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After a week, I had a dream: I was having intercourse with a dark complexioned man. He was about 6 feet, 5 inches tall. His face I couldn’t recognize. I work up tired and sweating profusely with pains all round my waist.
I checked the time. It was just 2:00am. I was disturbed because I remembered that back at home, evert of the few times I had picked up a dream book to read, I had come across dreams like the one I just had in that book. Dreams like this meant a bad omen—So suggested the book.


I thought that was all . But it was just a tip of an iceberg.
The urge doubled, especially when I sat. The only time I don’t feel this urge was when I stood. Sitting became my problem. Even while in Church, as long as I was seated, urge will surely arise. At times, I tried fighting it, but it kept coming up stronger. To make matter worse, I copulate in my dreams with different strange men still having the same physique with the first man in my dream and this occurs twice a week—Mondays and Fridays. It has been so for the past 3weeks. And every time I woke up, the pains were around my waist.
I was no longer finding it funny, but I never stopped polishing the pearls.


I was now in the second semester of my first year, “should I confide in the prayer coordinator concerning my dreams?” (The prayer coordinator was a female) “Who knows if she might be of help?” I was patiently waiting for the next prayer meting in fellowship.

I was on my way down to fellowship for the prayer meeting. I had my turban firmly tied. My turban was so steady that it had the likeness of a local market rice—measuring Kongo. I saw two sisters on the way, and I greeted them. They answered graciously. And I quickly walked past them because I planned to see the prayer coordinator before the commencement if the service.
But something happened as I took some few steps away. These sisters were busy discussing someone . They were carried away as they were almost shouting at the top of their voice as they conversed. I slowed down a bit and began eavesdropping into their discussion.
Suddenly, the two sisters jammed both thier hands in the air—a classic sort of high five. I got curious. I desired that they mention the subject of the matter.
What caught my attention was when one of then said ” I was told by someone in her department. ” I wondered as the second sister asked, “which of the excos did her departmental mate speak about?”


Response: “The prayer coordinator. Her departmental mate said she’s a cheat, a gossip, and to make matter worse, she’s covetous. As long as she gossips, lying will be her other hobby, which makes devil her patron.”
“Really?” The other sister opened her mouth in awe.
This perplexed me, and immediately I turn back to the hostel. I began to think if I should tell my secret predicament to the prayer coordinator, the whole congregation would her about me next week, including those who crushed on me. This would spoil my reputation and make people desert me.


I was down in tears. There was no confidant, no one to talk to.
Then a question popped up into my heart: ” is it my addiction to polishing the pearls that caused sex in my dreams?” If yes, I couldn’t stop —because I was addicted. And my addiction as become so critical that I must practise it daily. So I planned waiting for session break; it was around the corner. I would have to discuss this with my mum.


Exams were over. And the end-of-session break finally came. Now it was set time to let the cat out of the bag. The home journey if 1hour 30minutes seemed to last for a month. I finally got home and was lavished with affection. After an hour or two, mum got busy with her business again.
I felt like pouring out all that was in me but no one was ready to listen. It was time to go to bed but I didn’t want to sleep. It was on Monday! And Mondays were always a day for the usual sex in the dream. My eyes were wide opened.
Was I able to stay awake all night?

To be Continue..




EPISODE FIVE(Final Episode)_*

I had a neighbour screaming. It was 1:00am. Everyone in our house was startled out of sleep. It was a robbery operation. A part of me was happy because it was, well, a chance for me to talk with my mum.
Fortunately, I was able to call my mum into my room. I told her everything that had been happening recently except for the polishing of pearls.
All my mum could say was “Blood of Jesus” Then she told me that we would both meet with the pastor as early as 7:00am that morning. I agreed . My eyes were wide opened till 6:00am. We had family devotion and the necessary things that needed to be done were quickly attended to.


At last we arrived at the pastor’s place. I was told to explain all that happened and I did explain. But I again kept silence on the secret act I do indulge in.
The next question my pastor asked was ” Do you indulge in any form of immortality? ”
I was confident while answering him. My response was “NO”.
Then my pastor said, ” it’s not only sexual intercourse that means sexual immorality. Are you involved in acts like viewing smut, polish the pearls and the likes? ”
I was shocked when I heard that. Still confused, I responded “Yes”.
Then my pastor asked, ” which one of you indulge in?”


“Polishing the pearls,” I said. “But the speaker never told me that it was an immoral act.” I was talking childishly, and my mum was just staring at me.
Who’s the speaker? My mum asked.
Then I explained in details to her. After which my pastor told me that I had to book an appointment with him for a deliverance session. He said the speaker was from the pit of hell and her mission was to bring confusion on earth by painting bad things as good and vice versa.
I was immediately counselled and was told to come back for deliverance session.


It was the D-day for the deliverance. The session took hours. It was a real battle ground. No retreat, no surrender! Before the deliverance session was over. I felt that something left my body. It was done. “It’s over” declared the pastor.
Upon returning home, I felt light. Days passed. And I had no experience of sex in the dream, yet this urge did persist. But I learnt to discipline myself.
Behold, I suddenly found myself in the act again. I ran down to my mum and told her about it. That same day, I was led to Christ and I became my mum special mentee.


Before resuming the next session, my mum taught me how to hear God’s voice and how to walk in the Spirit.
I once craved for growth. But instead of the real me growing, the weed in me grew daily. I didn’t know that growing in the presence of God daily was the utmost growth any man could ever crave for.



_A special note to speakers: when invited to a programme and you know for sure that you won’t add value to the participants, please decline the invitation because anything you say at an event can either make or mar your audience.

All to the Glory of God

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