Adventures from the plot… What happens when we sleep at night? 

I think I should hire a private investigator to unveil what happens during the night while I sleep. Two days ago I woke up with dusty feet, something that really surprised me as I had showered twice before bedtime due to the scorching heat. Sometimes I wake up, upper body hurled over the headboard like someone hanged me to dry in some weird ritual. Other times the bedsheet is perfectly wrapped around my head to mimick a kalasinga’s  turban and on rare occasions, my 4 pillows are carefully placed under my feet like I was receiving first aid or something. Let me not even mention the exhaustion I feel every morning or the day my hands were fully covered in charcoal dust  when I don’t even have a single piece of charcoal in my house. 
The weirdest part is how I “coincidentally” meet the grandkid of the old man who lives in our neighborhood, each and every morning of those questionable nights. She’ll normally proceed to ask how my night went. If I tell her my night was just fine, the next night I’ll receive double the dose. If I had woken up with dusty feet the previous night, next day I’d wake up with dusty hands,eyebrows and would even have dry twigs lodged in my hair. 

All in all, I am just glad I sleep and wake up in one piece, yes I might be a lot dusty or I might have ligature marks on my wrists that can’t be explained  but still I’m thankful. I haven’t received any emotionally or physically scarring ordeals like most of the neighbours. There’s one who slept with a tampon and woke up with none, menstrual blood all over her bedding.  Can you imagine the horror! 

Or my other neighbor, who started drowning in his sleep one Saturday afternoon. It was a horrific sight. He was thrashing his arms and legs about, foam coming out of his mouth and nose. We could all see his distress but attempts to wake him up at that moment failed. Some people caught the old man at the edge of our fence, dipping a stick doll into a basin filled with soapy water while mumbling some inaudible words. That’s when we all suspected he was the facilitator of the drowning episode. 

I’ve heard numerous stories about the guy too. Once a friend of mine offered him a lift on his motorbike. One minute his thighs were tightly clamped on the drivers butt and the next minute he was gone. He disappeared like that into thin air. Worried that the old guy had accidentally slipped off the bike, my friend slowly rode back  in attempts to trace him but all was in vain. He visited the guy’s homestead later in the evening to check up on him. The guy told him that he alighted and looked for other means of transport when he saw that my friend wasn’t consistent with the journey.

“We were already halfway through the journey, did you have to go all the way back? “, he asked my shocked friend. 

I believe I should get to the bottom of it all but at the moment, I can only hope that I won’t wake up in a muddy pig sty one day. 

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