The Place Beyond Her Dreams

by Oby Aligwekwe

  “It’s your grandfather,” the two women said in unison, while my grandmother stared mindlessly with her head stooped to one side.

  “He is gone,” she added. Her wailing had stopped. She replaced it with sniffling and heaving as she watched me with eyes that revealed the deepest sorrow I had ever seen.

  * * *

  The news devastated me. The love I had for my grandfather knew no bounds, and my mind never imagined a world without him. Frozen to the spot, I stared in front of me as my grief filled my insides. Coughing to clear a lump in my throat, I fell on my knees and gasped for breath. Ifedi yelled my name and ran to my side, grabbing my hand and dragging me to my room while I tugged my school bag with my free hand. After she shut the door behind us, I sat on my bed and stared at the wall.

  “I don’t think it’s true that Papa’s gone,” I said after a few minutes had passed. I was sure that if what I’d heard was the truth, I would have had a premonition about it. Since that hadn’t happened, I held on to the slight chance that I was having a nightmare.

  “Where do you think he is then?”

  “I was hoping you’d tell me.”

  The moment my mouth uttered those words and a steady stream of tears ran down my cheeks, I felt as though my heart was sinking into a deep, dark hole. I remember the feeling of hopelessness like it was yesterday.

  Before Ifedi could open her mouth, Okem, who had been living with us for over a year, walked into the room. His eyes were red and puffy, and his teeth chattered while his chest heaved convulsively.

  I repeated my question to Ifedi and waited for her to respond, praying she chooses her words with care. Being on the edge, I knew the slightest thing could throw my already fragile being overboard. I still hoped what I’d seen out there in my grandmother’s parlor was a figment of my imagination.

  Ifedi had taken too long to respond. My head, still reeling to the point I became unaware of my immediate surroundings, I threw my back on the bed. The sorrow had engulfed me and pushed me beyond the boundaries of my being. It was right there and then that I entered Luenah for the first time.

  * * *

  I’d found myself walking down a narrow path, bordered by trees on both sides that formed a canopy over my head. Orange streaks filtering through the gaps in the trees formed abstract patterns on the ground, which created an optical illusion. I’d felt a gentle breeze blow across my face, tickling my nostrils and forcing a sneeze. As I began to inhale and appreciate the serenity the surroundings offered my aching heart, I saw an orangutan jumping from branch to branch. I followed it with my eyes and lost track of my steps for a moment. Not realizing I had reached the tail end of the path, I continued walking and entered a seemingly different world, landing on a trail near a seashore. My grandfather was right there, waiting to take my hand. Shocked to see him after just hearing he had died, I trembled and remained fixed to the spot.

  “Ona, it’s me,” he said, looking down to smile at me.

  “Papa,” I cried, hugging him as tears rolled down my cheeks.

  We held hands and walked in silence for a few minutes before we came upon the shimmering sea.

  “Where is this, Papa?” I had asked, finally garnering the courage to speak. “Where are we? Why did you leave? Answer me, Papa,” I demanded, tugging gently on his robe.

  “Good things come to those who wait,” he had responded in a monotone. “You must be patient.”

  Surprisingly, I obeyed.

  We got to a narrow street, and I realized this world did not belong to only me and my grandfather. There were all kinds of people, in all shades, colors, and sizes. There were people everywhere: on the streets; in the market; in the field; and even in the sky, hovering in large aircrafts. A variety of marine mammals leaped in and out of the ocean. Business and trading and playing and partying and anything you could imagine went on in Luenah. Merchants exchanged goods and traded both physical and intangible items, speaking in a language that to my amazement I could speak fluently too.

  I stood and pondered this mystical world I had found myself in.

  “You’re in Luenah,” my grandfather said.

  “Luenah?”

  It had felt natural when I arrived at this place. It was a place of infinite possibilities. A place I could never have realized had I remained standing on the other side—in the dream. I had been close to accessing this portal in the past, but something had always held me back. I had been afraid of what I would find if I went all the way in. This time, though I was summoned by an indescribable force, I had entered with ease. Something about the grief from losing my grandfather gave me the courage I needed to enter the narrow passage to Luenah. The second I stepped in, I knew I had made the right decision. I immediately felt at peace; all fear was gone.

  * * *

  After we’d walked for miles, it seemed like there was zero conflict in Luenah. It appeared pure. Bordering towns spoke the same language and in the same dialect. No communication was lost in translation. The boundaries were not defined, but everyone seemed to know what those boundaries were and respected them, unlike Ide and Ntebe, with their unending clashes and disagreements with each other and the neighboring towns. My real world hadn’t always been like that, though. Due to colonization, the demarcation of boundaries for Ide, a beautiful coastal town bustling with trade and amusement, and its neighboring Ntebe had occurred haphazardly, without considering the wishes of the people, and the standing issues and agreements. In contrast, Luenah was perfect, exhilarating, and full of peace. Everyone worked in harmony.

  No one seemed to have noticed my grandfather and me. People went about their business as though they didn’t know we existed. My grandfather looked different, not like the Papa I used to know. He looked exactly like he did many years ago, in the pictures I saw in my grandmother’s old album. “Pictures from before the war,” my grandmother had called them. They were taken when my grandfather was fair and limber. As he grew older, his skin had darkened from aging and exposure to the sun, and wrinkles formed around his eyes from years of deep smiles.

  We arrived at a corner store near a pristine beach. A large carriage with wheels with a mind of its own stopped in front of us and its antique-style door opened by itself. I glimpsed a magical space, as magical as the world we were about to leave behind. I hesitated for a second and then recalled how my hesitance had deprived me of Luenah for years, so I let go of my doubts and lugged myself inside.

  The carriage was larger than it had seemed from the outside. It had luminescent glass for windows and crystals for ceilings. The walls were made of a glossy material that glistened and provided a view of the beauty of the trees, the sky, and the buildings on the path we traveled. It was a moving theatre that displayed all the pleasure and happiness in Luenah, all at once. I realized that my fears had only prevented me from opening up to a place of joy and complete peace.

  “C-can I?” I asked, my hands a few inches from the wall. I wanted to feel everything; to find out how real they were.

  “Of course you can.”

  I walked around, touching different parts as the vehicle moved. The speed in the carriage increased, very much like a roller coaster. We crested the hill and remained suspended for a few moments, only to descend and repeat the process all over again. I was thrilled beyond imagination as I explored all the corners while trying hard not to fall. In the distance, I spotted a huge castle, capped by four towers, blending into the sky behind it to produce an illusion of even greater height.

  “That is the shrine,” my grandfather said, as though he’d read my mind.

  “I’ve never seen anything this huge,” I replied. “It’s magnificent.”

  “It’s the seat of office in Luenah. Everything you can imagine happens there. Laws are made and executed, gory confrontations are settled, and innumerable wars have been won with little interference to the inhabitants.”

  I stared at him in awe, pondering which of the many thoughts moving around in my head was the most appropriate
to ask at that moment.

  “Who lives there?”

  “The supreme ruler and members of his cabinet. And visitors, lots of people streaming in and out of Luenah every day.”

  “Can we go there?”

  “That’s where we’re headed?”

  I smiled, my excitement rising as we hit each peak.

  We rode the entire day, past many streams, rivers, and mountains. I noticed that for however long we rode, darkness never came. I wanted to ask my grandfather why but decided to sit quietly and observe. Maybe there’s no nighttime in Luenah. Towards the end of the day, we came upon the enigmatic shrine. My grandfather and I dismounted, and he thanked our driver in the language we’d been speaking the whole day.

  “What language is that, Papa?”

  “The language of Luenah.”

  “How come I understand it even though I’m just hearing it for the first time?”

  He laughed a little and took my hand. “Because you’re a member. You’re an Eri. Members are born knowing the language in their hearts,” he’d said, pointing gently at the left side of my chest.

  “How did I—I mean when did I become an Eri?” I asked wide-eyed.

  “It started several millennia ago when Luenah was restricted to its original inhabitants—a handful of people living in utmost serenity and joy, never growing old or dying from diseases. Everything changed when a wily princess, Ani, found her way in through a portal in an ant hole. When she arrived in Luenah, panting from exertion, our ruler had taken pity and accepted her into our fold. With time, she proved to be loyal and imaginative, wildly so, that she found immense favor in his eyes, but she wanted more.”

  “What did she want?” I urged.

  “For her people on earth to inhabit Luenah. At the time, the earth was plagued with famine and diseases, and she felt Luenah would provide the respite they needed. As noble as the idea was, it wasn’t feasible.”

  “Why not? There’s enough space here for everyone,” I claimed, looking around at the beauty and riches in Luenah.

  “There’s enough space,” he agreed. “But there is no room in Luenah for conflict and turmoil. Look at Ide and Ntebe. See what has become of them.”

  I nodded once, and he continued.

  “A few years passed, and Ani presented her plea again. She threatened to expose the ant hole so her people could enter if our ruler failed to grant even a few ‘chosen ones’ access to live here.”

  “Did they fall for it?” I asked, my heart beating in anticipation.

  “The negotiation was tough, but they later struck a deal. Ani was permitted to select a handful of good earthly humans to visit Luenah. These humans, called Eris, were bestowed gifts to be passed on to chosen ones in their future generations, and they were assigned missions to help the earth regain its balance.”

  “So, Eris are born?”

  “Yes. Now, instead of an ant hole, each Eri is provided access to Luenah through their chi, personal spirit. The Eri’s chi is far more sensitive than normal. This trait allows it to take a human form to be transported to Luenah to live and interact using the same persona as the earthly being.”

  I sighed deeply, in awe of everything I’d just heard. “Tell me more...”

  “You’ll understand everything in due time. For now, all you need to know is that many are called, but only a few of us ever make it into Luenah.”

  “Why not? Why can’t everybody make it?”

  “Doubt. It’s as simple as that. Few have the courage to go through that narrow path, the same way many people shy away from pursuing their goals. They come close enough to get a glimpse but do not take the leap because of fear and doubt. With courage, you can feel the fear and still forge on. It’s the vessel that keeps you going.”

  “How come I never found the courage on my own to come before now? I am quite the explorer, never afraid to climb trees, race boys, or even swim at the stream.”

  “We’re most courageous at our weakest; when we believe we have faced what we fear the most and have nothing more to lose. The news of my passing weakened you and forced you to move. Courage created an urgent need in you to see what was on the other side.”

  “I’m not sure I understand, Papa.”

  “It’s rare for one to find courage on their own, but I believe you would have eventually found your way through, with the right motivation. You see, courage and motivation are sister traits. The former is devoid of thought and requires extenuating circumstances to drive action, while the latter requires the will or the desire to succeed and involves thoughtful action.”

  “I always assumed everyone had the desire to succeed. Don’t they?”

  “Mostly, yes. But not everyone thinks the right thoughts. Desire is fueled by our thoughts, notwithstanding if the desire was brought on by seeing others succeed or by trying to meet the expectations we have of ourselves.”

  “Aren’t thoughts just that—thoughts?”

  “No, they are much more impactful than you can ever know. If you can think of something and your brain can define it with clarity, then you can create it. Onye kwe, chi ya ekwe. If one agrees, her spirit will agree also. And once your spirit agrees, the deed is as good as done.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Yes, but it requires great discipline. If not, danger would be lurking in every corner because one or two people had unpleasant thoughts about someone who has done them wrong.”

  “Oh,” I said, shuddering at the thought.

  “Your grandmother always said you could achieve anything you put your mind to, right?”

  “Yes, she did.”

  “Well, it’s the same concept at work here. The right thoughts create emotions that can impact your physical reality and bring things to life. Manifesting your thoughts in the physical involves the performance of tangible activities that lead to the achievement of goals. The key is to focus most of your energy on those activities rather than on your end goal, to increase the probability of success.”

  “I hope I can put this into practice.”

  “Always pray that God honors your efforts and back up that prayer with conducting your affairs with integrity to increase the likelihood of getting those prayers answered.”

  I stopped for a moment to ponder his words. “This is a lot for me to take in,” I said to him.

  Although I didn’t understand most of the concepts he was trying to teach me at the time, I reckoned I would work towards figuring them out by myself.

  “Come, there’s something I have to show you,” he said, beckoning to me.

  For some reason, I couldn’t explain, my heart raced, and I held my chest and hoped my heartbeat wasn’t as loud to him as it was to me.

  * * *

  We were standing at the door of the shrine. Towering over us, it was at least three times my grandfather’s height. He picked up the large brass knocker, shaped like the head of a lion, and banged it against the door once.

  “Take off your shoes,” he said, taking my hand while we waited for an answer.

  “Why, Papa?”

  “Because it’s forbidden to get past this point wearing footwear from the outside.”

  Seconds after I kicked off my shoes, the door flew open, and we took a step forward. Before I got the chance to peep inside, my grandfather let my hand slip away after muttering something indecipherable.

  “What?” I asked in frustration.

  No answer.

  “Papa,” I cried out.

  No answer. My grandfather had vanished. The numbing pain I felt from his loss filled my heart again.

  Chapter Three

  I HAD WOKEN up to the sound of my grandmother’s voice calling me.

  “Ona... Ona... Ona.”

  My head still reeling to the point that I was quivering, I slowly opened my eyes. As I massaged my temples to relieve the tension in my head, the memory of my visit to Luenah immediately came back to me. My grandfather had been trying to reveal something important, I’d believed. I regrette
d that my grandmother had brought me back before I found out what it was. She was clutching the bed frame and heaving a sigh of relief while I sat upright and surveyed the room. Ifedi and Okem were standing right behind her. They both seemed perplexed. Two of my grandmother’s friends, who had been rolling on the floor, wailing, were standing at the foot of the bed, their chests heaving wildly.

  “Thank God!” the first woman exclaimed. “How would your grandmother have survived another tragedy, eh?” she said, raising both hands in the air.

  The second woman clapped her hands and twisted her lips.

  “God forbid!” she said. “Don’t scare your grandmother like that again, inugo? Have you heard?”

  I stared angrily at them, as they looked at me with trepidation. Why did they have to be so dramatic? I thought to myself.

  “Open your mouth and speak,” the second woman yelled.

  “I wasn’t trying to scare anybody,” I muttered. “I was just sleeping.”

  “Sleeping?” my grandmother asked with a questioning glance. “Ifedi said you collapsed on your bed, and she couldn’t wake you.”

  I looked at Ifedi, and she nodded slowly.

  “I was too tired,” I protested. “I must have fallen into a deep sleep.”

  “If that is all, no problem,” my grandmother said. “I was just about to send for the doctor. There’s no need for that now. Ifedi, find this girl something to eat and make sure she drinks plenty of water. She must be dehydrated.”

  I sighed as I watched her walk out of the room with the two women, their large buttocks swaying from left to right as they exited.

  I was happy my grandmother had bought my excuse—I didn’t want to share my experience in Luenah with anybody. Not yet, at least. It was too fresh. Too sweet. And no one would have believed me, anyway. They probably would’ve labeled me crazy and taken me to the hospital for an evaluation.

  “You were just there, like this,” Ifedi said, placing her hands over her head to mimic a trance-like state.