The Mystery Man

I can vaguely remember.

As I entered the hall, I felt his gaze on me from the corner of my left eye. Still standing I turned to my left towards the spot he laid, and our eyes met. He appeared amused, and I wondered why. The eye contact lingered till I freed my eyes to observe the busy and packed hall. It’s a big hall and the aura felt like there were picnics going on. People laid on mats in segments talking and laughing into each other’s faces. 

I noticed a middle aged woman in a sleeveless white chiffon blouse and denim shorts just about 20 feet away from the spot I was standing. She was kneeling towards a blue medium sized cooler. She tried to open it while she spoke anxiously on the phone.   

However, none of the activities that went on in the hall interested me like I pretended it did, so I returned my gaze to the nameless man who at that point still felt like a stranger, even though he still stared with a knowing grin.

He reminded me of Lamar Odom. Both of them were about the same size. He also reminded me of Angelo from BBA the Chase. His dreadlocks were secured in folds. In addition, he wore a loose singlet over a pair of moderately baggy jeans trousers with grey elastic edges.

Automatically, I walked towards the spot he laid, at that point on his left side, supported by his left arm. As I advanced closer, he turned over an open book he had his right palm on and sat up to a sitting position, wrapped around his legs so perfectly like a yogi, and in the friendliest grin said “hello Koko” as he extended his right hand a bit upwardly. 

Apparently, we were supposed to know each other. Well, he appeared to know me, but his face still wasn’t clear, but it was difficult to ignore his eyes. They were too kind and intimate to belong to a stranger. 

So, I let my suspicion slide. I stooped, offered my right hand and our hands joined in the most buttery motion. How could a man’s palm feel so soft? I mused. 

My eyes wondered to his bare-hard-to-notice feet. If I just saw only his feet, I would have thought they belonged to a yeti. Huge! My scrutiny continued to the grey elastic edges of his trousers which i could barely notice as they were tucked away from my full glare. However, i still noticed some grim of dirt on the elastic edges. I looked at his face and felt a strong urge to ask if he was a fishermam, because i was starting to assume that was his profession.

Just then, I saw mouth movements, so I switched off my thoughts, and heard him say “sit”. With no thoughts or objection, I sat. 

He continued with some vague questions about Calabar festival. The mention of Calabar festival however made the difference. 

That was our initial point of contact, i remembered. 

He was with his friend while I was with my colleague.

I remembered he gave two free tickets to me and my colleague, so we could watch the maiden dance.

Earlier, I and my colleague had watched the maiden dancers file inside a hall in their glorious cultural and colourful regalia. We were both fussy when we were barred from entering the hall without our tickets. 

So, Mr kind eyes swooped in and saved the situation.

Okay, this is just a dream! 

Like the unconscious type you can’t help when you’re asleep. 

I’ve been having a lot of those wild dreams lately.

Not too long ago, I was this exceptional abstract artist exhibiting her masterpiece to Vincent Van Vogh. I still CANNOT understand what business Van Gogh had in my dream. I am centuries out of his generation, and I have only seen a self-portrait of him, and definitely not the face I would want to see in my dream if I had a choice.

It makes it wackier knowing in reality, I can’t even sketch to save my life. 

But it was a pleasure to have met a man of his reputation anyway.

(Perhaps you too have had one of those wild dreams you hate or love to wake up from. You can share in the comment section for the laughs.)