Dream Stories – Black Jews

Dream Stories – Black Jews

I was into a football pitch in an Israeli suburb that has a large Palestinian population. There was peace in the region, which I watched one after the other while I stood in the centre of a football pitch. My focus turned towards a trainee and his coach. The trainee was African; the coach, Jewish. The black man looked sullen. Resentment weighed high in the field of their aura. The coach kicked the ball in a wide long shot that went out of the field. The trainee grudgingly ran, picked and tossed it back. When the coach shot the ball again, the trainee stood his ground. I went to him: “What’s the matter bro?” He said: “Go! Leave us alone! Do you know what these people think of us? Do you know what Arab/Israeli peace means? It means the end of a long strife and the beginning of the worst form of black tribulation. Man! They treat us like shit here. If they clinch that deal with their Arab cousins, they’ll turn us here slaves, as was done our brothers and sisters in the US. But let me tell you. We, here, unlike our people in the US will be hard to crush. They’ll be up against the toughest nut of the children of God. You heard me! Go now, leave us alone!” He somberly said and shifted his gaze to the ground. I looked at his brother, who stood and watched from the other side. His face turned red and glistened with sweat. I awoke.

I was into an Igbo shrine. The priest had summoned the spirits to make their presence known. There was a whirlwind. Fear showed on the faces of his worshipers. They danced and sang in a frenzy to shake off their fears. When there was a presence, the priest went round to check on whose body the spirit lodged. The wind kept on and the anxiety in people increased. The priest came to me, his face pale and his eyes turned, as if possessed. The whirlwind in the compound dragged me into a neighboring compound where I met a Christian mass in session. The priest there began to talk in tongues. He staggered and dragged himself towards me. “Here is the CIA and FBI combined! This is the one with the Living Scripture of the Living God!” He said and prostrated. I sat on a white peculiar stool. Before the priest said more, I left and found myself in a spiritual drugs store. A youth came in with a cigarette in his hand. He came to search for Telepathy-Stress-Tablet. He looked ashamed that he came in with cigarette. “Feel free to smoke. Smoking is a great nuisance and endangers the magnetic forces of the brain. But truth is, we are all smokers – one way or the other,” the shop owner said. I felt relieved. I found myself to be the youth. I took a pack of the medicinal tab off a counter. I awoke.

Survival Of The Fittest
I was in a strange land. A warrior appeared with a woman by his side. They approached me and we stood face-to-face. “Let’s test our faiths and see,” the warrior said. I did not quite understand what he meant and before I responded, he brought out two long knives, threw one to me, and said: “Let’s stab ourselves, you first, to see who dies or lives!” I was shocked. I can not face him. That would be suicide. The woman by him went aside for the match to begin. “My faith does not support your crude method of trial,” I said. “So what does your faith support?!” He shouted. “If we must, we fight to defend our honor which is the honor of the living God in whose hand is life and death,” I said to avoid the unwholesome act, but to my chagrin, he said: “I accept!” The landscape changed. We were in a field with drawn swords. I was fast. Before he moved, I struck several times and he fell down dead. I matched across his chest to where his woman was. “Let me come with you,” she said in a sweet voice. “Tell me why you’ve chosen to be with such a villain?” “He kept me by force,” she said. I sympathized and let her come. I led the way, she followed. After a long walk, she said: “I have a confession to make,” I turned to her and listened. “I am with his child!” I felt as if she stabbed me. I unsheathed my sword in anger but thought twice. I awoke

Magical Circle
I was surfing alone in an ultra-modern internet café beside two girls. There was an abrupt power failure. All the systems went off. I dozed off. I saw myself in a big circle surrounded by big wall clocks. Everything had frozen. Time had stopped. My mind began to relay a slide show. I saw a series of lifeless planets. Then a fauna that was vibrant with wild life. I watched a peculiar two-winged zebra by the bank of a river alone. I sat up. “Look, he is awake,” one of the girls said. “Impossible!” The other said. “He is supposed to be completely mad!” The cafe had turned into a ritual hall. Semi-nude girls danced round me to Michael Jackson’s ‘I am bad.’ They charmed me. But little-by-little, I struggled, till I broke free and stood up. The two girls came forward and when we locked eyes, I said: “I am of light. Darkness can never rule me!” I crossed over their magical clocks and went out. I bumped into a woman in black robe. Her ritual tray of fruits and incense fell. I begged her pardon and instantly had a glimpse of a distant past life where something similar occurred. I saw, on a larger than life sized screen, a prince bumped into a maid in black robe on his way to meet his consort. She begged his pardon. I awoke.

Suu Kyi/Shakespeare
I watched an intelligent system customized to answer phone calls. The system had an override code to bypass the machine and accept or reject calls. A handsome youth from Asia made an indebt demonstration of the system to a male visitor from Europe. I had a radio receiver in hand. It automatically tuned to a news bulleting: “Aung San Suu Kyi is sick. Some rashes suspected to be from a virus had appeared over her skin and most sensitive part. The activist is currently receiving treatment at her home where she was kept under house arrest.” I immediately reached there to investigate. She was in the bathroom. I ran a check on her bathtub and it appeared to be the spot where the virus originated. She came out to meet a male doctor. We locked eyes but her gaze was far away. I left them and visited a publishing house. I saw the Asian youth surrounded by visitors: “People come here from all over the globe and beyond to download materials. I am the only publisher who works alone. I man everything you see in this press,” he said. I went round the peculiar press. There were stacks of used and unused papers and printing plates all over. I went further into a large hall. I saw shelves stacked with finished works. I went into a library and found the visitor from Europe. The Asian host later appeared and showed us a collection of poetry works encased in a peculiar glass. The European was by my side. We stood by a case, which had a book titled: “26.” “Do you have the works of Shakespeare?” He asked. “We have works of Old and New,” the Asian host said. I awoke.

Mac Cain versus Obama
I watched two luminous images of males. One of the images was on top of the other. I had the impression that the image at the top was Obama. He outshines the one underneath. The other image underneath looked like Mac Cain’s. It was contortedly glossy. I awoke.

Right &Wrong
We were at a new place. I was with two ladies and a tall moderately built American. I was the only African. The surrounding looked like a hostel with walls sprayed with ash-colored paint “I am having a cold feeling,” the American said. “How is it possible, when there are two walls to this building? I queried. He ignored me. We entered a study room where the two ladies sat. In a voice that sounded strained with anger, my friend said: “As far as I am concerned, there are only two things in life, Right and Wrong!” I said: “My Friend, calm down. Although there is the negative and the positive forces at work in our lives, I see the two serving our purpose in life which is Growth.” He looked more embittered and flexed his muscles around, probably to muzzle the two ladies who inwardly conceded with my view point. His pale and contorted face hung above my bed. His green eyes, so intense, I had to log off from sleep. I awoke.

God Have Mercy
It was Monday. I was in a hospital with a tall heavily built female nurse. The nurse showed me how to file a request. “You should cancel and correct all these grey areas,” she said and left. I went into a ward. I bumped into an African who looked offended by my intrusion. He telepathically scanned my details. “I am here to submit my request form,” I said and gave him the form. He gave me back the form and said: “We don’t collect filled request forms here any more.” I turned to go. “Wait a second; let me have a second look.” I gave him. He perused through. “OK, yours is the case of Early Death. You haven’t effected the corrections yet.” He called a nurse. “Take this man to the theater. He is to correct a request filed by his ex-wife in his name. May God have Mercy on her,” he said and went his way. The nurse took me into a peculiar theatre-room and left. The place had beds lined up in rows like in an ordinary ward. I sat on one of the beds and began to digest what the African said about my Early Death. I heard movement and turned. Another nurse came in. She was African, slim and beautiful. “We do not operate today. We operate tomorrow,” she said in a soft sweet voice. “It’s all right. I am not here for an operation. I am here to cancel my death,” I said. The beautiful nurse nodded and quietly left. I awoke.

Coming To America
“You will go to the United States of America where you will complete your studies and work. Here is your ticket and travel document. You shall come alone. As for your wife, you know better,” a voice said in my ear while I stood in a banking hall. I proceeded to the customer service desk, where Peter and his colleague, Lucinda sat. Peter’s gaze was distant. Lucinda attended to me in a jovial mood. She wore an open necked gown that revealed her voluptuous breasts. “As for your wife, you know better,” I recalled and felt appeased. But when “You shall come alone” recapitulated in my mind, I felt a fog of sadness engulf me. I felt bereft of Lucinda seated there with her smiley face. Why am I in the bank today, this moment…this…? I began to question. Who said I will go to USA in the first place… More questions continued to crop. But as I continued to watch Lucinda, I didn’t care. Until suddenly night fell, the bank had closed. Then all my worries resurrected and trudged me out to the airport. I awoke.

Psychic Phenomenon
We were in the middle of a phone interview with a beautiful young nurse I was to employ become my special assistant, when two of her sisters hijacked the line. “Who are you?’ One of them asked. I said something my memory didn’t catch and they were scared off. The interview continued physically next day. My outgoing SA was there to assist. “How much of psychic phenomenon and virology do you know? He operates within the two states of our consciousness. How much experience do you have that you applied to be included in our fat payroll?” My SA fired. The applicant smiled and cleared her voice to answer. I awoke.

It was day time. I sat and watched a discussion between my wife and a female fish vendor. The fish vendor asked my wife to buy from her but my wife declined, “I will have to ask my husband….” Before she closed her mouth, I found myself with a piece of broiled fish in hand. My wife too, she tore and munched on her way to me. “You and your husband share a great secret,” the fish vendor said. A long black zip appeared above her and began to draw with each step she took. It completely zipped us when she joined me in our room. I awoke.

2 thoughts on “Dream Stories – Black Jews” by Ahmad Abdullahi (@danjummai)

  1. Kai…Ahmad, u’re and this ur dreams again. This is gud.

  2. yinkus (@yinkus101)

    I dnt get this story

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