JUDAS...Part 7.

"So, Jude, tell me about those dreams."

I was in the car with Uncle Obi, on our way to make arrangements for the Service of Songs that evening. He had been in the country for a week and assisted Mum in making the burial plans. He slowed the car as we approached a traffic light.

I scratched my head. "Uncle, they are nightmares. More like. And they come true."

"How?" His face tightened. The traffic light turned green. We made a right turn into Ogui road and sped down.

"First, I saw Dad fall off a cliff. He died the next day. Two weeks ago, I saw a rabbi die by crucifixion. The next day, the Pastor that came to pray for us, had an accident on his way back and died. The same man I saw in the dream."

His brow narrowed in confusion. "Don't you think they were mere coincidences, these dreams and the happenings?"

"I would love to think so. But something within tell me they are not. There is this very bad feeling I have during those nightmares. A terrible feeling I can't put into words."

He shook his head slowly, looking straight at the road. "In all my years  as a Psychiatrist, I have never come across a case like yours. There is actually no empirical evidence linking these dreams to these deaths."

I was silent. The events of the previous two weeks had shook me. Tessy had launched a full-scale war on me and called me all sorts of names. She kept noticeable distance from me. I entered the living room one morning. Mum was drawing up a list with her sisters, Aunty Nneka and Oby. Tessy was sitting on the sofa, reading a magazine. She stood up abruptly, as I entered, and made to leave.

"Tessy! Come back here! What is wrong with you? Eh?" Mum hollered.

"I don't want this boy to come near me. I don't want to die yet."

I glared at her. She had been acting that way since Pastor Kola's death. Mum had forbade her to mention my name in connection with the deaths. She resorted to another tactics.

"You know you are being very unreasonable," I said, trying to sound calm.

"Eh! Evil boy!" she said, clapping her hands. "Just dey your lane, i nugo?"

"Mum! I hope you all saw her abuse me, calling me names. I will slap her o!" I shook my hand in anger.

Mum held me where I stood. "Don't mind her, you hear? We will find a way to sort this out. Dad's death hit her so hard..."

I was still furious. "She should get a handle on herself. If she tries that nonsense again! Hmmm..." I turned and stomped up the stairs.

Uncle Obi came in from the States that evening and quickly noticed the tension. I had told him about the dreams on the phone and he brought me a copy of Sigmund Freud's 'Interpretation of Dreams'.

That night, he called Tessy and I into his room.

"You know, I don't understand this fight between you two. I know my brother raised responsible kids. That's why I don't understand this."

His gaze shifted from me to Tessy and back to me. I looked at Tessy. She was looking at the floor. I looked at the ceiling.

"Whatever it is, just drop it. Let this be the last of it. The Isikaro family is passing through a hard time. Don't make it harder."

We nodded and left the room. That was a week ago. Tessy is yet to talk to me.

The car pulled up at a compound. A white duplex stood adjacent to the parking space and the entrance said boldly 'Grace Events.' We sat at the air-conditioned reception. The receptionist dialed the manager, who came down to receive us.

"I got your payment. Dr. Obi Isikaro?" He looked up from his tablet.

"Yes. The Service of Songs is this evening. The burial is tomorrow and continues the next day. You got the address?"

"Sure. We will be there. I heard the State Governor will be coming," the manager said with a smile.

"Yes. He was my late brother's classmate. I was classmates with his younger brother so the families are kinda close."

We got some items from the market before heading home.

"Did Freud's book help?"

I shook my head. "My dreams are different from the ones he described. My dreams feel very real."

The Service of Songs went on smoothly. Tessy and I were clad in white, flanking Mum. During the service, I learnt a lot about the man who I came to call Dad.

"We are all witnesses to the number of lives he touched and his innumerable achievements at the young age of forty-five," the Priest said. "We should all learn to confront our mortality. And live each day like it is our last."

Suddenly, the voice sounded distant. I heard the sound of clinking coins and looked around. I was lying in a courtyard, surrounded by countless pieces of silver. More coins fell. I followed the stream of coins up. Apparently, someone was pouring them from the balcony. I struggled to my feet and made for one of the rooms. I saw a maid carrying a jar of water. I followed her. She was walking fast. I caught hold of her linen cloth. She turned, visibly angry.

"Shlamlek," I greeted. "Please, where is this place?"

"The Governor's court. Are you a Galilean?"

"No. I am from Judea."

"And you don't know the court of the Governor, Pontius Dike?" She shook her head and left.

I stood at the passage confused. Then, I heard footsteps. I ran into the adjacent room. It was dimly lit and had a table and some barrels at one end. I hid behind one of the barrels. A man entered, carrying a tray. He set the tray on a table and rushed to bolt the door. My heart pounded where I crouched. I watched him. On the tray, was a beautiful golden chalice. He fetched wine from a gourd and poured into the cup. He looked around and produced a small bottle from inside his clothes. He poured a little into the chalice and shook it gently. 

The sound of a coin hitting the ground startled me. He stopped abruptly and looked around. My heart skipped a beat. A stupid coin had stuck to my skin and chosen the wrong time to fall off. I watched him with trepidation as he approached the barrels.

"Joses! Where is the wine?" a voice called, from a distance.

He turned quickly, carried the tray and left.

I heaved a sigh of relief and stood up. I kicked the accursed coin angrily and emerged at the hallway, hiding in the shadows. I saw Joses at the end, passing a door, guarded by two Roman soldiers.

I knew I could go no further. It was the Roman Governor's palace and strangers were not allowed. 

The door was open. I saw Joses hand the chalice to the Governor.

"No!" I screamed inwardly. The Governor, raised the cup to his lips and drank. Joses hurriedly left the room. Minutes later, the Governor jerked forward, vomitting blood. The soldiers rushed into the room. Within  a short while, he was still, his head thrown aback in a grotesque fashion. I screamed.

"Jude!" I felt a hand hit me on the thigh. It was Mum. "Stop!"

Everyone was looking at me, including the Priest. Apparently, I had screamed aloud. I hung my head in shame. After the service, Uncle Obi came to where I sat and asked me to come with  him. I followed him into the house. There were people in the living room. I avoided their eyes as we walked up to my room.

"Why were you screaming? Another dream?"

I nodded. "You said the Governor would be coming tomorrow. What is his name?"

"Dr. Emeka Dike. What's the problem?"

"I dreamt about him. We have to call and warn him."

Uncle Obi laughed and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Jude, it was just a dream." His phone rang. He stepped out to answer the call.

Just then, Cynthia entered the room.

"I heard you scream out there. Are you alright?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Another nightmare. We need to warn the Governor."

She looked amused. Then, she realized I was dead serious.

"That's worrying. How are we going to warn him? How are we even going to get close to him? No one will ever believe a dream!" She was pacing the room. I watched her in silence.

Uncle Obi entered the room, his face pale. I knew something was wrong.

"It's too late." His voice harbored a deep sadness.

"What?" I asked, surprised.

"The Governor. I just got off the phone with his younger brother. He died of leukamia an hour ago, in India."

I slumped to the ground, distraught. Cynthia ran to where I sat, holding me. Tears welled up in my eyes. A terrible sense of loss and despair enveloped me. Laying my head on her shoulder, I cried.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.

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