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Wake up, wake up! Fraudster! Over the past few weeks, you have been mentioning the name of some woman, whilst asleep… Sofi my love, Sofi my boo…

Yesterday, you said clearly, still asleep, that you will get rid of me if she wanted. You?  Jobless and unashamed, and cheating on me?

Pack your things and leave my house! I don’t care if they are only wet dreams. Lazy man!

* * *

The idea of presenting myself to the Portsons as a surrogate mother was part of a plot to rob them. It was my boyfriend, Atopah’s plan. They were a wealthy couple, and we wanted a bit of that wealth. Nothing more.

They had been married for twelve years, and had not given up. I could see the sincerity on their faces when they told me they’d pay any amount, if I accepted the offer.

I accepted without hesitation, and they did even more than they promised. They bought me a house, complete with a kitchen and a bath.This was very close to where they lived, and I’d often go visiting.

They were extremely kind to me, but rather gullible. They shared all they had, and treated me as kin. Even their dog, Saska, was so nice. This was not how I imagined the rich would be. My entire adult life had been about drugs, sex, and petty crime. For once, the thought of living a wholesome life seemed possible.

After about three months into my stay, I began having issues. My boyfriend was growing impatient. He wanted to know when to attack, and how. He wanted to know how much we would make following such a robbery, and how many of his boys he should involve. But I didn’t want to do it anymore. I wanted to see the pregnancy through, and be paid my due. I tried to dissuade him – but he won’t listen. I wanted to turn that new page in my life.

But this was not my only problem.

I often found myself awake at midnight, naked and panting, in the middle of some road, quite a distance from my new abode. I didn’t understand how I got there, and why I was not even in my underwear. This had never happened to me before, and I couldn’t help but wonder whether it was those fertility pills that were affecting my sanity.

The more I tried to make sense of it, the worse things got. It became a daily occurrence after a month. Luckily, we lived in a quiet gated community, and I often found my way back home before the neighbours were up.

 

I tried different ways, and different things, to prevent myself from stepping out. Even when the doors were locked, I’d find my way out, and wake up in an unfamiliar environment.

Was I under too much stress? Was I bottling too much up? A bloodthirsty boyfriend, waiting to maim a good couple, with an unborn baby, waiting to be aborted?

Or had life just gotten too sweet for me?

So I called Atopah and asked him to meet me at dawn, the next morning. I wanted to let him know of my decision to abandon ship. And I wanted to do it face-to-face.

But that morning, I overslept. I didn’t go out sleepwalking. I slept so deeply that I had to be awoken by Mrs Portson herself.

I was expecting to see missed calls from Atopah, but nothing came through. I tried calling, but his phone was off.

Later that day, Mrs Portson told me that I had driven her Ford Escape out at midnight, spent about four hours away, and returned drenched in rain.

I do not remember this. And the funny part is, I cannot drive.

She also said I mentioned to her that I was going to save her, before hurrying off. How? Me? Now, I need saving, so why would I tell Mrs ‘Perfect’ that?

About five streets away from the house, a body had been found, whose head had been mangled under the weight of what seemed like a car tyre. I later found out, that it was Atopah’s body. But why would anyone kill him just like that? He never mentioned to me that he had business in the area.

And finally, what was his platinum chain doing in my bed?…when I know that the only time he ever took it off was when he was going to church – which was never.

All this was three months ago. Thankfully, I haven’t sleepwalked since. The Portsons have continued to support me throughout the pregnancy, and soon, the deal will be done.

But sometimes I can’t help but wonder…what if I killed Atopah? Would I be guilty of murder, even if I can’t recall? What if the Portsons know all that is going on? What if they are just being nice to me because of the baby? What if they throw me away, penniless, after the delivery?

What if…?

– The Dreamwalker

– A Case of Somnambulism