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 3

They laughed at me. They shook their heads. “Medanna? What kind of name is that? There is no such place here, boy. Move along.”

An old driver told me he had been driving in the state for twenty years and had never once heard the name. My legs ached. My throat was dry. Everyone looked at me like I was losing my mind. But something inside my chest kept pushing me forward.

I did not give up. I kept asking, until I met a man who was also a driver. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and walked up to him. “Excuse me, sir. Please, I am looking for a village. I don’t know if you have heard of it. It is called Medanna.”

He answered immediately. “Ohhh, that’s my village. The place is very, very far. What do you want to do there? The road is not good at all.”

My heart did a wild backflip. My ears started ringing. After weeks of searching, after everyone called me a liar and a dreamer, here was a man confirming it.

“You mean the place exists?” I asked, my voice trembling.

For the first time in three long years, the weight on my chest felt a little lighter. I had finally found someone who knew Medanna.

But as I walked away from that garage, reality hit me. Now the problem was money.

I was just an eighteen-year-old boy living under my uncle’s roof. I had no job. I had no savings. The driver had already warned me the place was far and the road terrible. A journey like that would cost transport money, food money, emergency money.

I knew I could never ask my uncle. If I told him I wanted to travel to Medanna, he would lock me inside the room, or worse.

That night I could not sleep. I paced the small room. “What do I do?” I whispered to myself. “My mother is crying out for me every night. I cannot let money stop me. I have to go.”

My eyes fell on my uncle’s door. I knew where he kept his shop returns, inside an old brown leather bag on top of his wardrobe.

It was a terrible thought. But I was desperate.

I took the risk. I stole a little money from my uncle, and that morning, before the sun rose, I sneaked out.

The house was completely quiet at 4:30 a.m. when I tiptoed into the parlor, reached for the bag with trembling hands, and took just enough money for my transport fare. I did not pack a heavy bag, just a small nylon with one extra shirt. Before the sun could rise, I was already standing at the bus park, waiting for the driver.

When the driver saw me, he looked surprised. “Ah, young boy, you are really serious about this journey o. Do you have your transport fare?”