Loundah: But He Was a Perfect Gentleman- The Untold story

Loundah: But He was a Perfect Gentleman - The untold story.

It’s been many years since I prayed so earnestly to release myself of this burden that so gruesomely weighs upon me. I cannot help myself as I knelt down between the pews in the church, my eyes fixed on the crucifixion sightlessly.
Unconsciously, my heart was reaching out to him; I could see him walking down the aisle, his arm stretched out to take mine, his smile, infectiously reaching over the pew to me. As I put out my hand to grab his outstretched hand, I felt a gulf springing up between us and a mist from the gorge rose up and seemed to engulf him. When the mist became clear, he has vanished with it into a tiny air.
“Timi,” I called out to the evaporating mist, my voice echoing with a reverberating crescendo, fading away into the gloomy emptiness.

I came awake with a start, almost falling out of the bed where I was stretched out, fully dressed. The room was in complete darkness, and for a brief moment, I was all but foggy and disoriented.
Oh, I was preparing for a Friday night vigil at the Church. I jumped out from the bed, reached out to the switch and put on the light. I looked at my bedside clock; the time was 10:45 pm. I reached out to pick the key of the car on my bedside locker and then saw my face in the mirror.
I could see my hair all ruffled out, almost falling over my face and ears. My eyes were bloodshot, almost popping out from their sockets. There were lines drawn all over my face. I Picked up the comb and ran it through my hair, brushing them to the back and packed them into a dovetail behind my back.
But as I bent to take my make-up bag to smoothen my face, I saw Timi’s image floating back to me as it was in the dream. He was dressed up in a brown suit on top of a white linen shirt, with a red bow-tie.
I could see his smile, with the dimple on his cheek. I did not hear what he was saying, but yet, I felt I heard his deep baritone voice calling out my name; Loundah.
I shook my head vigorously, attempting to shake off his image in my head. But Timi would not go away. I have been trying doing that for the many years I have not seen him, but it was not possible. I could feel his presence all around me, everywhere I go.
I will find you, Timi, I said to myself. Even if it was the last thing I have to do, I will do it.

I looked at the clock hanging behind the Pastor’s chair. It was 4 a.m. I could hear the Choir playing some worship songs; the sound drifting into the office from the auditorium.
“Okay, Sister Loundah, how frequent have you been having these dreams?” the Pastor asked.
“They were always been there, only the interval of their frequency has become rather high of late.” I looked up at him.
Pastor Idowu Adeoye would be in his late 50s, a dark complexioned man with a broad face and the slice of the tribal marks of the Yoruba race are well pronounced on both side of his cheek. He has just rounded up the officiating of the vigil. I could see the strain of that on his face.
I noticed that it was not telling on him as he sat there counseling the members, one after the other, like a father talking to his wayward children.
I looked around the office; a very spacious hall with a big table at the far right side for the pastor, with two chairs arranged in front, and the pastor’s chair; a revolving leather chair behind the table where the Pastors was sitting now counseling me.
There were a number of plastic chairs arranged at the far left side of the hall as one comes in through the door in front. Some other members who want to see the pastor were waiting there.
“Who is Timi, and what is your relationship with him?”
“That is the problem. It is a long story,” I said looking at him.
“Can you briefly explain to me about him so we should know what to pray for or pray against?”
“Em…Pastor, if there is anything we should pray about, it is for Timi, and not against,” he raised his eyes brows to look at me. “He was someone I felt in love with some ten years ago when I was in College. But we were unable to push our relationship further before events wrenched us apart. this is what happened. http://typotic.com/i/but-he-was-a-perfect-gentleman-3/.