DREAMLAND PART 2
By the natural time instincts, I could clearly, as clear as snow, tell the time was around 4 AM in the morning. I could hear the early birds humming from Pondo trees planted by the edges of the bungalow compound. Over the night, I had known the name of the pretty lady who saved me from the blood thirsty Jakim's loyalists, the black python and from drowning in slow flowing waters of River Ruiru. Her name was Christine Mueni.
It was a dry spell. It seemed to me like an Acacia tree in the outskirts of Isiolo town that gulps a twenty liters jerrican of water deep into the sandy soils and still demanding more. The dry spell was quenched but I needed more. My long and smartly manicured fingers were still making magic cuddling moves under Christine's groins. Once in a while, playing with the sensitive bean shaped organ. My relatively hairy chest was lying on the nipple of her paw paw shaped left boob. Her right hand was still stuck right inside my groins. My manhood was still up, tight and hard. We had enough, enough that was never enough. The environment and atmosphere in the house demanded for more.
At this hour, 4AM, my mind had already reconstructed. Christine had even bandaged the bullet wound, an action that had made the bullet pain completely disappear. The reconstruction of the mind made me remember that it was already on a Saturday. I had no phone. It must have disappeared into the waters of River Ruiru. We hadn't tuned to the TV to update ourselves on the deadly gun fight between the government loyalist and Jakim loyalist. At this juncture, I realized that I ought to have slept home; same bed with my wife and same house with my daughter and son. When these thoughts started flowing in my mind, my manhood suffered an erectile dysfunction and slowly slipped off Christine's soft tender hand. "Hey! What's up? Are you okay", sleepy and in soft soprano voice, she asked. I mumbled, "Ahahahaha.....aaaammmm....", but I lost the words.
"Christine, I ought to have been home since yesterday", I responded after gathering some courage. I knew it would be hard to explain to my wife why and where I spent the night. I knew the story of me having a machine gun, killing a number of people and me having a bullet wound would definitely sound like Abunwasi stories or like the rabbit and lion stories narrated to us back in our childhood days. I sprung from the bed, sauntered into the smartly furnished living room and tuned to KTN 2 News station. Calm had been restored. A sigh of relieved ran down my spine with a mixture of guilt, self condemnation and a million and one questions about the safety of my wife and children. Scary enough, I was in a dilemma on whether my wife would buy in to my true stories.
I picked my one stand night lover's iPhone and dialed my daughter's line. The time was 6AM. The call went unanswered. I did it a second time, again it went unanswered. I called my wife's phone, it rung but went unanswered. Fear grasped me. Were they attacked? Are they dead? Would I have struggled to this extent just to find my family no where to be found? Not even their skeletons?
I quickly grabbed a towel at the dressing table to go shower. Immediately, Mueni grabbed my hand and pulled me by her side. We were all over it again. Groaning like the lion king and lioness of the jungle. It was so sweet. That was the intimate power of a Kamba lady. I forced my self out to her disappointment. Took the shower and started the journey home.
On my way home, I almost, twice, got knocked down by two vehicles; an old Chevrolet and blue Subaru. Karma is a bitch men. In thirty minutes or so, I was outside my gate. The gate was wide open. Shocked and traumatized, I walked in just to find the front door open. I rushed into the kids room just to find no one. Then into my room to find the bed empty. At the door step of our bedroom, there were some blood stains. Fresh blood stains. "Uuuuuuuuiiiiiii", I screamed and suddenly woke up just to realize that it was a dream.
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