This must be our lives

Today, I woke up on the wrong side.

Or let me say, I woke up on the wrong side the day before
And didn’t forget not to today.

Yesterday was brief but, like a dwarf with full pregnancy, loaded.

It was the concluding part of the day that seemed most loaded with intrigues to say the least.

It was a fun-filled day, but like a white linen stained with the tears and blood both of joy and grief; it was laced ultimately with a drop of sorrowful tear.

One may wonder what that tear or sorrow was about, but truthfully it wasn’t just about the recent presidential pardon of the former Bayelsa State Governor. Neither was it just about the unceasing killings orchestrated by the notorious Boko Haram.

One may also wonder, how about the recently announced death of Africa’s foremost storyteller, Prof. Chinua Achebe? Well just like the others, this also forms a part of the ingredients that make up a salty meal.

It was that I went into a reality coma, scaled up the fence and brought down warm airs. What if I’d not gone up? “Then cold air is yours for keep. And you won’t believe it if I say you never learn to sing like a bird or fly like one until that very moment when you become a bird.”

I went into a palace of dreams and my emotions deserted me. And in their hiding, they still had a way to betray me. But Olodumare has his way of doing things. It is that betrayal, like that of Jesus, that was needed to bake dreams.

I went into this palace of dreams. But hey, what if I’d not gone into the palace? “Then, the doldrums is for you to visit. And trust me my good boy, that’s not a good place to live, of course, as dold.”

The dream I had in that palace was so sweet that it collected volumes of tears from me, but they were all channelled into a hungry drainage that emptied right back into me.

What’s this dream? I don’t think I know. I may only have an idea at the moment. It unfolds…for the next…

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