Sooo. I had this weird dream.
Like, “this one na Netflix series” type of weird.
It was the middle of exam season.
I was doing that thing where you open your books, stare for 30 minutes and still don’t understand anything.
I was sipping Lipton like it was battery juice, hoping it would charge my brain.
And then-boom—i slept off.
But in the dream, i was in this bright white room, very futuristic, very……not Unilag.
Then someone walked in.
She had the same face as me.
Same eyes, same nose, even my same signature side-part braid.
But something was off—this version of me looked serious serious.
Like “first class” serious.
She was wearing glasses. Not for fashion. Real nerd glasses.
She smiled and said,
Hi. I’m you-from Universe 7. I’m here to trade lives.
At first, i thought it was the Lipton playing tricks on me.
But she started talking.
She said in her universe, she passed every exam.
Never had missing scripts.
Never got confused in GST.
Lecturers used her assignments as sample answers.
She once finished an exam before they even finished sharing the paper.
But guess what?
She was tired.
She said everything was perfect. Too perfect. No excitement. No late-night gist with roommates. No last minute panic reading
Even Jollof rice didn’t slap the same when you’re never stressed.
She wanted to feel real life-the drama, the pressure, the “God please help me” moments.
So she offered a swap.
Me? I didn’t even think twice. I said “deal” before she finished talking.
THE SWAP
The next morning, i woke up in Universe 7.
Everything was smooth.
The room had AC.
My timetable was organized.
I had 10 unread books on my table—-and i actually understood them.
I didn’t even need to read long.
The moment i ooened a textbook, my brain downloaded it like Wi-fi.
In class, people greeted me like i was a celebrity.
Lecturers nodded at me.One even asked me to explain a theory he just taught.
At first, i was loving it.
But by day 3, things got strange.
Nobody joked in her universe.
Nobody had reading panic.
No gist. No drama. No vibes.
I missed laughing when my friend mispronounced an author’s name.
I missed the nonsense struggle of printing last-minutes notes, assignments and projects.
I even missed arguing with my coursemates over who sits near the fan.
That night, i cried.
Yes, i cried inside a perfect life.
Meanwhile, in my original universe….
She was struggling.
Lipton did nothing.
My friends texted me, “Are you okay?” Because she wasn’t talking much.
She wore Jeans and sneakers to class.
Who told her that’s how we survive Unilag heat?
Wahala.
THE RETURN
By the weekend, she reached out:
“I think I understand now. Your life isn’t perfect, but it’s real. And beautiful”.
We agreed to swap back.
As soon as i opened my eyes in my own bed, i smiled.
There was NEPA light for only 6 minutes, my assignment deadline was still hunting me and i had a test I hadn’t prepared for.
But this time, i wasn’t panicking.
Because i realised something:
LESSON LEARNED?
We all want shortcuts.
We want the life that looks smooth and Instagram-filtered.
But sometimes, it’s the chaos, the late-night gist, the “God abeg” moments that gives our stories flavour.
So now? I still open my books with fear.
I still drink Viju Chocolate for moral support.
But before every study session, I whisper:
“God, even if i forget everything, please don’t let me disgrace my ancestors in this exam”.
