Chinonso Kingsley
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The Lover Who Lived in My Dreams
She wasn’t a supermodel. She didn’t have the kind of face that stopped time or made men trip over their own tongues. But to me, she was unforgettable. Skin like warm earth after rain, eyes deep and dark like unanswered prayers, and a laugh that made the silence afterward feel too loud. She first appeared in a dream when I was seventeen, and somehow, she kept coming back. At first, I thought it was random. A trick of the mind. One of those subconscious mash-ups of faces you’ve seen in passing—a stranger at a bus stop, someone’s cousin at a wedding, an image from a music video. But then she came again. And again. Same full lips, same quiet confidence, same calm presence that made my chest settle. She was never loud, never flashy. But she always felt… necessary. I used to tell my friends about her. They laughed, joked about me watching too many romantic movies, said I needed to get out more. I stopped talking about her after a while. Not because I stopped dreaming about her, but because it felt too personal—like sharing her would somehow make her less mine. In the real world, I dated other women. There were connections, sure. Some good moments, even real feelings. But none of them felt like her. I’d lie in bed after dates, staring at the ceiling, wondering why I missed someone I’d never really met. Some nights, I’d close my eyes just to see if she’d come back. She always did. Not every night, but often enough to feel real. In my dreams, we talked about life. She asked me why I was always running—from love, from failure, from myself. We sat in kitchens with flickering bulbs, walked dusty roads holding hands, shared music and memories that weren’t mine but felt like they could be. She told me she was proud of me once, and I woke up with tears on my pillow. I never even got her name. One night, she didn’t show. Then a week passed. A month. My dreams were filled with randomness—noisy, forgettable scraps. Her absence was a dull ache I couldn’t explain. I missed her in a way I couldn’t talk about without sounding crazy. I felt like someone who’d lost a country he’d never visited, but knew was home. I was 26 when I saw her in real life. Not in a dream. Not in passing. Real, breathing, alive. She walked into the small bookstore downtown where I’d been helping out on weekends. Wore a simple burgundy dress, hair tied in a loose bun. No makeup. Just her. She wasn’t exactly the same—her nose was a bit narrower, her smile a little crooked—but everything else… the feel of her? That was unchanged. She looked at me. Paused. “Do I know you?” she asked. I wanted to say, I’ve known you my whole life. But I just smiled and said, “Not yet.” Her name was Ujunwa. She was studying social work, loved old books and hated sweet coffee. We sat and talked for an hour that first day. I didn’t tell her about the dreams. Not then. But I knew it in my bones—this wasn’t coincidence. This was convergence. Falling for her in real life was different. Messier. No dream sequences. No perfect timing. She had doubts, moods, and a stubborn streak that could stretch for miles. But God, she was real. And with her, so was I. Maybe the woman in my dreams was never meant to be a fantasy. Maybe she was a guide—an echo of what was waiting if I stayed open long enough, patient enough, alive enough to notice. The lover who lived in my dreams taught me how to hope. The woman who walked into that bookstore? She’s teaching me how to stay.
By Chinonso Kingsley8 months ago in Fiction
7 Ways to Turn Heartbreak into Power
Heartbreak is a highly personal experience. No matter whether it has been brought on by a sudden break-up, betrayal, or failed engagement, the emotional hurt can be debilitating. In most cultures—Nigeria not being an exception—there is often pressure to "get over it" quickly or to hide your pain for the sake of appearances. But the truth is, you don’t have to stay broken. With the right mindset and steps, heartbreak can become a stepping stone to personal power. Here are seven real, research-backed ways to turn your pain into purpose, drawing from experiences familiar to people both in Nigeria and beyond. 1. Allow Yourself to Feel and Heal In cultures where strength is mistaken for silence, it's easy to suppress emotions. But healing starts with honesty. Let yourself cry, journal, pray, or reflect. Whether you’re in Lagos, Nairobi, London, or Atlanta—emotions are universal. Don’t let society rush your process. As the Yoruba proverb says, “ọjọ́ kan kò mọ'gbón ṣe” (wisdom doesn't come in one day). Take your time. Healing is strength. 2. Cut Off Contact and Cleanse Your Space Delete that number. Unfollow them. Remove shared photos or gifts. Your environment has power over your emotions. Many people—whether in Enugu or Edmonton—find peace through spiritual or emotional cleansing. This could mean prayer, therapy, a solo trip, or simply rearranging your room. Create a new atmosphere that reflects your future, not your past. 3. Reconnect with Your Identity Heartbreak has the ability to erase your sense of self. Go back to your origins—whatever that may be for you, whether that's time with your family, getting lost in your culture, or grounding yourself spiritually. In many African cultures, it was said by the elders: "What happens to a man also happens to a woman." Heartbreak is not a lack—it's human. Retake your sense of self. 4. Channel Pain into Purpose Heartbreak has inspired music, businesses, books, and careers. Turn that pain into fuel. A woman in Port Harcourt used her canceled wedding funds to launch a catering business. Today, she runs a thriving restaurant. Whether it’s launching a side hustle, returning to school, or writing your story—create something meaningful from your experience. 5. Give Attention to Your Physical and Mental Health This is your cue to prioritize self-care. Get to the gym, walk far distances, eat healthily, hydrate, sleep more. Mental well-being is no different—talk to a therapist, counselor, or trusted friend. In cities such as Abuja, Nairobi, or New York, mental wellness support groups are becoming increasingly popular. Healing isn't just emotional—it's holistic. 6. Build a Support Network Pain grows louder in isolation. Reach out to friends, family, or support communities. From WhatsApp groups in Lagos to healing circles in Johannesburg or online forums in Canada—people everywhere are choosing to heal together. Find your tribe. Talk. Share. Listen. Let others remind you that you’re not alone. 7. Reinvent Yourself Let this be the chapter where you reintroduce yourself to the world. Switch careers. Learn a skill. Relocate. Change your wardrobe. Start a new routine. Glow up on your terms. One woman said, “This pain birthed my power.” Let your heartbreak shape a newer, stronger version of you—one who rises, not despite the pain, but because of it. Final Thoughts Heartbreak doesn’t have to be the end of your story—it can be the beginning of your evolution. Whether you're in Nigeria or anywhere else in the world, your pain is valid, but it doesn’t define you. With each step you take toward healing, you reclaim your power. You are not weak. You are not broken. You are rising. Let your heartbreak be the spark that ignites your greatest comeback.
By Chinonso Kingsley8 months ago in Families
The Day I Chose Myself Over My Family
In a typical Nigerian home, especially as the first son, your life is not your own. From the moment you can walk, you’re told to "lead by example," to "make the family proud." What they really mean is: sacrifice yourself for everyone else.
By Chinonso Kingsley8 months ago in Families
