Resurrection

Her legs bent and extended out in a frantic rhythm. She was reaching towards a hot air balloon as it flew higher and higher away. In it stood a girl with a red shirt and blue leggings, holding on to a baby doll. The doll was old and naked, its one eye dropping shut and the other eye wide open. The girl and the doll both called out to her, begging her to join, to not leave her to play with the old action figures alone. They had food that they had packed in the lunch-box full of orange delights, and she had never seen the baby doll eat before. If she missed the balloon, she would miss the party. She would not get to taste the delights. Her legs grew tired and her lungs begged for air. She stumbled onto soil as the pair flew far away from her. Her knees ached as she tried to stand up, but her legs were quickly becoming consumed into the ground like quicksand. She cried out to the hot air balloon, hoping that the toy would hear her. But the balloon morphed into an airplane, quickly vanishing from her sight. She screamed and —

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Dayo slowly sat up, yanking off the helmet-like headgear. For a moment she stared out of the window, and watched a plaintive light shine across the small bedroom. It scattered just enough light to reveal the acrylic paint peeling gently from the walls at the bottom like little banana peels. Some of the more atrocious bruises were shielded by the pot of dead flowers in the corner. Next to the pot laid a portrait, lying face down on the dusty floor. Dayo was not sure about why she was looking out of the window. She never found anything beyond the foggy backdrop of the clouds, and she wouldn’t find anything today.

Dayo reached out for a charger. She grabbed and jammed its tip to the hole at the bottom of the headgear, turning lines that ran through the headgear from red to a disgusting luminescent orange. Before, she would fall into slumber with her Dreamcatcher on while it was still charging, but the recent news regarding a man whose brain got blown into bits urged the government to release health pamphlets, spreading awareness and scaring people like Dayo out of using it whilst charging. She had also been using it less frequently — her dreams hadn’t been the same recently. Some were too plain, too alright, while others too stressful. The novelty of the Dreamcatcher faded along with them, along with its fleeting comfort. She was tired of gambling with it, hoping for better dreams.

The alarm rang through the room once more. She got up from her bed, stumbling out of the room, leaving her Dreamcatcher behind to heat up her bedsheets. She preferred to spend many hours lying face down on wispy sheets when she didn’t have to travel for work. But she had somewhere she desperately needed to be today.

…

“Hello, hello?”

Dayo blinked slowly, staring at the soft light illuminating the waiting room. Dayo could sense that there were people around her. She could hear the soft hums of their devices, but nobody spoke to each other. It felt empty enough for her to fall into blank thoughts.

“Hey!”

Dayo jumped back to reality, turning to the woman sitting beside her.The lady’s white wisps of hair grew into a frizzy puff. She was dressed in a beautiful white dress, decorated in red flowers and matching red shoes. She had her hand on her chest and a worried look. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Dayo said slowly. “Yeah I’m okay.”

“That’s good,” The lady sighed, relieved. Her face relaxed, revealing sun crinkles that ran so deeply that Dayo couldn’t tell if she was smiling or not. “I was wondering if you’ve been here before.”

“Ah,” Dayo scratched her neck, confused. “No, this is my first time here.”

A moment of awkward silence passed — at least to Dayo it seemed like awkward silence. The lady didn’t seem to mind, as she hummed and played with her pink handbag. “How about you?”

“Today will be my fourth time here.”

Dayo’s eyes widened. “Your fourth time?! Wow…”

“I got a massive sum of inheritance from my husband.” The lady sighed. “He owned a very large and successful business — not that I needed his money, but it definitely helped me since I can’t really work anymore.”

Dayo shifted in her seat, not sure of what to say next. “You retired?”

“Yes, as soon as my husband died…I know you can work up to when you’re 80 years, but I decided to retire a bit early.”

“I wish I could retire early.”

Dayo earned a chuckle at that. “You’re a young little lady. You still have a lot to learn – and earn.” The lady rubbed her fingers against the golden chains of her handbag. “What do you do for a living?”

“Tech consulting.”

“Wow, so you’re in a big field then, where do you work?”

“Blackblurg Management.”

“I’ve heard about that place. I had a friend who’s a shareholder — well, he was more my husband’s friend, but we got along well.”

“What did you do?”

The lady smiled. “I was a lawyer. I also did a bit of smart investing — a bit of this and that. Now I’ve decided to stop entirely.”

“How was it like, your work?”

“Tiring.”

The pair didn’t speak for a moment. One was not used to talking, and the other chose not to elaborate on her colorful fleeting life. She decided to play with her handbag instead, leaving the other trying to gaze beyond the bright white office. A woman’s voice — maybe the attendant, Dayo thought — called for another person, leading them out of the waiting area.

Neither Dayo nor the lady seemed to notice the stream of people entering and leaving the lobby. They were both busy in their own little worlds. Dayo closed her eyes and tried to keep her fingers from shaking. This silence seemed different from the time before they spoke. This one was uneasy, yet oddly relieving. It reminded her of sitting on park benches, basking in empty breezes. Hearing quiet breaths beside her, only interrupted by brief periods of smooth voices. Dayo wondered if her voice was as smooth as them now. She wanted it to be smooth with this woman, for some reason.

“Why are you here?”

The woman gave Dayo a confused look.

“Like, why are you here…I’m here because I heard good things about this,” Dayo began picking her nails. “And I’m tired of using the Dreamcatcher.”

“How long were you using the Dreamcatcher?”

“About a year — it felt so good at first, but my dreams have recently been quite messy.” “Did you see a doctor about that?”

“I went to my oneirologist, they said I might need to take a break from my Dreamcatcher.” Dayo sank into the pastel blue chair, stretching out her legs. “I thought it would help me, but it’s just been shit for a while now — ah, mind my language.” Dayo raised both hands up.

“Dream therapy at home for such a low price? Absolutely unserious,” the lady hummed. She tapped Dayo’s lap reassuringly. “You came to the right place.”

“Yeah,” Dayo laughed. “How about you? I heard once is enough, but you’ve been here a couple of times…not that I’m telling you what to do with your fortune, but, you know, if you’re comfortable with it.”

The lady stared at her bag. “I lost my husband, as you already know. It’s only been five years, but I miss him very much. He didn’t want to be put on the freeze, and I didn’t want him to be there either. I couldn’t imagine him stuck like that. And he wanted to become a tree, so I respected that.” She closed her eyes. “I still go to where he’s planted now, just to be there with him, but it’s just not the same. It feels so lonely sometimes. My children are busy, and my grandkids don’t seem to want to hang out with me too much. Even when we’re together, and everyone is happy…I feel so alone.” Her bony face etched with tension.

“I’m so sorry.” Dayo grabbed her hand awkwardly. She shouldn’t have asked — consoling people took some energy that she just didn’t have anymore. But this time she tried, just this once, wishing that somehow the soothing energy would travel from her hand to the woman’s.

“It’s alright now.” The lady smiled once again. Her eyes were tired but touched with a spark of hope. “It’s fine now. Why are you here?”

“I don’t know, actually.” Dayo looked down shrugging, looking down at the neat, white symmetrical tiles.

“Are the people you’re meeting still here with us?”

“Some are, but I can’t speak with them,” Dayo whispered. She tried to cough out the lump that formed inside her throat.

Dayo felt a hand squeezing hers tightly. She looked up to see the lady’s soft hazel eyes glistening, like fresh droplets from a window. Silence fell between them once more. Hands on hands, their gazes broke from one another, but they didn’t draw their fingers away. They shared a precious silence, the silence that told them that their pieces were enough. There was no need to clarify nor justify their words. The sweet silence fleeted, broken by a piercing voice. “Danielle Ifedayo Johnson.” A woman wearing a pale blue coat came from a large set of doors and met eyes with Dayo. “Please follow me.”

Dayo began to rise from her seat when the lady grabbed her hand.

“Once you try it, you can never go back. You can’t do it just once.” She let go of Dayo’s hand. “Let’s talk a bit more after we’re done here.”

They waved to each other as Dayo walked away. The sun crinkles grew deep into another smile. Dayo wished she asked for her name earlier. Now she felt a strong knot in her stomach forming as she followed the lady. Dayo was now more aware of the stuffy silence that was even perpetuated by the stomps of the woman’s white shoes.

You can’t do it just once. Dayo spent a good chunk of her monthly salary on this. She only had enough to pay for rent this month.

“Good afternoon. My name is Sharya, and I’m pleased to be assisting you today. How are you doing?” the woman stated matter-of-factly.

“I’m good, how about you?” Dayo breathed. Sharya was about the same height as her, but she took big strides in quick, mechanical successions. Dayo had to speed walk so she wouldn't lose her through hallways and corners.

“I’m assuming you’ve already taken your pre-vitals and your vitals earlier today.” Sharya scribbled something in her binder. “Now, I’ll just ask you some questions to confirm what you’ve written for me in your paperwork, Ms. Johnson.”

“Ah, yes.”

“In the past year, have you fallen unconscious as a result of a brain injury?”

“No.”

She scribbled on her binder again.

“Have you been placed in a mental institution at any point in your life?”

“No.”

Another scribble on the binder. It grated on Dayo’s ears.

“Did you drink the recommended three litres of water 12 hours before this appointment?”

“Yes.” As they dashed through pathways, Dayo didn’t see the point of drinking so much water if she was going to sweat like this. Sharya must have read Dayo’s mind because she slowed down as soon as they came to a hallway with four large dark blue doors.

“Don’t worry, we’ll give you a bit of water before we begin your session.” Sharya stopped by the door to the farthest door on the left. “Your appointment will be for about three hours. Do you understand the process and the risks associated with this memory session?”

“Yes.”

Sharya broke into a reptilian grin, her teeth as white as the pristine hallways she walked through. She opened the door, revealing a blindingly bright room. Dayo shielded her eyes from the sharp glare.

“I apologize — I should have warned you,” Sharya said plainly.

Dayo adjusted her eyes, trying to accustom herself to the room’s pristine blank walls and matching white floors. The center of the room sat a figure next to what looked like a coffin. The coffin’s wires extended out of its frame to the ceiling, forming an intricate web of strings. Dayo’s calves stiffened. The knot in her belly tightened even more.

“The doctor will see you now. I hope you have a good day,” Sharya began to close the door behind her. “And a good night.”

….

She slowly ran her fingers over the rough walls, over its small yellow bumps. She walked on the floor carefully, analyzing the tiles that had broken, displaying rough dirt underneath them. She rubbed her feet against the floor carefully, wood and dirt cool against warm feet. It was too perfect. With disbelief, she knelt down and pressed her face against the floor.

“What are you doing?”

A young girl, dressed in a bright red shirt and dark blue leggings, leaned against the entrance to her bedroom. Her form glitched for a moment before hardening again. “Why aren’t you wearing socks? It’s freezing.”

Dayo stared at her, mouth agape. She tried to find the words to say to her. “Temi…”

Temi scrunched up her nose. “You’re acting weird. Come on, Mom and Dad want everyone to eat together for dinner.”

She moved her mouth without thinking. “I’m not hungry.”

“Dayo! We know you are not hungry, but come down! You can eat later!” A familiar voice called from the living area.

“Yeah, listen to Mom, Dayo.” Temi mocked and glided down the stairs, her gray socks leaving marks on the carpeted floor.

Dayo followed the girl past the small hallway through a row of small steps, which led her to the dining room, kitchen, and living room areas — with no walls to separate them. A boy and a girl were sitting on the dining table, playing ayo intensely. Dayo remembered how quickly their long fingers grabbed the silver stones and dropped them into the wooden holes. The boy would shake his long legs, and the girl would use her free hand to twist her curls into a tighter coil. Their identical sharp beautiful faces were laced in sweat. One would think that the little stones were made of hot lava — with the way those two play — but they were always too cool to the touch, even in the summer heat. Dayo remembered how they all loved the summers but avoided the sun, save for Temi. She would stand as close to the hot sliding doors as possible, staring at her phone or watching a show on her laptop.

An older man was placing a large pot in the drying rack. Sharp spice — paprika, salty cubes, pure salt, peppers, gingers, onions, tomatoes, meats, meat stock, leaves, and rice. They danced in Dayo’s nose and overwhelmed her stomach. A woman was sitting on the red sofa closest to the stairs. She was the only one that was able to mix such a concoction into meals that left Dayo satisfied.

The woman stood up, turning to Dayo. “There they are. Why keep us waiting?”

“It’s okay, dear,” the older man shook the water off his hands. “We cannot distract our future engineer. She's very busy studying.”

The older girl pushed the ayo board away. “What is she even studying? She’s just a college freshman…wait till she gets to grad school.”

“Are you going to continue playing?” the boy asked.

“Later.”

“Then I won this round.”

“No, you did not.”

“Taiwo, Kehinde, please put that board away please.” The woman tightened her colorful wrapper around her waist.

“Yes, Mama.” Kehinde pushed the board back towards her, closing it. The man walked next to Dayo’s Mama, clapping his hands. “Let us pray first.” His sentence was received by a collective groan from the children.

“It won’t be long.” Mama knelt down by the chair. “You all are not babies anymore.”

“We know you all are ‘modern’ now, unlike your old school Father,” the man said, clapping his hands. “But on days like this, let’s pray as a family.”

They sang for a bit in the living room. Dayo didn’t close her eyes for one moment during prayer, soaking everything around her as the snow peacefully falling outside. Lips tensing, muscles not moving until there was an “amen”. Their figures disappeared and reappeared like ghosts towards the kitchen for a moment.

“Are you okay, Dayo?” Mama hugged her suddenly.

“I’m fine, Mama.” She held her tightly, beginning to move through her like water before she let go.

“If you say so. Everyone bring out your cups… honey, where’s my cup?”

Voices drifted through Dayo’s ears, sweet background noises as they got their food and shared fizzy apple cider. She filled her plate ‘til all she could see was bright orange jollof rice and deep red chicken parts. No matter how much she ate and drank, the food did not go down. It still tasted so sweet. She filled herself up ‘til she was about to pop.

….

Dayo squinted at the sky, the harsh sun dancing in her vision. She giggled until the sun became still again.

After the session, she felt a bit woozy, so the doctor called for a stretcher. “It’s completely normal...” they said. “It is …. first…. multiple…. if…. hmmm.”

She touched his white coat. She asked him something about wanting more. Laughing louder.

The doctor held her hand and mumbled sweet nothings, lips moving slowly. She barely recovered in another room and wobbled outside, basking in filtered sun rays. An ambulance drove towards her from a distance, its sirens resounding through the empty street. It made its way to the building. Several people jumped out and rushed past Dayo with a stretcher.

She glanced past the entrance out of curiosity. Should she make another appointment ahead of time? Not yet. She’d need more money first. She rubbed her belly tenderly. If she skipped a few meals and got a health loan…maybe she could afford three more appointments. She couldn’t make any rash decisions just yet.

The health workers soon reappeared from the building, the stretcher now shrouded in a white blanket. The blanket was long, but it was placed over the body haphazardly — so much so Dayo could make out bright red shoes against pale feet.