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MidReal Story
Singing In My Sleep
Scenario:this story is in the year of 2017 a story in los angeles a story about high school and college and fame and sex and rumors and scandals and nudity and drama and fights and music and abandonment and love and friendships and second family and betrayal and streaming and A talented teenage songwriter grapples with the overwhelming legacy of her late mothers 's music as the 20th anniversary of her debut album approaches, compelling her to confront her past abandonment and its impact on my life. and my name is mohamed abdi and i am 17 years old and i have abs and muscles and dark skin and i can play instruments and i can sing really well and write songs and make and produce music and i stream from my computer playing my original and cover songs and my mother is the 36 year old late legend pop star rachel abdi with light skin and medium short blonde hair and blue eyes and her second family with a 43 years oldlight skin white husband named henry and a 12 years old daughter named chloe abdi and my father abdinur abdi and he has dark skin and he has been there for me always and he is 40 years old and this story is named singing in my sleep
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Mohamed Abdi
He is a 17yearold high school student in Los Angeles. He is creative, introspective, and resilient. Mohamed discovers his late mother's secret second family and struggles with identity. He forms a close bond with his father, Abdinur, who has supported him throughout his life. Mohamed also befriends his classmate Emily and musician Julian. He navigates the challenges of high school while pursuing his passion for music, inspired by his mother's legacy.
Abdinur Abdi
He is Mohamed's father and a former soldier. He is caring, dedicated, and protective. Abdinur has raised Mohamed on his own, providing for his physical and emotional needs. Despite not being present in Mohamed's life until later, he builds a strong relationship with his son after moving to Los Angeles. Abdinur supports Mohamed's musical ambitions and becomes a guiding figure as he navigates adolescence.
Emily
She is Mohamed's classmate and friend. She is loyal, curious, and supportive. Emily helps Mohamed navigate high school dynamics by filling him in on social gossip and offering him advice. Despite their differences, she provides Mohamed with a sense of normalcy and companionship amidst the chaos of adolescence and the revelation of his mother's secret life.
Los Angeles, 2017
My name is Mohamed Abdi.
I am seventeen years old, in my last year of high school, and I have just discovered my mother’s secret second family.
I have dark skin, abs, muscles, and I can play instruments, sing really well, write songs, make music, produce it, and stream from my computer where I play my original and cover songs.
I have been doing this for a year now and have built a small fan base of around five hundred regular viewers.
I don’t advertise my streams on social media; I just post when I am going live on Discord, but word of mouth has spread the news about the talented teenage musician who sings in his sleep sometimes.
The nickname reminds me of my mother, Rachel Abdi—the late pop star who died when I was six years old.
She was a legend—a talented singer-songwriter with an incredible voice and a beautiful heart.
Her debut album was released twenty years ago when she was eighteen years old—exactly the age I will be in a few months.
Rachel was only thirty-six when she died.
She had medium-length blonde hair, light skin, blue eyes—and she was gorgeous beyond words.
In my bedroom, which also doubles as a music studio, I sit at my keyboard and start the stream.
"Hello, everyone," I say into the camera.
"Tonight, I will be playing my original song, ‘Delicate.’"
I start playing the keys, and my fingers dance across them as I begin to sing.
I have been singing this song for a year now, but it still gives me goosebumps every time.
The song ends, and I thank my audience for their donations.
"I love you all so much," I say before turning off the camera and shutting down my studio gear.
Each donation notification chimes through the computer speakers.
I hope to save enough money to attend the Los Angeles College of Music next year.
I end the stream and check the donations.
$87.
Not bad.
I scroll through other streams, and one catches my attention.
The guy is singing my mother’s song "I Can't Now" to 14,000 viewers.
I click on his stream, and he is really good.
The donations are pouring in, and I feel a pang of jealousy.
He is making more money than me in a few minutes.
He ends the song, and I exit his stream.
I shut down my computer and go downstairs to join my father for dinner.
"Hey, Dad," I say as I sit at the table across from him.
"Hey, son," he replies with a smile.
"How was your stream?"
"It was okay," I say as I start eating my food.
"I saw a guy singing Mom’s song to 14,000 people. He made so much money."
"You will get there too," Dad says reassuringly.
"I hope so," I say as I continue eating.
"So, what’s new with you?"
Dad takes a sip of his wine before answering.
"Well, there is something I want to talk to you about."
"What is it?"
I ask.
"Next year, it will be twenty years since your mother released her debut album," he says.
"So, we are planning a concert to celebrate her music."
I stop eating and look at him in shock.
"Are you serious?"
I ask.
"Yes," he replies calmly.
"And I want you to perform at the concert."
I put my fork down and stare at him.
"I don’t think so," I say angrily.
"You know how I feel about her."
Dad sighs and takes another sip of his wine.
"Come on, son. Just listen to me," he says.
"She left me when I was six years old. She never came back. I don’t even remember what she looks like anymore. And now you want me to perform at a concert for her? Fuck that!"
I exclaim, cursing loudly.
Dad looks at me calmly and says, "Relax, Mohamed. Let’s just finish dinner first."
We continue eating in silence for a few minutes.
I stab my food with my fork and shove it into my mouth angrily.
Dad watches me carefully, concern etched on his face.
After a few minutes of silence, Dad tries to change the subject by asking me about school and music. "How’s school going?" he asks.
"It’s fine," I reply curtly.
"And how’s your music going?"
"It’s okay," I say again, still feeling upset about the concert idea.
"Well, if you ever need any help or advice, just let me know," Dad says kindly.
"Thanks, Dad," I respond politely, but my mind is still racing with thoughts about the concert and my mother.
We finish our meal in silence, and then I clear the table while Dad goes to watch TV in the living room.
At the music store, I organize sheet music while venting to Annie about the tribute concert.
Annie leans against the counter, her graying hair pulled back, and tells me how Rachel used to shop here before her career took off.
I slam a stack of papers down harder than intended.
Annie flinches but continues defending my mother's attempts to stay connected.
Maria bounces in wearing her usual crop top and ripped jeans, breaking the tension with jokes about difficult customers.
I clock out early, my hands still shaking from discussing Rachel.
Annie watches us leave with concern in her eyes. "So, you know how I told you that Rachel used to come here before she became famous?"
Annie asks as she leans against the counter.
I nod and continue organizing sheet music on the shelves.
"Well, she used to come here every day," she continues.
"She would always buy a new song or instrument."
"Really?"
I ask as I put down a stack of papers a bit harder than necessary.
The sound echoes through the room, and Annie flinches slightly.
"Yeah," she replies calmly.
"And then one day, she just stopped coming."
"Maybe she got busy," I suggest as I continue organizing the sheets of music on the shelves.
"Or maybe she just didn’t need anything else," Annie says with a shrug.
I sigh and put down another stack of papers, this time a bit more gently.
"I guess you’re right," I say as I lean against the counter next to Annie.
"I just wish I could have met her," she says wistfully. "Yeah," I reply softly as I look at the floor.
"I wish I could have met her too."
The door chimes as someone enters the store, breaking the silence between us.
I turn to see Maria bouncing in wearing her usual crop top and ripped jeans.
"Hey guys!" she says brightly as she approaches us at the counter.
"Hey Maria," Annie greets her warmly.
"How was your day?"
"It was good," Maria replies with a smile as she leans against the counter next to me.
"I had a few difficult customers, but nothing too bad."
"Ugh, don’t even get me started on difficult customers," Annie says with a roll of her eyes.
"They can be so frustrating sometimes."
It’s late at night, and I find Dad in the living room, slumped on the couch with a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand.
He’s rambling about famous musicians who dropped out of school to pursue their dreams.
I try to leave, but he calls me back, saying he wants to talk about Mom.
I sit down next to him, and he starts talking about how Mom didn’t need a degree to be successful.
I interrupt him, pointing out that she didn’t even finish high school.
He defends her, saying she was smart and talented, and that her platinum albums are proof of her success.
I snap at him, asking if he really thinks those albums make up for the fact that she abandoned me.
The room feels suffocating as I confront him about how she never sent me birthday cards or presents after I turned six.
Dad looks at me with glazed eyes, his voice slurring as he insists that he gave me all the time and attention I needed.