The Adamic Sleep

Posted on 03/01/2013

Ebi Komo (My Dad ;))

brothersjExcept something is wrong, falling asleep is inevitable and a good night of peaceful sleep is good for everybody. Those so gifted can sleep, dream and recollect what they dreamt with degree of clarity and in some cases able to attach reasonable importance/relevance and in some cases derive meaningful interpretations from their dreams. As with most things, some dream repeated and disjointed dreams of masquerades without faces or forms every time without the possibility of even a dream merchant to proffer a clue of what they dreamt. Yet there are some like Nebuchadnezzar who upon waking up from what they know was restless nights of sleep, they completely forget what the nightmare was all about and in milder cases some doubt whether they dream at all.

There is yet another kind of sleep, the induced type that is activated to paralyze the patient from interfering in a needed operation. There is also the sleep walking who never know they are sleeping but are active, some go to the extreme of cooking a whole meal and consuming it and then return to sleep to wake up to wonder who the visitor that attended their kitchen. The human mind is mysterious as well as it is mischievous; if mischief is visited at another, it is common but if the mind plays on itself, it is the beginning of trouble if it is not understood and if it escalates. If a patient suddenly goes to sleep without warning and find part of his body missing or altered when he awakes, the patient would be confuse if others do not tell him what really happened. In this case, it is the more you look the less you see.

The work of an artist is recognized by those who had taken the time to study other works of the artist to identify the signature within the work. Hence art enthusiasts are able to pinpoint the works of their favorite artists amongst others. The Bible said God created man and man was alone. The Creator who knew what man was supposed to be knew he was alone and he needed a human companion to cure him of his loneliness. To cure him of this loneliness, God put Adam to sleep and did the needed operation. Being the resourceful God that He is, and to create the needed affinity He took a part of Adam to form another being fairer with features far different. (Curiosity does not kill cats only; it is difficult to be inquisitive from afar). When Adam came to, he was confronted with what was missing and the woo that escaped his drowsy lips became the goal of his pursuit for completeness as well as companionship.

A few observation of this may be beneficial to parents as well as young adults. Adam was alone and he did not know what was missing. When Adam woke up from his sleep, he did not wake up to see giraffes and hippopotamuses but to one fine lovely baby that stole what he thought was his heart. No, she did not steal it, God took it and gave it to a girl, and no it was not his heart but just his ribs and yes, men do exaggerate pain and loss of all kinds!  Go ahead and blame Adam. Where you fall asleep is very important and it is important to have the guards in place while you are sleeping because you never know what turns up when you wake from sleep.

There we have sons and daughters in a place and they are fast growing up but the adage that ‘how you make your bed is how you sleep on it’ escapes us. There will be a nap time but the beds are not made so we lie down where ever sleep overtakes us and we wonder why the crimped necks and unholy gifts find when we wake up. We desire particular sons and daughters in laws but there is none in sight but we make no conscious efforts to send them to schools/places with remote possibility in the morning when they get up from their sleep, yet the parental pipe dreams continue.

I will not forget a particular school mate that said, although my parents could barely afford it and I hardly qualified to be admitted, they sent me to this school where I have the potential of meeting the man of my dreams. Both sexes dream but one group controls what they dream about and work towards it while the other group seems to hibernate in thoughtless bliss until a hammer hits them awake to realize a missing part that they go pursuing to recover and be complete. It is clear why men seem to be behind always in this game of catch up and why sleepy Adam needs lots of help.

Strangers of the Past: Part XVI

Posted on 02/01/2013

buildingyelloThe warm Caribbean sun bore its merciless heat on top of Francis’ balding head and he scoffed, pulling his folded cap from his back pocket. With one furtive glance behind him, he crossed the busy street to the other side where a dilapidated stone building was jammed in between two renovated brick buildings. Shielding his eyes from the sun, Francis ducked into the shadowed doorway. “Hallo?” he hollered as he entered the empty lobby, eyes adjusting to the darker room.

“Over here!” someone hollered from a corner of the room.

Francis turned his head to the left and noticed a burly man waving from a desk near the window. With an acknowledging nod, he shuffled to the man’s side and immediately took a seat. His eyes noticed the pile of papers and pictures spread all over the table. “You’ve been busy…” he muttered in their native tongue.

Warren nodded as he gathered some of the pictures and handed them over to the seasoned police officer. For a few minutes, he watched the man’s weathered face, his wrinkled brow while he perused the pictures and the documents in front of him.

Francis sighed heavily after a few moments of studying each photograph with Ameya and Tomas, comparing the pictures that Warren had provided. Pictures he’d never seen before, of unfamiliar people.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Warren mumbled, reaching for another picture tucked under an envelope. “Look at this one,” he instructed, extending the photograph with his eyes trained on Francis’ face. It wasn’t a surprise when Francis’ eyes widened visibly and he leaned forward to study the picture more closely.

“Strange indeed…” the older man said, lifting his eyes to Warren, deep concern in the depths of his gaze. He sighed, lowering his eyes back to study the picture of Hannah, Mr. Jonathan Harris, his brother-in-law Officer Marcus and another woman whose striking features mirrored Hannah’s. “Very strange.”

Warren shook his head solemnly. “We can’t stay quiet or still about this,” he said firmly though his voice was barely above a whisper. “These men, they are here for her.”

Francis lifted his head, his brow furrowed. It was no surprise. They had met Ameya once at the police station, and now she was their tour guide. Of course it was clear that they had other plans than just letting her guide them through the exotic plains of St. Lucia. Still, Warren’s admission didn’t sit well with him.

“She doesn’t know them,” Francis replied adamantly.

“She doesn’t remember them,” Warren amended softly. They both could recall the day to the second when Francis’ son, a local doctor, nursed the pregnant amnesiac back to health more than eight years ago.

A vibrating sound interrupted Francis’ wandering thoughts and he blinked in attention, catching Warren’s worried stare.

“Your phone,” Warren gestured to him.

Francis nodded distractedly and reached for his flip-phone. His heart sunk at the caller id of “Son” on the screen. With one quick glance at Warren as if asking for permission, he hesitantly answered the call. “Neve…”

“Dad, I’m sorry,” a baritone voice said on the other end amid the raucous sound of rushing wind and a rumbling engine. “I don’t think I’ll make it home for dinner.”

“Oh…?” Francis answered hesitantly.

“Yeah, I’ll be at Ameya’s for dinner.”

Francis’ gaze fell on the picture with a content Ameya nestled in the arms of Mr. Jonathan Harris. He licked his dry lips. “I see…”

There was a pause on the other end. “Pops, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Francis replied, lifting his worried gaze back to Warren. “Enjoy your night. Hmm, yeah bye.” Slowly, he lowered the phone from his ear.

“Neve?”

“Hmm…” Francis shook his head. “We have to do something.” And soon as possible. If he remembered anything about those three American men that stumbled into his jail cell, it was the intense yet silent gaze of the tallest of the three as he stared at the woman he’d known as his wife, now a stranger in front of him. What man would sit still while his own wife didn’t remember him?

Neve stared down at the darkened screen of his phone with a furrowed brow at his father’s placid tone. Was he that disappointed that they were not eating dinner together? He shook his head in mirth. The older that man got, the clingier he became.

“Doctor,” a female voice above his head redirected his attention back to his work. Neve glanced behind him to the uniformed nurse. “You have a patient outside. Mrs. Faluna and her daughter.”

Neve refrained from rolling his eyes as he scooted out of his desk to stand. Why did Gene insist on coming in with her mother? He managed a smile. “Please send them in.”

The female duo stepped in just as Neve walked around the desk to greet them. He ignored Genevieve’s open gaze and instead focused his smile for her aging mother. “Mrs. Faluna, I didn’t think you missed me that much,” he teased in their native tongue. With one gentle but firm hand, he helped Genevieve escort her mother to the row of chairs in front of his desk.

“She’s complaining of chest pain,” Genevieve stated softly, settling in the chair beside her mother.

Neve perched on the edge of the table facing Mrs. Faluna and reached behind him for his stethoscope. “Where is it hurting you?” he addressed the older woman alone.

A half and an hour later, Genevieve asked Neve’s nurse to escort her mother to the pharmacy and Neve hid a groan when she pulled the door to close before facing him. “Will you stop already?” Neve asked in exasperation.

Genevieve scowled up at him as he rose to his feet. She jutted her chin out at him. “What exactly are you waiting for?”

Neve sighed. “What are you talking about? I’m not interested. I thought I told you that before.”

She hissed openly. “Idyo… I’m talking about you and Ameya.”

He blinked, surprised by her unexpected words, feeling the warmth spread from his cheeks to his neck. “W-what are you saying?”

Genevieve shook her head. “Eight years and still no progress, foolish man. Are you still in love with Ameya?”

Neve couldn’t speak, gaping at the defiance of Genevieve’s glare. Even after she begrudgingly left his office to join her mother, he couldn’t find the words to match what his racing heart felt.

<<Part 15 || Part 17>>