The Nightmare

 Last night, I was a person of interest in a murder case. The whole incident scared the wits out of me because I kill small insects for fun – people who know me wouldn’t even have the privilege of saying “we know him, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.” And that, my good friends, would have thrown any lingering doubts of my innocence out of the window. It would further throw these lingering doubts down an abyss of oblivion if it were on a Monday or Thursday as they would meet manually propelled projectiles.

We (suspects) were filed into a room for interrogation. It wasn’t really an interrogation but to take a lie detector test. I knew it because I am a true crime enthusiast and I have watched numerous documentaries where suspects are strapped with those strange-looking objects that measure even the slightest change in your heartbeat, skin moisture and even your thoughts.

I knew I would fail the test even though I couldn’t identify the victim in a photo lineup. My heart would be beating like isukuti drums when asked whether I killed the victim. I knew the machine would scream ‘liar’ upon which I might have been executed on the spot. You know how our police work – kill suspects and find investigate later whether they were criminals or not. It takes guts to be a criminal who does not even have an ambition to vie for a political office. I don’t and the lie detector test would definitely pronounce my guilt in a crime I did not even know the victim.

But strange things happen, as they tend to happen in dreams. This was one of them. A mutura seller rescued me. He entered the room and spilled his merchandise, angering a couple of cops idling around the room. They clobbered him like nonsense, ignoring the fact that one of his legs were shorter than the other. He ran away in a pitifully comical way.

Instead of leaving him alone, the police decided to have fun by giving a discernible head start, hopped into their vehicle and gave chase. At this point, I stopped being a suspect and became an observer in the ensuing slow police chase.

The limping mutura guy popped into a chuom. One officer alighted and gave chase. Moments later, the officer emerged from the chuom running for his dear life, followed closely by the limping mutura guy had seemingly gained superhuman speed considering his locomotive impediment.

I stood there wondering what was inside the chuom. My curiosity was satisfied when I saw a monstrosity nibbling the behind of a white guy emerge from the chuom, which had then turned into a cave. Then I woke up from the nightmare.