The dreamer.
The iron dome.
"Ever since my dream, I've been restless. I've been anticipating the arrival of the runner, at least I was until I started loosing faith on the issue. I decided to dismiss the arrival of the runner after I had waited for five days and no new convict had been brought into the iron dome. Looking back at my impatience, I repent of my sins of not trusting you, oh Lord of hosts and the author of the past, present and future. I ask for your forgiveness which you have freely given and I ask also that you shall strengthen my trust in you, God. All these I ask and receive in the name of Jesus Christ, your son and my saviour."
"Amen!! Now will you shut the hell up?!!! I'm trying to sleep here," a voice beneath me said as I finished praying. I looked down from my bunk and saw a disgruntled young man pressing a pillow to his face.
I stretched my hand downwards, offering a hand shake. "Hi, I'm Bosa," I said with a smile, trying to give my best impression.
It had been a really long time since I had a cell mate, two years approximately was no joke. It was a pretty long time not to have someone to talk to when the cells were locked. In truth, it wasn't all that bad, but I couldn't ignore the feeling of loneliness even though I knew God was always with me.
"I don't care," he hissed through his pillow covered face. I can't say I wasn't a bit ticked off by his rudeness, but patience was something that came to me kinda naturally. In truth, this dude was behaving like a grouch, but I did my best to stay calm and positive: first impressions were vital.
"Okaaay," I continued after steeling myself. "It seems you're really worn out from your journey, so I'll let you rest but I just gotta ask....."
"If I answer, will you let me sleep?" he said dryly, cutting my sentence midway.
"Yes, I will," I answered, trying to contain a new found excitement.
" Then ask away, Parrot," he replied with obvious irritation.
"I was wondering if you were transferred here from another prison or if you're a new convict mister........ ummm..... I'm sorry, I forgot to ask your name. I know you're thinking who does that, how stupid can I possibly........." I hurriedly said, in a crazed manner as if the world was going to end if I didn't get it all out, getting cut-off again.
"Stop," he moaned with disgust as he tried to push his face deeper into the pillow.
I admit it. I may have been a little too excited, but who could blame me for being that way? I'd been craving a conversation for a long time. Only two people in the whole prison could even stand to say two words to me ever since the incident, and they were usually "Go away."
"The name's Dexter and I was convicted recently," he said, removing the pillow from his face and giving me a death glare, which I instantly understood as no more questions. "Now let me sleep," he added after he was sure I got the eye message.
I stayed fixed in my position as I took in the face I just saw. It was him. It was really him. The dream was actually from God. I couldn't believe it. "Thank you Lord," I said in a barely audible whisper and layed back on the bed, opening up my bible. I read through Acts chapter nine twice, and on the third run through I drifted off at verse twenty into the dream world, the world where I was a free man.
The following morning I woke up to a guard's voice screaming "Get up you scavenging dogs!" that day's substitute word for prisoners.
"Get up you scavenging dogs," the guard repeatedly said as he walked down the aisles of the prison, finally reaching the aisle my cell room was located on, all the while approaching my cell.
I jumped down from my bed almost forgetting that I had a new cell mate.
"Wake up, wake up, wake up already," I said as I shook Dexter frantically for dear life until he finally woke up, though it was painfully too late.
One thing you shouldn't do in the iron dome is wake up late, because it could cause a lot of trouble for you that day; lots of trouble, and I was soon to realize that.
"Are you still on your bed dog?" I looked up and saw the dreaded face of the guard named Murphy (although we call him morphine, cause whenever he shouts, aspirin just won't dampen the headache you get) looking into my cell with a sneer.
"Ooh no," I said to myself in sorrow. "This can't be happening."
"Would you look at that? The new dog and his cell mate are today's punching bags," Morphine said shaking his head. "Good luck with that," he added with a smirk. "Especially for you Bosa."
I had done my best till that time to make sure I'd always wake up early, but my new cell mate reminded me that nothing lasts forever just by waking up a few seconds late. Dread was written boldly on my face and it was evident it wasn't going anywhere soon.
"Get out of the cell and follow me scavengers," he said as he turned around to continue waking the other prisoners. More accurately, the other "scavenging dogs".
"Wake up scavenging dogs, wake up scavenging dogs," he continued to say as we followed him down the aisles.
