Dangerous Dream

So. I'm at a fuel station. I don't know how I got here. I don't remember driving or walking, or being dropped off. I'm just... here. Standing between two pumps. The fluorescent light above me is buzzing, and it's that particular shade of white that makes everything look slightly…dead. It's giving low-current vibes; I haven't seen that in a while. I am confused and worried at the same time. How did I get here? I look around for help, and then I see a kiosk to my left. The kind that sells roasted groundnuts in bottles and pure water in bags. The kiosk has a calendar pinned to the wall with a picture of a waterfall that definitely doesn't exist in Nigeria.

In the middle of all of this. I am just there. Holding a baby. A very pretty baby. I don't know whose baby it is. I don't remember picking it up. But my arms are holding it the way you hold something you've held before. Not stiff, not awkward. Relaxed. Like muscle memory. Like my body knows something my brain hasn't agreed to yet.

The baby is quiet. Just breathing and smiling at me. I can feel the baby breathe. Why is this baby smiling so much? It's creeping me out. Hey baby? Where is your mummy? How did you get into my hands? What is your name? Are you dumb Edgar? The baby will never know that. What if I speak baby language? Okay, let me try. Ewo Ewo, sorry, sorry, please don't cry. I am sorry. They say a baby will stop crying if they see you cry. Let me try that. Oh, that worked. Good, keep it that way.

I pause for a bit and take a closer look at the baby. It is like the baby is trying to tell me something. I don't know what it is, but I can feel it. If only I knew how to read the baby's mind.

Suddenly, I see someone. A guy. A big guy! Huge! I see him from a distance. I see him see me. He is walking towards me. Could that be his father? I hope so. He is smiling too, like I just won something. He stretches his hand towards me, like he wants a handshake, and then he says… "Congratulations, my brother! This your baby fine oh! Well Well. Na Boy abi na girl?" My baby? I don't know this baby; I don't even know the name of the child or the gender of the child. But if I say that, how would it sound? I don't want him thinking I kidnapped a baby and I want to use the child for some demonic rituals. So I look at him and say, "Thank you very much, SIR. He is a girl." He looks at me and laughs, "Funny guy" I know my response was stupid, but it was the first thing my head thought to say.

Then I hear the voices of more people coming towards me. I see three people. Two women and a young guy. Then someone joins them. Then another person comes. And another. And another. All of them are smiling. They work towards me as a group with different gifts for the child. Someone is with Pampers, another with baby food, and then there is someone with Okirika canvas. My baby will not wear Okirika, oh! Wait, what did I just say? The baby isn't mine. The baby cannot be mine. Just then, an old woman touches the baby's cheek and says, "2026 baby! What a blessing!" Another says, "See as the baby look like the PAPA. 2026 BABY". I take a look at the child to see if I see it. I swear I do. The baby has my cute nose, sexy lips and my shining eyes, but I don't remember doing anything with any woman na! So the baby isn't mine. Wait? Did they just call my baby a 2026 baby? I look up to the heavens, and I see four numbers written on the sky. 2.0.2.6. It's everywhere. Somewhere behind me, I hear a woman shouting, "Edgar, hold the baby properly. Support the head with your hand. The baby will fall oh" I turn around to look. There's nobody there. I turn again. Nobody. But the voice is close. So close I can almost feel the breath on my neck. I keep turning, and the fuel station keeps turning with me, and the lights start to stretch, and the baby starts to cry. Loud! Suddenly, the baby begins to vibrate. Shaking seriously, I am trying to hold the child; it's hard. I feel like the child is growing on me. The baby gets bigger and bigger and bigger. He is actually a girl. I see it clearly. She is growing really big! Someone help me. Help me!!!!! I look towards the people who came to congratulate me, but I can't find them. They are gone. Vanished. Like they were never there. The ground opens and swallows me. The baby and I. Help me!!!!!!!

I'm sitting up in my bed. My shirt is wet. My hands are shaking. And I'm breathing like I just ran from Ojuelegba to CMS without stopping. I haven't had light for like two days; the power-holding company has refused to release power. I feel useless. What kind of dream was that? I sit there for maybe a full minute. Just staring at the wall. Then I look at my phone. The first thing I notice is my last call at 11:47 PM. That happened for 23 minutes.

It's her. Now this is crazy. I was going to say it's a coincidence, but at this rate, it's not. Would you believe if I told you that for the past four years, I have been having that same dream? The dream happens the same way in the same space with the same people. I'm at a fuel station, and I don't know how I always get there. The dream starts the same way and ends the same way. Now the scary part is that this dream happens every night she calls me. Every single time I talk to this girl on the phone, or I miss her call, I end up at that fuel station and experience the same dream. Holding that baby. Hearing that child cry and sinking to the ground.

And the year on the calendar? 2026? Wait a minute. That's not the future anymore. That's right now. We are in 2026. I have been seeing 2026 since 2022. Wait! Is the dream saying that I will become a father in 2026? But I am not married. Ewo!!!!! I don't want to give woman belle oh!!!!!!!!! Chia!!!

Ladies and gentlemen, CheckMates of all dimensions! Welcome back to another episode of Why Am I Still Single?, the only podcast where my love life is a mystery, my dreams are horror movies, and somehow... You keep coming back for more. What is wrong with you people?

If this is your first time here, let me set the tone: This is not a motivational podcast. This is not a dream interpretation show. And I am definitely not a prophet. If anything, I am the guy God is using as a case study to teach the angels. Like, I am sure God is up there telling the angels, "You see Edgar? Don't be like Edgar." And the angels are taking notes. Now, today's episode is not like anything I have ever shared before. Today is not about a girl who broke my heart. It's not about a Christmas disaster or a Valentine's Day wardrobe incident. No. Today is about something deeper. Something stranger. Something that has been following me since 2022 like a spiritual subscription I never signed up for, and I don't know how to cancel it. Today's episode is titled Dangerous Dream. CheckMates, have you ever had a dream that felt more real than your actual life? I'm not talking about the kind of dream where you're flying or falling, or someone is chasing you with a big stick, kpako! because you have refused to pay them the 25,000 naira you borrowed. No. I mean the kind where you struggle to wake up like someone is holding your neck down, and when you eventually wake up, you have to touch your own face to make sure you're still alive. I don't know if you can relate? Sometimes you wake up and sit on the edge of your bed, and you're not sure which side is the dream, the one you just left or the one you just woke up in.

Now, let me take it a little deeper. How will you feel or react if that dream doesn't come once or twice but comes EVERY SINGLE TIME you talk to one specific person on the phone? I am always at the same fuel station. Holding the same baby. Seeing the same people and then the same year, 2026. I noticed that each time I have that dream, it moves forward like I am watching a series on African Magic or somebody is filming a show inside my head, and they keep producing new episodes every week without my permission. The scary part is the year I keep seeing. 2026!

CheckMates... 2026 is this year. I was told in church on January 1st that 2026 is my year of breakthrough and abundance, not the year I become a father. Looking at my life right now, I am not ready to be a father. I can barely take care of myself. I still eat garri three times a day and four times during public holidays. Where will I find money to take care of my baby? My savings account cannot even save me, let alone a woman and a child. My current account is low current. The last time I held somebody's baby at a naming ceremony, the baby looked at me, studied my face for about three seconds, and started crying. Not small cry. Screaming. Like it saw its future and wasn't impressed with me.

Why am I still single? Because even my dreams are trying to fast-forward me into a life I haven't prepared for. Stay with me, CheckMates. This is, "Why am I still single?" My name is Check Edgar, and Edgar doesn't lie!

Alright, let's go straight into it. I remember some years ago, when I was 13 or 14. I had this bad dream. It was so bad that when I woke up, I had to run to my mother's room to share it with her. I cannot remember exactly how the dream started, but I remember the scary part very well. In the dream, I was a child playing football in my compound when an old woman asked me to help her fetch water from a well. As the good boy that I am, I decided to help her. I got there, took the bailer from her and asked her to place her bucket beside the well. She just said, 'ESE' She had a very small bucket, and I wondered what she wanted to use the water for. Anyways, she gave me the rope that was attached to a fetcher. That was how I started to fetch the water for her. As I fetch, I will pour; as I fetch, I will pour. I kept fetching for more than three minutes when I realised that her bucket wasn't even half full. I stopped for a bit and raised the bucket to see if it was leaking, but it wasn't. The water was entering but the bucket wasn't getting full. I looked at her, and she looked at me. She asked in Yoruba, "Se garawa ti kun fun omi bayi? Which means, is the bucket filled with water now?" At the time, I didn't know the meaning, but I remember telling her to give me some minutes so I could fill the bucket. I went harder this time, faster, like the problem was a matter of strength and skill. After spending 20 minutes, I turned around to explain to her that there was a problem with her bucket. Before I could say a word, this old woman pushed me hard into the well and started laughing. I couldn't believe my eyes. It felt like the bottomless pit in the Bible. When I finally landed, I broke one of my legs. I looked up at her and started begging her to help me out. She just kept laughing, and then she said to me in Yoruba, Duro Nibe, Mo n bo wa!, which meant "remain there, no one can save you." I stayed there and waited and waited till I got crazy and screamed myself out of sleep.

Now, when I told my mum, you can already imagine her reaction, being an African mother. She asked me to get on my knees and started casting and binding. She prayed for more than an hour and told me to keep saying Amen. After praying, she said, 'Edgar Bobo, the spiritual controls the physical.' Someone in the realm of the spirit is trying to kidnap your destiny. Can you describe how the old woman looked?" I had not even described the woman that well. My mother stopped me and said, "I knew it. Mummy Toyosi. I knew she was the one. Don't worry; I will show that woman I serve a living God."

Checkmates, till today, I don't know who Toyosi is or who her mother is. All I know is that my mother said it was Mummy Toyosi who wanted to kill me in the dream. I thought that was all. She took me to see her pastor. That one made the case worse. After three hours of prayer. The man of God said, "My son, you will need to come here every morning for seven days for deliverance. Make sure you come fasting. The first four days will be dry, while on the last three days you are to break by six. I was confused. The man now sprinkled anointing oil on my face and told me to avoid fish and meat for a month. He said that the spirit told him that the enemy is going to attack me either by using meat or fish. I became angry. Why will the enemy use meat or fish? What happened to carrots or tomatoes? Why can't the spirit be specific? Which one is meat or fish? I could not even eat Kpomo. I suffered. My eyes came out like those of a crab. I did not only lose weight; I almost lost the battle because I almost ate fish one evening like that. But glory be to God. After I recovered, I made myself a promise: I will never ever in my life tell my mother about my dreams again. If they asked me to do four days of dry fasting as a child, only God knows how many days they will ask me to fast as an adult. I will probably die before my village people get the chance to attack me.

Well, the dangerous dream I am about to tell you is one my mother must never hear of because one man's nightmare is another person's beautiful dream. There are only a few people in the world who know about this dream. Two close friends that I regret telling and a therapist. My therapist. I tell her everything. My therapist said it was unresolved fatherhood anxiety. But she has never been to a fuel station at 3 AM with a crying baby, so I'm going to respectfully disagree. I believe this is a safe space, so I am trusting you guys not to blow this out of proportion.

In 2022, I met a girl. I won't give her a name on this episode because I like my peace. For all I know, she's listening right now, sipping juice and waiting to hear what I'll say next. So out of respect, and self-preservation, let's just call her "The Girl". That's all she gets. The Girl.

The Girl and I met briefly at an event. One of those aspire-to-prespire-before-you-retire kind of events. We weren't speakers at the event. We came as guests. She was sitting by my side, and we got talking. In the spirit of networking, we exchanged numbers and started chatting on WhatsApp. From there, we started having late-night calls and early morning reminders. She would call during the weekend to ask if I had any events I was going out for; sometimes I would do the same thing. Like play, like play, I was catching feelings.

And for once, I wasn't running from them. I was just... letting it happen, checking my phone. Smiling at her name. Replaying voice notes. All the embarrassing things you people do when you're chatting with someone you like but do not want to admit it yet. I was doing all of them. Including the part where you write a long message, read it seventeen times, delete it, write a shorter one, and send that instead. Then immediately regret it after noticing that you spelt Netflix as 'Netflicks' and that you didn't put 'I' before your AM. Those things can pain ehn!

Then one night, the dreams started.

I had spoken to The Girl that night. Long, beautiful conversation. We talked about Lagos and about food. She said she loved pounded fried yam and egg sauce, which automatically moved her up three positions in my girlfriend-to-be ranking. We laughed about nothing for twenty minutes. Said goodnight. Her last words were "Sweet dreams, Eddy. Talk to you when I talk to you". I went to bed. And then I was there. I'm standing in a fuel station. A specific fuel station. Not a general idea of one. Specific. I can see the cracks in the concrete. I can see the faded price list on the pump, fuel is 206 Naira per litre. There is a kiosk to the left with a woman sitting behind it, but she's not moving. She's just there. Like a painting. And above me, these long fluorescent tubes are buzzing, and one of them flickers every few seconds, and the flicker creates this rhythm. Like a heartbeat. Like the fuel station has a pulse.

I see myself. Holding a baby. Small. Wrapped in a white cloth. Sleeping against my chest. And my Arms know exactly what they're doing, but I don't. My left hand is under the baby's body, and my right hand is behind the baby's head, cradling it. Like I've done this a thousand times. But I swear I haven't done this before. I've never done this. I'm Edgar. I don't hold babies. I am scared of babies. Babies are too honest and too fragile, and I am too clumsy and too single to be trusted with one. But here I am. Holding one. And it feels normal. And that's the part that scares me most. Suddenly, the baby began to cry, and then I woke up.

I sat up. My shirt was wet. I looked at my hands, the same hands that were just holding a baby. I looked at them, shaking slightly. I said to myself, "Edgar, relax. This is a result of you not eating last night. Shake it off. Go and drink water. "So I drank water. I prayed small. I moved on.

Two days passed. Normal. No dreams. No fuel station. I was fine. Then on the third night, the The girl called again. We talked for forty-five minutes. Nothing special. Regular gist. I said goodnight. She said, "Sweet dreams, Eddy. Talk to you when I talk to you". I said, 'Okay, and went to bed.

I saw myself again at the fuel station. Same pumps. Same flickering light. The baby was wearing the same clothes. The dream continued from where it stopped. I begged the baby to stop crying, and then a guy came, then a lady and then people. I mean, you know the rest. I woke up when I started receiving gifts from these strangers. Someone had given me a pack of Cerelac, only to open it to see Garri.

Again, I woke up. Same sweat. Same heartbeat. Same fear.

That was when I noticed the pattern. It wasn't random. It wasn't bad food. It wasn't stress or Lagos PTSD or a spiritual attack from the village. The dream only came on nights I spoke to The Girl on the phone. Every. Single. Time. Every time she ended the call with the sentence, "Sweet dreams, Eddy. Talk to you when I talk to you," I would dream the dangerous dream. Without fail. Every time. If we do not talk before I sleep, I often sleep like a log of wood and wake up like a baby. I wouldn't see any fuel station, baby, or receive scary gifts from strangers. For a whole week, we didn't talk deliberately, and I didn't dream. I slept fine. Then on the eighth day, she called. Twenty minutes. Nothing deep. Just the regular gist. I went to bed. I said goodnight. She said, "Sweet dreams, Eddy. Talk to you when I talk to you," I said. Okay. That night, I slept like I already knew what was going to happen. And guess what? It did.

Same fuel station. Same kiosk, same baby, same people. This time, I woke up when the baby started to grow big and began to shake. The craziest part of the dream series was that from the first day I had that dream till this moment, I have never seen her in the dreams. Not once. Not even her voice or her shadow.

Now, while all of this was happening in my sleep, the universe was also reminding me in real Life was moving at that time. My friends were having babies. Every week on WhatsApp, somebody I knew had just given birth to a bouncing baby. Some one, some two and some twins. I started asking God if he was trying to tell me something. When God refused to speak, I called Fela. Now, if you know Fela, then you already know how he thinks, but if you don't, I am assuming this is your first episode. Well, Fela is the type of friend who listens carefully, thinks deeply, and then gives you advice that makes you wish you had never called him in the first place. When everybody sees red, Fela sees green. When people see a circle, Fela sees a star. Why I always tell him my problems, I still do not know.

Guy, calm down. Joseph the dreamer. Are you sure you dey dream this dream abi na you dey add juice to the story?

Fela, I am serious. This dream comes every time I talk to this girl. EVERY TIME.

Wait... every time? Like every single time?

Every. Single. Time. The moment I say 'Goodnight', and she says, Sweet dreams, Eddy. Talk to you when I talk to you" I have the crazy dream.

Hmmm! Hmm! Bro... you know what is coming to my head? You will need to marry this girl.

WHAT?!

Think about it! Calm down! Maybe God is showing you your future! The baby is yours. Maybe the fuel station is probably where you'll stop to buy fuel on your way to the hospital when she's in labour. Bro, this is prophecy! Congrats, bro!

Fela, I don't need prophecy! I need SLEEP! Normal, peaceful, baby-free sleep!

Edgar, you cannot run from destiny. The baby is coming. Accept your fate. You are now a baby daddy!

Fela is my most useless friend. So I called Nuel. Nuel is better than Fela; he should have something more important to say.

Edgar, don't lie to me. Have you been sleeping with this girl?

No! I've never even been to her house. We only talk on the phone!

Hmm. Then this is deeper than I thought. Have you heard of a spiritual baby?

A WHAT?!

A spiritual baby, Edgar. It's like a spiritual husband but in reverse. The baby already exists in the spirit realm. It is waiting for a body. And it has chosen you as the father.

Nuel, I beg you in the name of God, don't make this thing worse.

No vex. No wahala. Edgar, you have to block her. Delete her number. Something is telling me she is a witch. Sorry, I have another call; let me call you back!

CheckMates, I sat on my bed for a good ten minutes. Just sitting. Thinking. Staring at my phone like I owed OPay money. One friend is telling me to marry a woman I haven't seen in months. The other is telling me she's a witch who needs to be blocked, deleted, and possibly reported to the police. Neither of them cannot be right. But both of them also cannot be wrong. Because the dream is real. That much I know. I walked to my mirror. Looked at myself. And I had that conversation every Nigerian man has with himself at least once in his life. The "Edgar, you are on your own" conversation. Because when Fela says marry her and Nuel says she's a witch, there is no committee. There is no group decision. It is just you, your phone, and whatever sense God gave you at birth. I made up my mind. Okay, I know what I am going to do. I am going to call her right now and tell her about it. I am going to tell her everything and then listen to her response. Who knows… Maybe she has been having some crazy dreams, too. I will call her and put this on speaker. This is crazy, but I will do it.

For four years, I convinced myself it was nothing. Coincidence. Bad food. Stress. But tonight, after the baby grew in my arms and the ground swallowed me whole, I could not pretend anymore.

Where is my phone?

Hello… Eddy! Long time! I was just thinking about you. How have you been?

Hi, how are you? How's work? How's your family? I'm good too.

Right, that's awesome. So what have you been doing? Any new thing?

Ehmm, not really. Emm Peace, what I am about to say might sound weird and crazy, but I have thought about it, and this is the only option I actually have. Please don't freak out. Okay?

You are scaring me, Edgar. What happened? What's going on?

Okay. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something. It might sound crazy, but please hear me out. For the past four years, and I mean every single time we've spoken on the phone, I've been having this dream.

Dream? What dream?

Yes. A dangerous dream. So. I'm at a fuel station. I don't know how I got here. I don't...

Don't kill me, please! What kind of dream is that? It sounded like you were narrating a horror film to me. Man, you're a good storyteller.

I am not joking. This is real.

Okay, but what does it have to do with me?

I have this dream every night. You say, 'Sweet dreams, Eddy.' Talk to you when I talk to you".

Every night?

Every night.

Oh my God. Eddy, I don't know what to say. I swear I don't know anything about this. I've never had a dream like that. And I definitely didn't know my goodnight message was doing something to you. I just… that's how I say goodnight to everyone. It's just a thing I say.

I know. I'm not blaming you. I just needed to tell you. Because I don't know what else to do.

Eddy, I think you should pray about it. Seriously. And from today, I won't say that line anymore. Maybe that will change something. Maybe the line is the trigger. Let's just see.

Thank you. I appreciate that.

Actually… let me ask my mother too. She might know something about this. She's a traditionalist. She understands these kinds of things better than I do. Maybe she'll have an answer.

Oh. Okay. Sure. Ask her.

I'll call you back when I find out. Take care, Eddy. Sweet..sorry I almost said it

You too.

CheckMates… CheckMates. Did you hear what she said? Her mother is a TRADITIONALIST. A whole traditionalist. And I've been having dreams about a baby in a fuel station every time her daughter says a specific goodnight line. Put two and two together, and what do you get? I'll wait. I am not saying her mother is behind this, but there are signs. The moment she said her mother was a traditionalist, something in me jumped. CheckMates, on the inside, my spirit was jumping up and down like a generator without a fuel stabiliser. Because suddenly everything made sense. The dreams. The baby. The year. The line that acted like a spell every time she said it. Everything. Again, I am not saying her mother did anything. I am just saying, my Bible says by their fruits ye shall know them. And the fruit of these phone calls has been four years of me holding babies in fuel stations and seeing 2026 written in the sky. If that is not a spiritual fruit basket, I don't know what is. So I made a decision. If her mother is a traditionalist, and my mother is a full-time prayer warrior who wakes up at 4 AM to bind and cast, then there is only one thing to do. I am going to tell my mother. Yes. I know I said I would never tell her about my dreams again after the Mummy Toyosi situation. But this is different. This is war. And if there's going to be a battle, my mother needs to be in the ring. With her Bible. Her anointing oil. And her personal phone line to heaven. Yes, I know. I swore I would never. But if I have to choose between dry fasting for seven days and holding a growing baby in a fuel station for the rest of my life, CheckMates… Pass me the anointing oil. It's going to be a battle of the mothers, CheckMates. Her mother versus my mother. Traditionalist versus Pentecostal. And I am the one in the middle, holding a baby in a fuel station, caught between two women I didn't choose to be at war on my behalf. So here I am, CheckMates. The call is done. She's going to talk to her mother. I'm going to talk to mine. And me? I'll sleep fine tonight, because she's not saying the line anymore. That part I already know. But here's what I don't know. Why did it start in the first place? Who put that dream in my head? Why 2026? Why a fuel station? Why a baby with my face? Why would someone put garri inside Cerelac? Those are the questions that kept me up before the dreams even started. And those are the questions no quiet night can answer. Because silence is not the same as peace. I'm not scared of sleeping anymore. I'm scared of what I'll find out when my mother picks up her Bible and her mother picks up whatever her mother picks up, and the two of them start asking questions I've been too afraid to ask for four years. The dreams may stop. But the mystery just started. CheckMates… pray for me.

And that's the end of today's episode! I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please don't forget to subscribe, rate the podcast, and share it with your friends, single, dating, married, dreaming, or scared of fuel stations. Everyone needs to hear this madness. Now, before you go, I have some important announcements. First: I want to hear YOUR dreams as well. Yes, CheckMates. If you've had a recurring dream that shook you, a dream that made you question reality, or a dream that involved a future you weren't ready for, send it to me. Use the SpeakPipe or Google Drive link in the show notes. Keep it under 2-3 minutes. The best ones might make it into a future episode.

I'm trying to shoot video versions of this podcast, and it is quite expensive. Please visit www.checkedgar.com to donate. Even small support goes a long way! And please, follow me on Instagram. @checkedgarr & @checkedgardaily. Drop a comment on your favourite part of this episode on my website: www.checkedgar.com. I read every single one. This podcast ends the day I get married. And who knows? Maybe the dream was right. Maybe 2026 is the year. Maybe the fuel station is waiting. Or maybe I just need to stop talking to women before bed.