It was a dry cold harmattan night, and because he was aversed to cold weather conditions he went to bed in a heavily-cottoned blue-colored tracksuit whose top had a hoodie to keep himself relatively warm. The day had been beautiful and eventful. He had gone about his lectures normally and attended the usual fellowship activities. After a good supper, he had his quiet time and laid down trying to remind himself of some difficult aspects of a particular lecture of a certain course so the details could stick in his memory as he sometimes does whenever he comes across a volatile course or subject.
The noise of roommates began to thin out, his eyes began to grow dim, and he soon fell into a deep sleep. He didn’t realize how long this has been since he was used to sleeping peacefully. After all, he is a young man. There’s nothing to worry about. There’s no concern for wife or kids, his only concern is how to get good grades and serve Christ effectively.
But suddenly, he was awake and quite conscious of his surroundings, which seemed alien to him.
Everywhere was dark except for some shades of infrared rays which were occasional flashes of never-dying embers from the chasm whose origin was not yet defined. It was such darkness that can make anyone blackout. But somehow, the will and strength to trudge through it were inexplicably there. One moved against one’s own will and strength. There seems to be a restraining palpable force that governed this adventure.
It wasn’t like the usual rendezvous with friends that mummy and daddy were oblivious of. At least one is certain of the end. But here, an invisible wind that is neither hot nor cold pushes you to an unknown place. The fear was palpable and disgusting.
Dark figures moved in the dark. Some floated, and others walked and crawled. Sometimes they disappeared as soon as they appeared like ghosts on a surveillance mission. The silhouettes were eerie in shape and size. Some had the appearance of disembodied garments bent in the form of an old woman who supported her fragile frame on a crooked cane, all bent over. Others bore the semblance of weird creatures that can only be imagined in a fairy tale.
On finding himself in this weird place, he was greeted by an unearthly silence, so much so that he could hear his heartbeats as clearly as one would hear the sound of a thunderclap. The only difference was the absence of lightning which was a luxury whenever it appeared. At such rare moments, an inmate is about to be released.
There is no way to tell that this wasn’t a real-life event, and he’s the lead actor therein. In the past, he had written stories, and taken up fictitious roles in them. But this is neither a movie nor an imagination. He was actually on his way to hell.
The realization dawned on him as the place began to get hotter and hotter, that he was an unready inmate at the gates of hell despite his screams and yells which no one seemed to care about.
A place of imaginary stairways with surreal foot holds which have no end. One simply climbed down against one’s will and strength steadily until one enters a large chamber that seemed like an endless hall that sank steadily. He felt goaded down paths that looks unreal by an invisible suctioning power. It was a struggle between reality and illusion. The stench was odious and foul.
It’s like entering a vacuum where one is stifled and gagged. There is no air. One simply breathed non-existent air which is enough to keep one moving. There, there’s no thought about food or convenience except the desire for freedom.
In the struggle between the suctioning force and his resistance, he noticed that if one could lay hold of salt, and place it on the ground beneath one’s feet, instead of sinking further down like lead in a miry bog, the ground became firm enough to hold one’s weight, and prevent one from going down. Along with others, he searched frantically for salt- the antidote for sinking into the depths of hell.
There, all manner of thoughts ran amuck in his mind. In that state of mental restiveness, the awareness of his environment was as keen as ever. He did not only see but also felt the pains and agonies of others apart from his own which stuck on him like a limpet.
The horror was palpable, and the fear was lucid.
Right there, and then, he realized he was truly in hell, the abode of demons and every hideous creature. His eyes rotated to and fro like a scanner or CCTV camera that has been programmed to move in all directions. This is eternity. But then, must he spend it in hell? How did he get here in the first instance? He asked himself curiously. The answer came as a thought. “Oh, have I died in my sleep?”
He perished the thought. But, here he lay, trapped in an odd world. His fate has been sealed, so he thought. “How can I be here?” he asked himself. For the first time, he understood what it means to be lost- lost in eternity.
He shook himself wildly but all to no avail. The more he struggled, the more the descent into the everlasting pit. He wasn’t alone in this entanglement. Myriads of screams from lost humanity reverberated through the whole world and swallowed his. It was the deafening sounds of lost souls in hell. Unfortunately, they could not be heard by a world that is lost in revels and debauchery.
He screamed hysterically along with the host of other captives in hell. His screams were like those of a thousand people, and yet nobody seemed to hear or care; and even if they did, what can they do? A drowning man can not save another drowning man. It’s everyone to his fate. He imagined that the same thing must have been going through the minds of all the other unfortunate souls that have been trapped in this eternal dungeon.
“But I am born again”, he wailed.” How can I be here”? He questioned repeatedly. “Oh, that this might be a dream”, he sincerely wished. He was in the region of the dead without being lowered down into a grave in a befitting casket for a burial ceremony.
Suddenly, a white boy of about ten years in age, and clad in white apparel appeared at the entrance of the ever-descending pit. He bent down, stretched his hand, and reached out to him out of the sea of lost humanity. How his hand was able to reach such an immeasurable depth remains a mystery. As soon as he appeared all eyes turned in his direction from hell, in anticipation of his help.
It’s like, in hell, one saw what went on in the outside world.
He reached out his hand as well. Under the full grasp of the white boy’s hand, he was hurled effortlessly out of the pit of hell. He felt like a drowning man being pulled out of a deep ocean. As soon as he landed on the earth’s surface, he took to his heels and sped away with the speed of lightning, a speed which he could never attain in the natural. It started with him gathering momentum after momentum until it looked like some sort of machine was attached to his locomotive muscles. Like a bionic man, he ran with the take-off speed of an airplane on a runway. All the other people in hell started shouting after him, “Please come and help us too”. That phrase kept on echoing after him. It’s like the cries of those people were running with him in the wind as he ran.
He felt as if all the inmates of hell have attached themselves to the wind as he spirited away.
“I can’t go back there”, he told himself as he ran. He kept on running with such immense speed that he ran into reality; after breaking all gravitational pull from hell just as an airplane takes off into outer space after overcoming the initial force of inertia, friction, and then ultimately, the force of gravity. He broke through the interface between the spiritual world and the physical realm and awoke immediately in the land of the living.
There is a level of speed that you must reach to break into the supernatural from the natural. The reverse order is also possible. It takes superhuman speed or effort to break into the physical realm from the realm of the dead. Sleep is a kind of death. Unless God wakes you up you can sleep on for eternity, confined to your physical body, still breathing and living if only medical aid is promptly applied. Many have been known to die in their sleep. They are unable to tell their tales among the living. Had this writer died in his sleep, he wouldn’t have had the privilege of sharing his story with the world- the story of hell.
This writer has prayed for someone who fell into a sleep coma for many days. All the best efforts of his people and medical experts to wake him up were to no avail until Jesus stepped in when he began to pray for him. In truth, Jesus is the Lord in all realms including the realm of the grave.
“Verily, verily, I say unto you, The hour is coming, and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God: and they that hear shall live”. Jn.5:25.
The appearance of that white boy changed his story. He might not have woken up from his sleep if not for divine intervention by the hand of that boyish angel who exuded such awe and aura that the forces of darkness couldn’t handle. Of a truth, darkness cannot handle the presence of light.
When the light came, he stopped drowning in that pit. He was lifted out and set upon a plain ground. Superhuman speed was given to his locomotive muscles.
“Ah! So, it’s a dream, a nightmare. What kind of dream is this? He soliloquized while gasping for breath. His heart was beating madly. How long he’d been in that dream state, he couldn’t tell.
Who is this white boy? Is he an angel? How did his hands reach into such an infinite depth? These and several other questions raced through his mind as he realized that he had been sweating profusely. The heat of hell is intense beyond human imagination.
On waking, he pulled off his now-drenched tracksuit and started squeezing sweat out of it. He was inhaling air like a man who had been oxygen-starved for God knows how long.
In answer to one of his questions, he heard the unmistakable voice of God. ” I took you to hell so you can know the reality of hell, to warn mankind and prevent as many people as possible from going there. I will require the blood of everyone in that pit from your hands unless you preach repentance to them”.
It was still early, about 3 am. After completely stripping himself, he proceeded to mop his sweat-soaked body with his bathroom towel which also became drenched in the process. “No, no one’s blood will be required at my hand”, he muttered to himself while speaking in tongues frantically. He took his small Bible and hurried out into the dark. The first cock has just crowed a little while ago.
