It's Only a Dream

It was like a dream, but I was not sleeping. I was wide awake munching a piece of chocolate chip cookie that I had between my thumb and index finger. There was no sign of sleep or tiredness but my living room was quiet. My family has taken a walk in the neighborhood to drink in the warmth and freshness the nice weather provided.

The prophecy of the old folks dreaming and the young guys having visions has become real to me. Judging from the blood running through my veins, this was certainly a vision. None of those traits associated with old age has caught up with me.

The President of the nation was passing my way! There was a big crowd standing on both sides of the direction in which the leader was expected to pass. This was kind-of out of the ordinary because the usual presidential motorcade was absent. There were no serene or gun-tooting muscle-men taking cover here and there as if in combat gear. The president including many of the chief lieutenants was taking a walk. The weather has been persistently beautiful. The air was not a mixture of dust and smoke from combustibles and the smell of engine oil. But those were not the strangest of them all. What was almost breath-taking was that the Commander-in-Chief was walking blindfolded. His only trust was in those who had sight and were suppose to lead the way. As expected they were doing their job: leading the president and urging him to go on.

As the president and party moved on, they came closer to where we were all gathered. Right around there was a dig dark pit. I could not really figure out how the pit got there or what caused such a big opening in the earth. The earth might be having its own internal struggle and finally decided to let the World know by bursting open. Or, it might be a result of mad men and women venting their anger on poor Earth. Was it due to the endless search of hungry people whose eyes were fixed on the precious things found beneath the crust or was it caused by those digging one hole to cover another? I have no way of verifying but that was the least to ponder. The president and party were drawing near to the hole. Like the president's lieutenants most of us in the crowd were divided. That line of demarcation was so thin. In many respect, we were all the same-same people, same mixture of social and economic groupings. There were those urging the president to move on. Quite unthinkable that anyone in their right mind will not warn a friend or leader of an impending danger. But such is the World we have come to know, full of deceit, pretense, sycophancy, greed, and hardheartedness. They shouted in the midst of much dancing and jollification,

"Go Prezzo, go Prezzo, go Prezzo."

Some of those dancing and urging the President to keep moving as if the deep dark pit were not there were all the way to the rear. You could tell that they were not quite aware of what was unfolding. They were little far from the action but depended on the judgments of those close by the president’s pathway. I could not make up most of their faces but I recognized some of them. My old school mate Korkor was doing a “culture” dance. The last time I saw such beautiful performance was at the Kendaja Culture Center outside Monrovia when I went there for LBS Jamboree 88. That was almost twenty years ago but Korkor brought back that memory. There were no drumming but the way Korkor did it was like responding to a finest of all instrumentations. Anyone with such poor dancing skills like mine will certainly fancy such talent but something bigger than individual talent or personal shortcoming was at stake.

There were a few of us raising our voices above the crowd alerting our blindfolded leader that danger was ahead. Although our voices appear like the whining of a little child during a rock concert, we were adamant that our leader was going to pay heed and spare all of us another grieve. There were those standing on the side line. They were quite pragmatic and did not want to be seen as either too fanatical or too critical. They were cool because they were soberly weighing the pros and the cons. I could see their lips move but heard no words. They were analyzing but at the same time not letting eyes off the blindfolded leader, the group in which I was part or the other group where Korkor became a spectacle.
By then, some of those lieutenants traveling with the president took either this side or that side as they too saw politically expedient. The pit was just few paces away. Just two or three more steps would find the president down the deep dark pit.

“We did not want to disturb you so I took the kids for a walk...”

When I turned to the direction from where the voice came, I realized that I have been sleeping ever since I returned from work.

“It’s only a dream,” I consoled myself and arose.

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