My eyes flipped open. I must have been dreaming, I thought. It seems so real, I can’t believe it. The beat of my heart is faster, I want to slow it down but I can’t. This isn’t right. My ears finds its way to the voice of the birds, I didn’t even realise it was morning already. My head is aching badly, the pressure from my dream filled it. This is the third time this week I am having the same dream. I cannot fathom the message the dream is trying to pass. I am not much of a religious person but from movies, I know this was the part I kneel down and mumble silent words to God. I go down on my kneels and my mouth utters the simplest words I can think about
“Dear God” I started, “I’m sorry if I have done so many wrong things. I know I don’t acknowledge you much but please whatever these dreams mean, I don’t want them again” I pause, search my heart to know if there is anything else I want to tell God, but nothing came. “Amen” I conclude what I called a prayer. “I don’t even know how to pray.” I sigh.
I grab my toothbrush from my bedside table and stand up from the bed, I walk sluggishly to the bathroom. My legs hit an instant paused for a moment “this doesn’t look like my bathroom. Am I in another dream or is my head just playing nasty games with me?” I close my eyes and open them, everything was back to normal. “I need to have my head checked. This nightmare is too much for my head to handle” I mumble.
“First of all, you cannot dictate how I will live my life, it’s my life not yours” I shut the door. I put on my music player and increase the volume to the highest.
I don’t like the arguments I always have with Sandra. Sandra is my only sister, in fact, the only sibling I have. Today is a saturday, I should go out and hang out with the few friends I have. I don’t know why she’s being overprotective of me. Sometimes I wished I had come out of my mum’s womb before her but as fate as it, she won me to that.
My bed becomes my companion. I am too scared to shut my eyes, its stare fixes so hard at the blue painted wall. I don’t want to think about all what I’ve been through.
“No its too much weight to carry”.
A small rat runs across the room, a smile flicks on my face. Sandra and I had set so many traps to capture the third-parties living with us but all to no avail. I wonder why I am even thinking of this rat, it is the least of my problems. Did I just say “least”? It is not even in my problem book at all. I smile again.
My thoughts diverts steadily back to where it was before the rat came in. I really don’t have where to go because Tony and Chucks my only friends are away this weekend. I don’t want to stay in my room either, it is like the dark place in my dream. I just want to go out and get some fresh air. Our neighbourhood is not a good one to socialise especially on saturdays. Just opposite our compound is a brothel, where girls of age ranging from 16 to 40 live, some guys sell drugs on the street and so many criminal activities go on in this area. My daily schedule for the past six years since we moved here was school, home, school. Chucks and Tony were my secondary school friends. Now, I’m out of secondary school, and basically have nothing to do. I’ve stayed at home for the past three years because of lack of funds to further my education. Sandra had recently helped me secure a job in an eatery but I have to start next month.
I sit on my bed, feeling guilty for the way I talked to my sweet big sister, I decide to apologise. I stand up from the bed and find my way to our tiny sitting room.
“Oh my God” my shout was louder than a normal shout.
Its Sandra, she’s lying helpless on the floor. I run towards her, check her pulse, she is still breathing. “Thank GOD” I carry her on my shoulders and dash out. Some guys are outside the compound, they start laughing at my arrival outside. They had raped my sister. I call the first cab I find. We arrive at the hospital, the doctors and nurses rushing fast at our rescue. Sandra is responding to treatment really fast. I regret this incident, and have a million combinations of what if. What if I had been more conscious of my dream, it wasn’t Sandra in the dream, it was an unknown girl, she was begging me not to leave her because her life was in danger, I left her because the room was too dark for me to stay in. What if, I didn’t turn my music so loud, I would have heard Sandra’s cry for help. What if, I just sat with my sister and gist with her, Sandra really loved to gist, but I wasn’t just in the mood for a gist. What if, what if, what if. No matter the combinations of what if I get to put together, it doesn’t still change anything. The tears rushing down my eyes as I sit by Sandra’s bed side watching her sleepy face.