Blurred Dreams

By on December 21, 2015

I rarely have dreams but when I do, I usually wake up with a cloud of frustration hanging over my head. This is often because of my memory issues. You see, no matter how wonderful or pathetic a dream is, I can never quite remember anything much. Most times it is just a huge blurry image in my memory, like an ugly ex whose face the brain cells have unanimously agreed to forget – for your own good.

And I hate having blurry dreams.

Very recently, I had an interesting dream. Not the Martin Luther kind of dream where one is wide awake but is still able to dream out loud and create a momentous speech in the process. Not that kind of dream. And neither was it the kind of dream where a young adolescent dude accidentally wets his pants while he’s busy snoring and dreaming of the girl he shares the classroom desk with.

I had a different kind of dream. The kind of dream one has when they get home after a long eventful day and their body parts are screaming in pain, fatigue and weariness. The kind of dream where you fall on the couch and before you kick off your shoes and say hello to your cat you simply dose off and drift away to a land far away.

In this dream, I was a happy guy. And everyone around me was quite happy. Uganda was one happy country and for the 4th year running we had been named the happiest country in the world.

The reason for this widespread happiness was because we were a kingdom. In my dream, Uganda was a Kingdom ruled by a monarch who sat somewhere in Eastern Uganda (Jinja I think it was) and ruled the Kingdom with so much charisma, grace and magnetism we were a model kingdom across the world.

When I woke up, I was keen to try and remember the specific details of the dream so I could be able to share. I therefore present some of the details that my memory could conjure when pushed against the wall.

Elections for what?

First and foremost, there were no elections in the Kingdom in my dream. Who needs an election when the ruler is loved by everyone and is not questioned by anyone? There was no mudslinging, name calling and vote buying. Everything was actually quite smooth. We did not need to spend shitloads of money procuring ballot boxes and paying people to man polling stations when in fact the election results were already known.

I can not quite remember how the king came to be but I believe it had something to do with birthright or was it the gods who picked the ruler; I  can’t remember. However, I figure that by the time someone is ruler for more than 3 decades (Yes the ruler had been with the Crown for over 3 decades), it is safe to say that the ability to hold things together are in his blood so passing them onto his son would be the most sure way of getting anyone even as closely able as him. Our ruler had quite a vision and we rallied behind him – like sheep following their master.

Opposition for what?

In my very wonderful dream, there was no opposition to the leadership. This meant that the ruler did not have to worry about a bunch of disgruntled individuals constantly reminding him of the shitty job he was doing. And this came with its benefits. First of all, everyone was the King’s friend. (Once again I don’t remember who exactly the king was but I know it was some cool dude with a great sense of humour, extreme love for music and wonderful taste in women). The King made decisions as he pleased and no one really raised as much as a whisper to say anything against him. Most of the people who tried to say something against him ended up in dungeons on a far away Island on Lake Victoria; some place like Napoléon Bonaparte‘s Saint Helena, except that on this island the chances of escape were really remote.

A few dissenting voices had tried to secede and form their own little kingdom but they were too insignificant to be taken seriously. Also, the King crushed their intentions with an iron fist that came down on them with so much power they soiled their pants.

Calmness was then restored.

Great Relationships were built

In the beautiful Kingdom of Uganda there was a general feeling that we were capable of more than just having our own little happy Kingdom. The king decided to venture into a bit of conquest and seeing as he was the longest serving monarch in the region, all other rulers bowed to him. Every now and again they would send him gifts in form of bodacious females bathed in fresh milk and honey. And these gifts he would share with his most trusted advisers; many of whom did not really do much seeing as our ruler was a King Solomon of sorts; basically a know-it-all.

Whenever one or two neighbours attempted to hold back their gifts, there was an instant warning delivered by a horseman riding on a Camel that drank water mixed with glucose. There was no room for dissent in the region, none whatsoever.

But the memory …

The thing about dreams, whether good or very bad, is that you can rarely remember all the tiny little details. I tried to reconstruct the beautiful kingdom of Uganda when I woke up but there is only so much I could manage. As a result, this Blog Post might not be able to answer certain crucial questions for instance, did we have an army and did the army take part in things like organising beauty pageants. I cannot also remember whether or not the ruler’s wife had the power to wield her own iron arm. And worse still, I cannot remember whether or not the ruler’s children were being prepped to take over where their father would stop.

Too many missing links.

I surely hope that some time in the future I can be able to completely reconstruct the dream and if all goes well, I might call on a screenplay writer to craft my tiny little confusing but awesome dream into something for the big screen, the stage or even a good book.

Disclaimer

This blog post is about a dream that the blogger had on a certain recent night. This blog post may or may not have likeness or semblance to a place that you might know. However, it has absolutely nothing to do with any event, person, time or place that might seem to have a similar storyline. It is therefore advisable that as you read the dream (and hopefully have a laugh) you do not misconstrue this blog post to be some kind of satirical attack on a Government anywhere in the world today.

“Invisible things are the only realities.” ― Edgar Allan Poe, Loss of Breath

Bernard
a.k.a Beewol
The Talkative Rocker
Follow @beewol on Twitter

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Beewol – The Talkative Rocker

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Baldie. Ailurophile. Social Media Junkie. Blogger. Pluviophile. Fixer. Sober Drunkard.
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24 Comments

  1. Kirabo Byabashaija

    December 21, 2015 at 4:48 pm

    So. You have a cat.

  2. Lionel

    December 22, 2015 at 6:23 am

    Just like you, I rarely dream.
    On the rare occasion that I do, I wake with no memory of what it was that I dreamt of.

    I applaud you have crossed the line with the tale of your dream above!

  3. Joel B Ntwatwa

    December 22, 2015 at 1:56 pm

    Sweet dreams are made of this…who am I to disagree, travel the world on the seven seas….etc.

    Man, some dreams are worth not remembering.

    • beewol

      December 22, 2015 at 4:29 pm

      hahaha. Nice one Joel.

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