When Death Knocked in My Sleep: A Nightmare That Taught Me About Life

Last night, I had a nightmare so vivid it clung to my soul even after I woke up. In that dream, I was at the hospital — not as a visitor, but as a patient. I had been diagnosed with a deadly illness. The doctor’s words were clear: I was going to die. They asked if I wanted to be injected with a medication that would prolong my life for a short while — just two more years. I declined. I was still healthy at that moment, and even though I was shaken by the news, I didn’t overthink my decision. I just said no.

Then the dream shifted.

I was weak. I had lost all my hair. My body was frail, a shadow of the woman I once was. I was dying. I turned to my sister, Rehema, and told her that I regretted refusing the injection. I wished I had chosen to live those extra two years, even if they were filled with pain. But even as I said the words, I wasn’t sure what I truly wanted — to live or to die. I was caught in between. A part of me still wanted to hold on to life.

Rehema looked at me and said, “Hata wangekusumbua.” I couldn’t tell whether she meant it sincerely, or if she was trying to comfort me, knowing the decision was behind us now and there was no turning back.

And then I prayed.

In my dying state, I began to plead with God for a miracle. And something happened — I felt a spark of strength returning. A flicker of hope. My parents had already given up. They had accepted I was going to die. I didn’t tell them that I felt stronger. I didn’t want to give them false hope. I wasn’t even sure if I was truly getting better, or if it was just my imagination — one final delusion of hope before the end.

When I woke up, I was in tears.

I prayed for health — not just for myself, but for everyone struggling in silence, everyone fighting invisible battles inside breaking bodies. I realized something profound: when death comes, we lose control. No human can stop it. No one can protect the people they love from the pain of losing them. No one can stop the ache of grief.

That dream taught me something I’ll never forget — life is fragile, and those who live with terminal illness endure a depth of pain and uncertainty that most of us will never truly understand. I felt it. And I honour it.

We often live like we’re in control. But we’re not. Life is a mystery, and sometimes, even in dreams, it reminds us of what really matters.

Phrases That Feed Mediocrity: A Reflection on Mindsets That Hold Us Back

 Some phrases are not just words — they are belief systems. Belief systems developed and recycled by those too lazy to rise, too poor in mindset to believe in abundance, and too jealous to celebrate success. Instead of working hard to improve their lives, they cling to sayings that justify their stagnation. Let’s unpack a few:

1. "Aliye juu mngoje chini"

Translation: Whoever is up, wait for him down here.

This phrase sounds humble, but it’s dangerous. It encourages passivity and quiet bitterness. Why wait for someone to fall instead of working your way up? Why anchor your hope on someone else’s downfall instead of building your own rise? Progress isn’t about dragging others down — it’s about climbing higher through discipline, effort, and vision.

Success is not a cycle where the top must always come down — it’s a mountain that anyone willing to climb can reach.

2. "Money is the root of all evil"

This is one of the most misunderstood and misused phrases of all time. The original quote, from the Bible, actually says: "The love of money is the root of all evil." But many choose to distort it as a way to justify their discomfort with wealth.

In Rich Dad Poor Dad, Robert Kiyosaki explains that this mindset keeps people broke. When you believe money is evil, you subconsciously sabotage your ability to earn, invest, and grow financially. The truth? Money is a tool — neutral and powerful. It amplifies who you are. If you're generous, money gives you reach. If you're selfish, money reveals it.

The problem isn’t money — it’s the fear of handling it, the ignorance around it, and the shame people attach to wanting it.

3. "It’s lonely at the top"

This is often used to romanticize failure or to warn people away from ambition. But ask anyone truly at the top — they’ll tell you it’s not lonely when you take people with you. It’s only lonely when you isolate yourself, step on others, or rise without lifting anyone else.

Build community. Network wisely. Collaborate. You don’t have to be alone to be successful. The idea that greatness must come with isolation is another lie sold by those who gave up on climbing.

The top isn’t lonely — it’s selective. And that’s a different thing altogether.

Final Thoughts:

We must learn to interrogate the phrases we casually repeat — because many of them are rooted in fear, scarcity, and envy. If you want to grow, succeed, and leave a legacy, stop parroting mediocrity. Speak abundance. Speak action. Speak truth.

Let the lazy wait. Let the bitter complain. But as for you — rise.