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The Dream – a local short story

The Dream.

By Omilla Mungroo. I can’t recall where I was going, but the driver of the taxi was light brown in complexion, slim build, had a cool air about him, but I had never seen him before, which was strange because I never travel in a car where I don’t know or recognise the driver as a PH or taxi driver in my area. The car, however, was heading up to Maracas Valley, instead of to Curepe, where I would normally take a taxi to head out from home.

In a flash I saw the man get out of the car in an area I don’t know. He somehow had me get out the car too, and I was standing. Out of nowhere a very black man with shoulder length matted dreadlock hair, appeared. They spoke to each other in an accent I did not know at all. It sounded Caribbean but it definitely was not Trinidadian, nor Tobagonian.

I then looked around to see about ten young women, all dressed very neatly, with black knee length skirts, crisp white shirts, shiny pump-heeled shoes and their hair all combed, slicked back in neat buns away from their faces. They stood in a semi-circle facing the two men and me.

The very black man turned to them, as I faced them too, and he told them, “Watch.” He then proceeded to cut me with a knife. I didn’t see what he was doing, nor did I feel anything, but I saw his face – evil-looking and expressionless, as all the women’s faces were too, while they looked on.

Next thing I saw was a body lying on the ground, and a pile of what looked like my insides, at the side of it. For the love of God I had no feeling, and no voice, yet I knew it was my body. I was dead.

The men then ordered the women to remove the body. They dragged it off and some picked up the insides and bagged it, leaving the place very clean.

All I saw was the women dragging off the body to the back of the car, and I woke up!

That is the end of the dream. Thank God!

Usually when I dream scary stuff I wake up feeling fear. I woke from this dream with no feeling whatsoever. I was just very numb. I couldn’t say a word. All I thought of was the men’s faces and the women’s somber look. Then I wrote briefly what I saw in the dream, while I thought I was hearing someone say, “You will write it.”

I found myself writing about it to a friend right after, and the following words came out…

“Please pray that God will save this country from crime. People are killing people just to show others how to kill. It’s gone beyond the help of law. I feel as if I am Trinidad and Tobago and I was killed.”

I cried then, and continued writing.

“If Trinidad cries in the morning something is wrong because God’s Word says, weeping may endure for a night but joy comes in the morning.”

Now, as I write this I fear our beloved country might be a target for use by criminals in high places of the outside world.

Nevertheless, it is a call to prayer without ceasing. Sweet T&T must be saved!

October 2014 – Issue 12

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