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MidReal Story
Min drøm
Scenario:this is the year of 2019 in danish language in denmark a story about music and explicit nudity and bdsm and sexual content and drug and alcohol use and love and drama and violence and fame and tours and interviews and fans and my name is mohamed abdi and i am 18 years old and i am a new upcoming rapper and singer and i have dark skin and braids and i wear a black tracksuit and i have black braided cornrows and i just graduated from high school and i want to persue music but my dad his name is abdinur abdi and he has dark skin and he is 43 years old and my mother layla she is 41 years old and she has dark skin and my sister munira she is 15 years old and she has dark skin and she is in high school first year and she supports me and mahad is 16 years old and he supports me and he has dark skin and he is in high school and my parents are against me making music and doing music and we are a muslim somali family i am the main and central pov character and i am the narrator and this story
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Mohamed Abdi
passionate, and rebellious. Mohamed dreams of pursuing a music career despite his parents' disapproval. He faces opposition from his father, Abdinur, who wants him to focus on education and a traditional career path. Mohamed's siblings, Munira and Mahad, support his ambitions. He navigates the challenges of fame, relationships, and family expectations while staying true to himself.
Abdinur Abdi
conservative, and protective. Abdinur disapproves of Mohamed's desire to pursue music as a career and instead wants him to focus on education and a stable job. He struggles with the modern influences on his children but remains committed to their wellbeing. Abdinur's relationship with Mohamed is strained due to their differing values but he shows love through discipline.
Layla Abdi
supportive, and nurturing. Layla mediates between her husband Abdinur and their son Mohamed regarding his music ambitions. She encourages Mohamed's passion while trying to balance her husband's expectations with her own desire for her children's happiness. Layla provides emotional support to her family members during challenging times.
Hello everyone, my name is Mohamed Abdi.
I am 18 years old.
I am a new upcoming rapper and singer.
I have dark skin, braids, and I wear a black tracksuit.
I am from a muslim somali family in denmark.
My dad's name is Abdinur Abdi, he is 43 years old and has dark skin.
My mother's name is Layla Abdi, she is 41 years old and has dark skin.
My little sister's name is Munira Abdi, she is 15 years old and has dark skin.
She is in high school first year.
My little brother's name is Mahad Abdi, he is 16 years old and has dark skin.
He is in high school.
They are my siblings and they are the only ones that support me and my music dreams.
I just graduated from high school this summer, but I am not planning to attend further education because I want to make a full-time music career.
That is my biggest dream and I will do everything to make it real, even if I have to run away from home.
My parents are against me having a music career because they want me to have a traditional job and education.
But that is not the life I want for myself, I want to be something big so I can help my family and myself.
I walked into the Rosenhøj music studio in Viby, Aarhus.
The air was thick with tension as I walked through the crowded room.
There were a lot of dark-skinned men and boys, all eyeing me warily.
I walked up to the producer, who was sitting at the desk in the back of the room.
He looked up at me as I approached, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest.
"I'm here to make a song," I said.
"I want to be a rapper."
The producer raised an eyebrow.
"You think you can just walk in here and make a hit song?" he asked skeptically.
I stepped into the booth, my heart racing.
The producer handed me a pair of headphones and I put them on.
He cued up the beat and I started rapping.
My voice was steady and strong as I flowed over the beat, my words pouring out like a river.
I rapped about confidence, about being the best, about being unstoppable.
The producer watched me intently as I rapped, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
When I finished, he nodded at me.
"That was good," he said.
"What do you call that song?"
I smiled.
"I call it Ligesom Mig," I said.
The producer nodded, his eyes shining with excitement.
"Let's mix it," he said.
He sat down at the desk and started to mix the track, adjusting levels and adding effects.
After a few minutes, he played it back for me.
A smile spread across his face as he listened to the song.
"It's really good," he said.
"I can release it on your Spotify and Apple Music right now."
I nodded, my heart racing.
He uploaded the song to Spotify and Apple Music, and I watched over his shoulder as the streams started to climb.
The song was a hit, and soon it was getting millions of streams.
We checked the charts together, and I saw that it had reached number 40 on the Top 50 DK Rap playlist.
The producer pointed out that it was featured on New Music Friday.
As the track went platinum, he handed me a gleaming record with my name and song details etched on it.
I sat in the Rosenhøj studio, staring at the platinum record.
The producer walked up to me and handed me a check.
I took it, my hands trembling slightly.
The check was for 20,000 DKK, and it was from Spotify.
My heart raced as I looked at the number.
It was more money than I had ever seen before.
I felt a sense of pride and accomplishment wash over me as I looked at the check.
I had done it.
I had made a hit song, and now I was getting paid for it.
We talked about what to do next, and the producer suggested making a music video for "Ligesom Mig."
I agreed, and he started to plan out the details.
He asked if I wanted anyone else in the video, and I thought about it for a minute.
I decided to call Mahad and Munira, asking them if they wanted to be in the video with me.
They both agreed, and we set up a time to meet up at the studio. They arrived a few hours later, dressed in their own outfits.
Mahad wore a black hoodie and jeans, while Munira wore a pink sweater dress and sneakers.
We spent the next few hours filming around Aarhus, capturing scenes of me rapping on the streets and with my siblings.
The producer edited the footage together into a cohesive video, adding effects and transitions to make it look professional.
When he finished, he uploaded it to YouTube and we watched as the views started to climb.
As the sun set over Aarhus, I realized my dream was no longer just a dream.
I sat in the Rosenhøj studio, checking my phone.
A notification popped up on the screen.
Spotify and YouTube had just sent me an update.
"Ligesom Mig" had reached 4 million streams on Spotify, and the music video had gotten 2 million views on YouTube.
I showed the producer, who grinned at me.
"That's amazing," he said, patting me on the back.
"What do you want to do now?"
"I want to celebrate," I said.
He nodded.
"Let's go out and celebrate."
We left the studio, walking through the streets of Aarhus.
People started to recognize me from the song, stopping us to take selfies and ask for autographs.
I signed a hat for one of my fans, smiling for a photo with another.
As we walked, I saw a familiar face in the crowd.
It was Jonas, my old high school friend.
He came up to me, clapping me on the back.
"Congratulations," he said.
"You're really making it big."
I smiled at him.
"Thanks," I said.
We talked for a few minutes about old times and what we had been up to since graduation.
I told him about my song and the music video, and he congratulated me on my success.
Then I had to meet with Tan, Belly, and Dinero from the gangster rap group Shooter Gang.
They were known for their raw lyrics about murder, sex, and women.
I met them at a gritty warehouse on Aarhus's west side.
We talked about the single we were going to release together.
They wanted a song that would make the streets go crazy, something that would make people want to listen to their music.
Lamin nodded, gesturing for me to take a seat.
I walked into the bedroom, the bed already set up.
We sat in the dimly lit studio, headphones on, as we started to record our verses.
I was sitting in the studio with Lamin, watching as the streaming numbers for "Sikke en Type" climbed.
I put the luggage on the bed, unzipping it quickly.
I went first, my voice steady and strong as I rapped about the harsh realities of street life.
"So, what kind of song do you want to make?" he asked, sitting back down in his chair.
We were refreshing the page over and over again, waiting for the count to hit 9 million streams.
Then Belly came in, his flow gritty and raw.
I started to take out my clothes, folding and putting them in the wardrobe.
I thought for a moment before responding.
Lamin grinned, high-fiving me as we watched the song go double platinum.
Tan followed, his voice a low growl as he rapped about sex and women.
The bathroom was pristine, with a huge mirror and a massive shower.
"I was thinking we could do something about the things we see every day," I said.
We checked the charts, seeing that it had reached number 16 on the Top 50 DK Rap.
Finally, Dinero came in, his voice high and aggressive as he rapped about murder.
I walked back into the living room, looking out the window at the water below.
"Like beautiful women, parties, and sex."
Our phones started buzzing with notifications as the track landed on Spotify's DK Rap and New Music Friday Denmark playlists.
I had wanted to get away from Viby and start fresh on Aarhus Island.
We worked on the chorus together, adjusting the beat and lyrics until we were satisfied.
Lamin nodded, a smile spreading across his face.
We finalized the music video, uploading it to YouTube and other platforms.
The session stretched late into the night, but we were all focused on making the best song possible.
It would be easier to focus on my music without all of the distractions of my family's house.
"That sounds like a hit," he said.
It quickly appeared on billboards all over Denmark.
I had just gotten back to Aarhus from a three-hour drive from Copenhagen.
I parked my car in the garage and locked it, walking out into the cool night air.
I had just arrived at my penthouse apartment in Aarhus, my footsteps echoing off the walls of the empty hallway.
As I walked through the penthouse, I couldn't help but think about how far I had come.
I got into the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor.
It was a long way from where I started.
I stepped out of the elevator, looking down the long hallway.
I had done it all on my own, without any help from my parents or anyone else.
The penthouse was huge, with big windows that looked out over the city.
I unlocked the door and walked in, locking it behind me. I needed some time to myself, away from everyone else.
I turned on the TV, sinking into the comfortable couch.
I flipped through the channels, stopping on a show called "Dexter."
I had never seen it before, but it looked interesting.
I sat back and watched as the show started.
The main character, Dexter Morgan, was a serial killer who only killed bad people.
He was also a blood analyst for the police, which made it easy for him to cover his tracks.
As I watched, I couldn't help but think about how his life was similar to mine.
He had to balance his dark desires with his normal life.
I was trying to balance my music career with my family's expectations.
I woke up at 9 am, the sound of heavy rain pounding against the windows.
I looked out at the gray sky, deciding to stay in for the day.
I lounged on the couch, thinking about how far I had come.
I sat on the couch, scrolling through TikTok and Instagram on my phone.
Videos of kids, teenagers, and young adults dancing to "Ligesom Mig" flooded my feed.
The energy and enthusiasm of the dancers fueled my determination to keep pushing forward.
It was time to perform live.
I grabbed my phone and dialed the number for the Train concert venue in Aarhus.
I wanted to book a show for myself.
The manager answered, surprised by my sudden popularity.
He agreed to let me perform, and I hung up, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.
I arrived at the Train concert venue at 6 pm, two hours before my show.
The backstage area was buzzing with activity as I set up my equipment and ran through my setlist.
Mahad and Munira were there to help me, their encouragement boosting my confidence.
I could hear the crowd starting to fill in, their chatter and laughter echoing through the walls.
I peeked out into the audience, seeing a sea of eager faces waiting for me to take the stage.
A few of them were talking about "Ligesom Mig," their excitement building as they waited for the show to start.
As the clock ticked closer to 8 pm, I took deep breaths to calm my nerves.
The stage manager came over, giving me a thumbs up as he gestured for me to take the stage.
I turned to Mahad and Munira, my heart pounding with anticipation.
"Are you ready for this?" Mahad asked, his eyes shining with excitement.
Munira grinned, giving me a reassuring nod. "We've got your back, Mohamed. Let's show them what you're made of."
I gripped the microphone tightly, feeling a surge of determination.
I took a deep breath, stepping out onto the stage.
The crowd's murmur grew louder as I walked into the spotlight.
The energy was palpable as I stood there, my voice echoing through the venue.
I nodded to the DJ, and the beat of "Ligesom Mig" started.
I began to rap, my words flowing effortlessly as I scanned the crowd.
Mahad and Munira were cheering from the side, their faces filled with pride.
I moved across the stage, feeding off the crowd's energy.
I was determined to make this performance unforgettable.
As the song ended, the crowd erupted into applause, and I stepped back, catching my breath.
Mahad rushed over, his face beaming. "You killed it out there, Mohamed! Did you see how they reacted?"
Munira joined us, her eyes wide with excitement. "And did you hear what they were chanting? They want an encore!"
I nodded, my nerves replaced by a rush of adrenaline.
I gave the DJ a nod, and the familiar beat of "Sikke en Type" pulsed through the speakers.
The crowd's energy surged again as I stepped back into the spotlight.
My voice cut through the air, sharp and confident.
The crowd responded with renewed intensity, their hands in the air as they swayed to the rhythm.
Mahad and Munira danced at the side, their infectious enthusiasm fueling my performance.
I lost myself in the music, each verse flowing seamlessly into the next.
As the final note faded, I raised my arms triumphantly, locking eyes with Mahad and Munira.
The crowd's cheers reverberated through the venue, a testament to the power of music and the magic of the moment.
Breathless and exhilarated, I stood in the spotlight, basking in the energy of the audience.
The echoes of their applause fueled my dreams, and I knew that this was just the beginning.
The final note of "Sikke en Type" faded away, leaving only the thunderous applause echoing through the venue.
I stood in the spotlight, my chest heaving with exertion and excitement.
The crowd's energy pulsed around me, a palpable force that electrified the air.
Mahad and Munira rushed over, their faces flushed with excitement.
"You killed it out there!" Mahad exclaimed, clapping me on the back. Munira nodded vigorously, her eyes shining with pride.
I gave them both a grin, still catching my breath.
"Thank you, everyone! We'll be back soon!"
I shouted into the microphone, my voice carrying above the din of applause.
With a final wave, I walked offstage, Mahad and Munira flanking me like a triumphant procession.
The rush of adrenaline still coursed through my veins as we made our way to the manager's office.
The crowd's energy lingered, fueling my confidence.
I had done it—I had performed live, and it was a success.
As we entered the manager's office, he greeted us with a smile and a nod of approval.
"Great show tonight," he said, extending an envelope towards me.
I took it, feeling the weight of its contents.
"Here's your payment for tonight. 10,000 kroner."
I nodded my gratitude, feeling a surge of accomplishment wash over me.
"Thank you," I replied, tucking the envelope into my pocket.
With a final nod, we left the office, stepping back into the cool night air.
The venue's neon lights cast a colorful glow over the surrounding streets.
We walked in silence, the excitement of the performance still resonating within us.
Back at home, I settled into my room, the familiar surroundings providing a sense of comfort after the rush of the show.
I sat at my desk, opening my laptop to access my bank account online. The envelope containing 10,000 kroner lay beside me, its contents waiting to be added to my growing fortune.
I typed in my login details and password, navigating to the page that displayed my account balance.
The current amount stared back at me: 40,000 kroner.
A smile spread across my face as I clicked on the "deposit" button and entered the details of the envelope's contents.
The transaction was swift and secure, and soon enough, I refreshed the page to see the updated balance: 50,000 kroner.
A sense of pride swelled within me as I gazed at the screen.
Mahad and Munira hovered nearby, their eyes fixed on the laptop display as they too absorbed the magnitude of this milestone.
With a satisfied smile, I closed the laptop lid and stood up from my desk chair.
Mahad and Munira looked up at me expectantly, their faces mirroring my own excitement.
I raised one hand high in a gesture of celebration, and they mirrored it with their own hands.
