The air around me grew thinner. There was a hint of smoke floating around. Breathing was becoming difficult. What time was it? Where was I? Why was it so dark? I’m not afraid of the dark but this was the kind that came bearing bad omens. Maybe I was no longer dreaming. I should wake up just about now. And what’s that beeping sound? This is a weird dream. A gush of cold wind brushed my bare hands sending a chill down my spine. This had the makings of a nightmare that my mind couldn’t save itself from.
Tim.. (silence).. Tim! No answer yet again. TIM TIM TIM!
What do they say about dying in a dream? That if you die in the dream you cannot wake up in real life? Was this the end? I had pictured my life ending completely differently. After a long day of passing blessings to my great grandchildren and sunset gazing. Then I’d quietly slip into bed after my last supper and bid farewell to this world. After all it was not my home
TIM MAZE!! TIM AMKA! TIM WACHA UFALA, WAKE UP!
I could see my friends shaking me violently. Probably disturbed by how much of a heavy sleeper I had become. If not that, clearly about to execute the best prank in the middle of the night. Which they somehow managed to involve our whole dorm. The beds near me were empty, not well made but apocalypse empty. Like everyone had been picked from bed and not given a chance to tidy up.
But something was off, why was someone banging the metallic door that marked the entrance to our dorm? Why was everyone rushing to the door?
The room was dense with black smoke. The wall adjacent to my bed looked charred like someone had lit it on fire. The smoke detector was beeping loudly. For a July, it was unusually hot this night. Especially for a school set in a hilly area known to be cold even in March.
My shoes were set at the bottom of the bunk. Jumped down and slipped them on. Everyone was rushing towards the door. The man at the door was trying to regulate the human traffic but his efforts were thwarted by the impeding stampede. Noises rent the air. Screams mixed with panic. We need to get out of here! Swinging past the metallic door onto the stairs. Our dorm (the building) was a two storey building divided into six smaller dorms. Two at the bottom, four at the top. I was in the upper floor. The stairs were flocked with people in their pyjamas. The thin door at the end of the staircase not prepared for such mass movement. In panic it was significantly harder to leave the stairs. But nothing prepared anyone for what was beyond the small door
Windows breaking. Not because of a protest no. Everyone was running to safety. A surge of temperatures. A massive orange flame raged on and on. Fire, was the welcoming party beyond the small door. A party of confusion. Shock. Despair. Wonder. Sadness. Everyone stared on helplessly. Why was a dorm on fire? What was happening?
Buckets of water rushed from different taps, the brave trying to tame the orange monster with buckets that only saw the light of day during Saturdays as we washed our clothes. Fire extinguishers were decommissioned. Nothing was working. But the brave few were energetically trying to put off the fire. The fire brigade nowhere to be seen. It was dark after all. We were phoneless, who do you call? The teachers in school stood still in shock and some joined the students in their futile attempts at quenching the thirst of the raging fire
What could have possibly gone wrong? A first of electrical failures in decades? I doubt. Could it be love gone sour? Had history come back to haunt us in the middle of the night? The proverbial brother turning against brother. What could possibly warrant a brother to turn against another? Love turned to deep hatred? How deep was this hate for whatever, that it resulted into arson as an attempt to wipe it out? Was the neighbour not loved as much as self? Was there no honour among comrades let alone thieves? What could have pushed love to its limits?
Dear dream book, I might need to wake up now! Anytime…. No?
Author: William Kasina | Date Created2017-09-15 02:36:04 | Comments: 0