It was about 07:30 when he last checked the clock, he realised he was already running late. School started at 07:45 and Mpendulo would arrive any minute for their 40 minute walk to school, but he too was running late. He had to be quick to save some of the time that was already wasted by an untimed, yet delightful dream.

It was in a world unfamiliar to him but not strange. He felt safe as he lay on the somewhat evergreen piece of land that seemed to be a floating surface above ground, steadily elevating to the clouds. He couldn’t have been more certain that Andile felt safe too as she lay on his chest and cuddled in his comfortable arms. That’s when he heard a sound of a fading voice, filtering through into his subconscious.

“Wake up, you are late. The alarm rang until it stopped. You must take that laptop back to its owner if it’s going to interfere with you waking up on time for school. Rather borrow it on weekends.”

He never saw the end of it, but the dream was significant and vivid enough for him to have grasped its meaning. And if destiny could have it, that was the state in which he would remain for eternity.

He sprung from the bed and flew to the bathroom, a glow in the eyes and a shimmering smile on his face. His face beamed, his mood escalating throughout his preparation. It seemed he was to miss his breakfast if he did not submit himself to the struggle of buttoning his shirt with one hand and grabbing a bite with the other. He had to be careful not to trip over his untied shoelaces as he hastened down from preparing his breakfast on the table. Then he dashed between finding a shoe brush in the cupboard drawer, to looking for the mop behind the door.

“Slow down now,” warned his mother. “You know how slippery this floor is, one moment you are on your two feet the next your forehead is against the floor.”

She stood by the door area that separated the kitchen from the small dining room. Wrapped in her silk night gown, she was elegantly dragging on a cigarette. A cloud of smoke filled the kitchen each time she exhaled.

“And go clean up the mess that you left in my bathroom,” she disappeared into the passage that led to the rest of the house.

“Mama, haven’t you seen my belt?”

“No, I haven’t, how would I know where your belt is?” She responded from another room.

“I was just asking, I didn’t say you knew where it was,” defiance crept from beneath his words and his voice.

His mother returned to stand where she stood before, leaning on her shoulder against the frame of the wall.

“The next time you talk to me like that I will hit you with that ash tray, I’m telling you. I told you many times to stop talking to me like I’m one of your friends.” She spoke very casually and politely, as someone who was giving friendly advice.

There was a knock on the door.

“That must be Mpendulo,” he hurried through the thin gust of cigarette smoke, and past his mother to his bedroom.

Hurrying back with his school bag, he grabbed another slice of buttered bread from the tray on the table then dashed towards the door.

“Whoa, wait!” Exclaimed his mother, “Just a minute!” She hurried into her bedroom and returned after a moment. “Here,” she held out folded notes. “It’s R350, pass by the mall on your way back and buy yourself some school shoes. I don’t want to see you going to school in those tekkies again, I don’t care if they are black.”

She squeezed the remaining cigarette between her thumb and index finger, then placed it on a small zinc container that served as an ash tray.

“Thank you, Mama.” He snatched the money from his mother. “I will!”

***

Tell us: Have you been late because of a sweet dream? What was it?