At times you wish your reality is a dream you will one day snap a finger and wake up from; yawn lazily with your lung juggling up, stretch your waist, wipe your eyeballs and be glad you escaped from the trauma. Then it becomes a torture when your nightmares come in series, each episodes leaving you with a warning to choose your traumatizing reality over the pressure of your incessant nightmares.

The worst part is when you don't know if the what you're going through at the moment is a reality or a nightmare. Like I was walking home last night through the path near the stream where the old and only church in our community sat like a mother moaning her only child. My grandfather with whom I grew up is a pagan and would always jest at the members of the church as people...