My Mother Died Three Years Ago—But Every Night She Appeared in My Dreams Begging Me to Find Her in a Forgotten Village Called Medanna… Then I Discovered the Truth

Chapter 2

I was just eighteen years old. Young. Confused. My heart was heavy with the weight of that terrible dream. The image of my mother crying in that strange place refused to leave my head. I knew I could not carry this alone anymore.

One morning, my uncle was sipping his hot tea in the parlor. I gathered my courage and walked up to him. My hands were shaking. “Uncle,” I called softly, standing by the door. “Please, I need to talk to you about something important. It is about my late mother.”

My uncle stopped his tea midway. His face hardened instantly. “What about her? She has been gone for three years, Joshua. Let the dead rest.”

“But Uncle, she is not resting,” I said, stepping closer. “Every single night, I see her. She is crying and begging me to come to a strange village. She says she is dying there. The place is called Medanna.”

The moment that word left my mouth, my uncle’s face turned red. He slammed his teacup down so hard the tea spilled everywhere. He hissed and told me never to mention that nonsense again.

“Are you losing your mind?!” he shouted, glaring at me. “Since three years, which village is that? Where in the world is any place called Medanna? Your mother is dead and buried! Stop bringing these ghost stories into my house!”

His words hit me like a slap. I went back to my room and locked the door. I sat on the floor and thought about everything. My uncle was an elder. He sounded so sure. Maybe he was right. Maybe my mind was only playing tricks on me because I missed her too much.

I told myself I would let it go. I would forget it. I would focus on my life.

But the dream kept coming. Same words. Same village. Same broken voice.

This time, I made a decision. I knew my uncle would not help me. I had to find the truth myself.

The next afternoon, I walked down to the busiest junction in town. The sun was hot, but I did not care. I asked okada riders. I asked bus drivers. I asked conductors loading passengers. “Please, sir, do you know a village called Medanna? Have you ever taken anyone there?”