adminIMAGINE a world in which every time you appeared in someone’s dream, you would immediately know about it. Your knowledge of the dream would be so much that you could present a detailed narration of the dream’s events. Further, like you, everyone in the dream would experience this feeling of having been there.
The following morning, like a cast of actors that has performed a successful play, you would regale each other with tidbits from the dream. After all, for each and every one of you, it would have been your dream.
How I wish such a dreamland was there during my secondary school days. It would have settled arguments I once had with a classmate called Lydia.
“My dreams tell me that you and I are made for each other,” I told Lydia as six of us slashed grass at the school grounds. The duty master was a good fifty yards away.
Lydia snorted. “My boy, even if you were the last man on earth, I would not give you a second look.” The other pupils, especially the girls, laughed at me.
“You may treat me like dirt during the day,” I said, “but girl, every night in my dreams you pester me like a thirsty mosquito. You throw yourself all over me demanding attention. Being a gentleman that I am, I have never taken advantage of you. I always turn you down. For instance, last night . . .”
“Those are lies walking on their feet,” Lydia sneered. “I find you so disgusting that if I appeared in your dream, a natural disaster would immediately hit planet earth. All of us would be suddenly awakened, cutting short your stupid dream.”
“Come now Lydia,” my friend Sindiso said, “let our friend tell us his dream. You will have a chance to tell us yours.”
“Thank you,” Sindiso I nodded. “Last night I dreamt I was alone in the classroom working on an algebra simultaneous equation. Suddenly, you Lydia appeared and posed at the door. You leaned on the door frame, raised one hand and touched the other side of the doorframe.
Confused, I looked up and you flashed an inviting smile, your tongue slowly caressing your upper lip. The hem of your school uniform was raised a good six inches above the knees.”
“Come and join me in doing this maths exercise,” I beckoned. “You threw back your head and laughed.”
“Looking at me in the eyes, you said, “you are the best looking guy at school. My dream of one day finding you alone has come true and all you can think of is cracking our heads over maths!”
“Look Lydia,” I said, “self-improvement is the only game I play. Just sit down on the chair next to me and we do these exercises.
Like a model on the ramp, you waltzed in. Just a touching distance away, you stopped. I stood up and dashed for the door. Quick as a lioness pursuing an impala, you sprang up and grabbed me by the hand.”
“Help, help!” I screamed. My dormitory mates shook me and I woke up.
“I told them the nightmare and they comforted me. They assured me that I was safe. Is that not so guys?” I asked spreading my hands and looking round at my friends.
“Very true,” Sindiso nodded. “The poor guy was shaking with fear but we calmed him down.”
“Now, what is the meaning of the dream?” I asked.
“Shut up!” Lydia shouted. “Why waste time talking about a dream that never happened?”
“No need to ask some dream interpreter to know the meaning of the dream,” Sindiso said. “It is obvious. Lydia here may pretend not to be interested in you but deep down she is crazy about you. Dreams tell us our true feelings, even if we may try to hide them. Admit it Lydia, you love our friend.”
Lydia clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Get out of my sight before I vomit.”
“Whether you like it or not,” I laughed, “you are mine.”
Lydia continued to deny that she had any interest in me but few heard her. “Dreams speak louder than denials,” many said.
“Even then,” Lydia would argue, “how do we know there was such a dream? He is a liar.”
When the end of term results were announced Lydia was on top of our class. Her maths results were so high that the maths teacher joked that when he took leave, he would ask Lydia to take the maths class. “Well Mr Dreamer,” Lydia smiled at me as we walked side by side to the dining hall, “you are not the only one who dreams. I often dream that I am studying while you are entertaining audiences with endless stories. Your listeners clap, cheer . . .”
“You lie,” I muttered as I quickened my pace.
Mzana Mthimkhulu Whatsapp 0772238465; email, [email protected]
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