Do you recall those childhood days when you played in the sand without a care in the world? Or the times you played in the rain, ignorant of the consequences that came with catching a cold? And the only person who scolded you all that time was your mother.

Your only care in the world was those childhood dreams and fantasies you obsessed over—especially during Christmas when your uncle from Lagos visited with his family. Their children wore the finest outfits and shiny shoes, and from afar, you could tell they cost a fortune. They would come blabbering about the city, bringing tales that made you long to see and explore this wonderful and colorful place.

Your childhood dreams became filled with these city tales, so much so that you even named the city the "City of Dreams." Before your uncle left after last Christmas, he promised to take you there if you performed excellently well in your WASSCE and JAMB. With your childhood fantasies in mind, you worked tirelessly, both in school and at home. Your parents praised you, your teachers sang tales of your success, and your classmates envied you.

What no one realized was that you were putting in so much effort just so you could go to your childhood dream city—Lagos. Your dream seemed far off, but you were patient until the long-awaited day arrived. You had checked your results the previous week and performed exceptionally well. You earned 8 As and a B in your WASSCE and scored 390 in your JAMB. It was a moment of joy for your parents and teachers, but even more so for you. You didn't waste time before hurriedly phoning your uncle to share the good news.

He was so thrilled that he not only paid for your transportation to the city but also gave you some money to spend. The day had finally arrived, and you hadn't slept a wink the previous night because you were too busy fantasizing about what life in the city would be like. You had packed all your belongings with the help of your mother, who seemed reluctant to let you go. But your mind was made up.

You were traveling alone, and you wanted it to be fun. Thankfully, you had saved enough money for the trip, and your parents had even added more. As you boarded the bus to your City of Dreams, a huge smile was plastered on your face—you were just a few cities away from achieving your dream.

On the bus, you sat next to an elderly man who seemed deeply engrossed in the newspaper he held.

"Good morning, sir," you greeted politely, just as your parents had taught you.

"Young lady, how do you do?" he replied without taking his eyes off the newspaper.

"I'm very fine, sir. And you?" you responded, but it seemed he had found something that piqued his interest in the paper because he didn't reply.

You casually shrugged it off and looked out the window. You were lucky enough to get a window seat. You didn’t have an Android phone—your parents didn’t think it was necessary at that stage. They had just given you a button phone so you could reach your uncle once you arrived.

Throughout the journey, you purchased anything that looked appealing to your stomach. You ate so much that you eventually had to beg the driver to stop so you could relieve yourself. You could still recall the sharp look the driver threw at you and his incoherent mumbling. The elderly man beside you chuckled at your nonchalant attitude.

"If you still have this attitude after spending two or three months in Lagos, then you're strong," he said when you returned to the bus.

You didn’t understand what he meant, nor did you care.

When you arrived in your dream city, unlike other places, Lagos did not welcome you with open arms. Instead, a signboard bluntly read: This is Lagos. The frequent travelers on the bus mumbled, "Shine your eyes," but you, with a big smile, whispered, "The City of Dreams”.

You saw the colorful shops and beautiful places your cousins had mentioned. You were amazed. You experienced the traffic and the constant "Buy this, buy that!" the road hawkers screamed as they darted between cars, promoting their goods.

"So cool," you whispered to yourself.

But little did you know that beneath the city's vibrant surface lay a different reality.

When you arrived at the park, you hurriedly stepped off the bus, taking your luggage with you—a small black mini traveling bag. The park was rowdy, but that didn’t stop you from city-gazing. You admired the sleek cars on the highway and the dazzling shops by the road.

You were too distracted to notice the many eyes watching you.

When you were done taking in the city with your eyes, you turned to pick up your luggage—but it was gone.

The shock on your face was unimaginable when you realized you had been robbed. You screamed and cried, but only a few people were curious about what had happened. Some pitied you, some scolded you, but none tried to help you find your missing luggage.

Luckily, you were smart enough not to put your money bag inside your box.

Just as you took out your button phone to call your uncle, a little boy walked by. His clothes were torn and dirty. He had no shoes on, and he was so thin that a light breeze could have knocked him over.

"Aunty mi, I am hungry," he said, stretching out his right hand while his left hand rubbed his belly.

You took pity on him. You looked through your moneybagg to find something to give him. But with your guard down, another boy ran by and snatched your money bag, disappearing in an instant. The first boy ran after him.

You cursed at them in your dialect.

You wanted to chase after them, but you didn’t know your way around the city. In less than an hour of arriving in Lagos, your dream city had robbed you twice.

Suddenly, you recalled the words of the elderly man on the bus.

You called your uncle twice, but he didn’t pick up. The third time, he finally answered, but the network was terrible, and you couldn’t hear him. As you ended the call to redial, your phone went off.

As if being robbed wasn’t enough, now your phone had died, and you were stranded in a strange land with no idea where to go.

In your mind, you cursed all the city tales you had heard as a child. You wished you could go back home.

You lingered around the park until nightfall, when it was almost empty. A food seller noticed you hiding in a corner and approached. She asked why you were there, and you told her everything that had happened—from the moment you stepped off the bus until now.

She burst into laughter, tears welling in her eyes as she laughed so hard.

Then, she offered to help you find a place to sleep for the night—on one condition. You would have to help her wash the dishes and clean up after she finished selling for the day.

You desperately agreed.

You washed pile after pile of dishes until your hands and back ached. The restaurant closed by 11 p.m., and by the time you both left the park, it was already midnight.

At home, by this time, you would have been deep asleep. But here you were, wide awake, walking through the streets of Lagos with a stranger.

She led you under a big bridge, where it seemed people lived. She took you to her corner. A mat, pillow, and wrapper were stacked neatly in the spot. She spread the mat on the floor, placing the pillow and wrapper on top.

"Manage this. I just moved here a few days ago after my husband sent me out of the house," she explained, noticing your hesitation to lie down.

You were exhausted. Shrugging off your worries, you laid on the mat and dozed off the moment your back touched it.

The next day, when you finally reached your uncle, he scolded you and warned you never to be so careless again. He reminded you that the city wasn’t as glamorous as you had imagined.

Now, years later, as you sit at your office desk, listening to the newly recruited JJC employee blabber about how Lagos was more beautiful than she had ever imagined—how it had always been her dream city—you can’t help but smile, recalling your own experience in this same City of Dreams.