to be searched for somewhere far away — it was already nearby, in simple glances, first conversations, and a light, almost invisible thread connecting two hearts.

From that day on, Nastya waited for new meetings with excitement and joy. Every moment together was precious, and the awkwardness of their first conversations now felt sweet and familiar. She did not yet know that love awaited them — a love that would change her entire life — but she already felt its first glimmers: quiet, gentle, and wonderfully warm.

Chapter 7. Their Walks and the Warm Rain

The day was soft and unusually warm for spring. Nastya and Riz met at the entrance to the park, where old linden trees with wide leaves grew, under which one could hide from the occasional raindrops. There was no rush, no worries — only the quiet joy of walking together along a path barely visible among the fresh greenery.

“Do you like the rain?” Nastya asked cautiously, glancing at the bright sky where light gray clouds were already gathering.