I watched an aerial attack launched towards the roof of Nigeria’s Number One. The missile hit its target. At the time of the attack, the president was in the house of his neighbor. He attended to the need of his children. The president came out to access the damage done his roof. I saw no visible damage. The vision shifted.
I was into a town where on display were people’s auras loaded with rumors. In the north was a concentrated anger of the common man against those in authority. My sister called on phone and queried me thus, “We heard that the president was hit and that he is down in the polls.” I said thus, “That is not true. You heard rumors.
My friends and I were there when the attack occurred. The president stands to win the election.” My sister was relieved. We spoke with the president at length before he went back to the service of the children of his neighbor, Kabir (The Great). Ishmael’s senior did not make it out during the rescue. We reposed his soul at a healing centre where he’ll heal.
Ishmael, as the eldest amongst us, took the lead. I followed, Joseph was last. We came upon a barren land in a civilization of the past. We headed westward, and at a bend found the ground hewn. We descend into a fertile land with water high above our feet. I awoke.