Thursday, March 5, 2015


I believe in God, and everything I stand for, God is the only reason I stand in the first place.”
This is why I have decided to have things written, typed and visualized.
I have always been fascinated with dreams, and sometimes I wonder where fiction ends and fact comes into play.
When I was 5 years old, I had recurring dreams about a particular street not too far from where I lived.  In the dreams, my father and I were in his Peugeot 505 driving on this particular street not too far from where I lived.  At first there was not a lot of detail, but each time I had the dream, a little more unfolded.
The first time I had this dream, I dreamt we drove into the street not too far from where I lived, and out of nowhere a multitude of people holding guns and cutlasses came out onto the street. That was where the first dream ended. To me that dream meant there was a street close to where I lived that I was never to drive into.
Days passed and then I had the dream again. This time, right after the men with guns and cutlasses came, my father and I escaped from the car and hid behind it when the crazed gunmen began to play with their metal toys. This was where the dream ended. I remember waking up scared, I ran to my mother and said “Mommy, I had a bad dream, but I cannot remember all of it.” She told me to pray and said all will be well. I did not pray.
On a particular night, I went to bed and had the dream again. While I was asleep I became aware that I was indeed having a dream I had dreamt before. That night, in the dream, I remember running away from the car in such a way that the car served as a shield from the crazed gunmen. I ran for a while and jumped into the gutter by the side of the road, a Nollywood movie with the main actor diving into a gutter when thieves were chasing him was popular at that time. Just as I jumped, I felt like I was falling from a great height, only for me to land on my bed and I was awake and scared but I was not alone. My mother was close to me and her facial expression was that of someone who was worried, like something horrible had just happened. Suddenly I heard the voices of strange men in my father’s bedroom so I got off my bed and rushed to meet my father, only to see some gunmen beating him up. With the bravado only little boys could possess, I ran right into the room and hit one of the men so brutally beating my father up. All the men froze for a second, mostly out of shock, but my mind interpreted it as my strength and willpower working. After about 15 seconds of stunned silence they leave my father and one of the men lifted me up and laughs right in my face and holds a gun to my head asking how brave I feel now. My mother ran in, fell on her knees begging the man not to hurt me. The other men pointed guns at my father. A man I presumed to be their Leader walked up to father. There was something odd about him. He had an accent. It was the first time I ever heard people speak pidgin english.  He asked my parents tell him where they kept the car keys and the money in the house,
Being held by my leg upside down, I screamed with the last ounce of bravery left in me I screamed “Angel Michael will protect me”.
Within a few moments, sound of sirens reached our ears and I was dropped to the ground. The men grabbed as much as they could while trying to escape the police and vigilante group who were now present on the street where I lived.
After a few months, some men were arrested on a particular street not too far from where I lived, they were said to be thieves.  I have since then paid particular attention to my dreams, my imagination and my thoughts. Sometimes my dreams, imagination and thoughts take me on a journey of consciousness, I think about many things, concepts, both simple and complex. All of this and more are the reasons I organised this little charade for the long weekend.

- Akorede


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