Snatched dream (fiction)... A short story

"Kunle, there seems to be a piece missing, and I feel it quite close". I said to Kunle, my childhood friend, that if he had a more mature face and physique, you could as well call us twins, as we rocked everything together through our childhood and teenage years. At 23 years old, I was a step away from the limelight with the software I was developing. Not many people knew of my programming skills and, more importantly, the "Africa's Under-30 Tech Competition" hosted by the multibillionaire business mogul, Senator Peterside.

My software was targeted at telecommunications, where every African would enjoy cheaper and faster communication through the application I was developing. I spent many sleepless nights at Kunle's self-contained apartment off-campus, building from scratch to finish. Kunle had always been my backbone, giving me all the necessary support, both financially and morally. We had often joked that he would be my manager and be in charge of contracts and agreements I would be having with prospective investors.

I was not comfortable with the glitch that kept popping up whenever I launched the mobile app, and I made efforts to rerun the app from the start. Time, unusually, seemed to work against me, as dusk eagerly knocked just after dawn. My lectures often suffered as I had to sacrifice time to attend to my software. Kunle and I brainstormed the possible solution to the glitch that kept popping up, even though he was not technologically inclined.

"I think you should take a nap; sleep has a way of resetting the brain. Perhaps you could find your way around this when you are much rested." Kunle responded, pushing the laptop away from my grip. He patted me on my shoulder, urging me to stand up from the plastic chair that I have been glued to for hours, not wanting to do anything as much as eat or drink. Grudgingly, I stood to my feet, and like a log of wood tossed on the ground, I fell with a thump on his mattress, burying my head in his duvet. It was already 8:45 p.m., and I hoped to get some hours of sleep right before my multiple alarms started nagging at me. My phone beeped barely ten minutes after I laid down, and a slight nudge in me prompted me to swipe my phone to view the notification. It was an email message, and I lazily accessed it only to read a message from "Africa's under-30 tech competition, notifying me of their regrettable reschedule of the proposed pitch that was supposed to hold in 48 hours, Saturday to be precise. A part of me was disappointed, while another larger part was grateful I had extra time to work on the software.

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That very night, I disabled my alarms and had a good night's sleep, enjoying the bliss of postponed glory. The following morning, I went early to my hostel on campus after being served breakfast by Kunle, and I prepared for lectures. As final-year students, we had few classes, and I needed to make up for lost time. Kunle was to meet me up at school, but by noon, he sent me a message that he needed to attend to an urgent occasion over the weekend at his family's house, which was about a two-hour journey from where we were. Since Kunle was going to be away for the weekend, I decided to stay back in my room on campus, catching up on my lost academic tracks.

The following day, at sunset, when dusk beckoned, I took a stroll through the school's walkway, enjoying the gentle breeze and flat grass beautifully mowed and spread across the school field. My phone chimed, and I opened my SMS inbox to see a congratulatory message from Africa's under-30 tech competition for being the winner of the annual competition. Confusion and shock hastily settled upon me, wondering how I had participated in a competition that was rescheduled. What surprised me, however, was the name I was addressed with, "Kunle Afolayan", which happened to coincide with my childhood friend. I stood there frozen and speechless, trying to comprehend what was going on. I scrolled through my contacts and dialed Kunle's number, but it kept dropping as I dialed the digits. "Please call me back, Kunle." I sent him a text, which I waited for, like, forever, without a response.

I went online just to realize the competition event was actually held that day, and with Kunle's unavailability, I began to put the mathematics together. I had just gotten my dream snatched from me right under my nose by my most trusted childhood friend, Kunle. Apparently, the email was fabricated, and he must have submitted my software app as his. "Could he have drugged me, or was it while I slept?" I thought, my head banging profusely. I logged in to the site and saw Kunle in my place, defending my hard work and being awarded $100,000 as the winner of the competition. My head was heavy all through as I hoped to wake up from the dream, and pinching my skin confirmed I had been played. My walk to my hostel was slow and unsteady, as though I would collapse at any instance. I could not sleep that night, and I kept dialing Kunle's number, yet to no avail.

"I'm sorry I stole your dream, Femi; I'm sure you can develop another piece of software. Goodbye!" Kunle said over the phone when he eventually called back, hardly giving me the opportunity to say anything. My world quickly became bleak and dark, days turning into weeks and into months with no sign of Kunle. His parents could not get across to him either, and all my efforts to reach him proved abortive.

It's been a year since Kunle dubiously stole my dream, and I had managed to put the pieces of my life together, being careful not to disclose to any third party that which I was working on. I was done with college and had all the time to develop a new piece of software. The company I partnered with offered me $500, 000 for my new software, which I was in the final stages of consenting to. A strange number reached out to me, and I was surprised to hear Kunle's voice.

"Hello brother, been a while." He said, and his tone, which I noticed was low,

"Yeah, it's been a while." I replied unexcitedly.

"Are you in town?"

"Depends on why you're asking."

"I know you hate me, and you have every right, but I'm sorry, and I need your help with your software. The glitch keeps popping up, and investors have threatened to stop further..."

I did not let him complete his statement before I ended the call. I felt no remorse and faced my new dream. "He stole the dream, and he has to wander in it." I thought to myself, signing my new contract.