Chapter 1: The Dream Number

Mosquito coil dey burn for corner, and the smell of beans from downstairs dey enter window. For this our hostel room, wahala dey always waka enter like harmattan dust—no invitation.

My roommate, Ifeoma Nwokedi, just yarn say she dream about one phone number last night, and as she wake, the number still dey her head, word for word.

As she dey talk am that morning, she never even brush finish before she dey shout, “See this number wey I dream! E just dey my head since. I no fit forget.” For our hostel, if Ifeoma carry gist come like this, na drama sure pass.

She pause small, look each of us with side-eye, like person wey dey expect wahala. “What una think—make I add this number for WhatsApp by myself?”

She dey hold her phone like say na sacred object. Her eyebrow dey raised, mouth dey twist small—she dey find who go ginger her.

Morayo sharp reply, “Abeg, add am jare! Na this kain gist dey sweet. If wahala come, we go block am sharp sharp!” Her laugh loud, she dey wave her hand up and down. “Wetin you dey fear? If e too do, we go block am!”

Me, I talk with play-play voice, but my mind dey shake small. “Add am. E fit be say na destiny dey connect una.”

For Naija, dem dey talk say, "Dream no dey come for nothing." My own chest dey beat, but I no wan show.

Halima just shift for her bed, wrapper tie tight, her face half for shadow. Her voice cold, like harmattan breeze for December morning. "E better make you no add any strange number. Because you no fit guess wetin dey the other side."

Halima na the person wey nobody for our room dey like. The way Halima dey carry her talk, e dey always get as e be. Sometimes e be like say she dey see things wey others no dey see. As she just drop that talk, the whole room just cool like say NEPA off fan. For her place for Jos, people dey say Halima mama na native doctor. I no sabi if na true, but all of us dey reason am from time to time.

As she talk finish, everywhere just cold. That lively gist we dey gist, e just freeze. Even the lizard for window stop to dey shake head. Na only clock tick dey enter ear. Na so we come dey look each other, dey reason whether to still laugh or to just keep quiet.

Nobody talk again.

Ifeoma just bone her, roll her eyes for where she dey, then sharp sharp send friend request to that strange number on WhatsApp.

As Ifeoma dey tap her phone, she mutter, "Abeg, she dey talk too much." E be like say she wan prove say nothing dey happen.