Ndoto za Wafu: How My Nightmares of the Dead Nearly Destroyed Me — Until I Was Saved
My name is Aisha, and my torment began when I was 19. I started having vivid dreams of dead relatives calling my name. At first, I dismissed them as imagination. But the dreams became intense. I would see my late grandmother standing at the edge of my bed. I would wake up screaming, drenched in sweat.
Soon, I began sleepwalking. My mother once found me outside at 2 a.m., standing silently in the compound. I could not remember how I got there. My performance at university in Nairobi dropped drastically. Friends avoided sleeping over because I talked in strange voices at night.
Doctors said it was stress. Others said it was trauma. But deep down, I felt something heavier. Out of fear, my parents took me to a doctor known for helping people facing spiritual disturbances. I was skeptical but desperate.
The sessions involved intense prayer, cleansing rituals, and confronting unresolved grief from my grandmother’s sudden death. I realized I had never properly mourned her. The nightmares slowly reduced. Within weeks, I could sleep through the night.
The final dream I had of my grandmother was different. She smiled and walked away into bright light. I woke up calm.
Today, I am stable, working as a counselor helping others facing night terrors. What once haunted me became the reason I now understand others’ pain.
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