Miss Me

It was raining cats and dogs when I bumped into her. I was immediately beholden. My future literally stood in front of me!

How??? Was any of this real???

She smiled, and I stood dumbstruck, befuddled. It couldn’t have been more awkward if I’d been transported to another realm.

She beckoned me to follow her. That was when I noticed the car beside us. Me? Vanessa? On my way to work? No way was I leaving with a stranger even though she looked exactly like me.

I shook my head no, thanked her, and proceeded to move along.

“I have the answers to the questions you’ve been asking for the past ten years. Don’t you want to be out of your misery?”

Those words stopped me cold. Who was this person? Where did she come from? The future? Again, was any of this real???

I looked around us. People were carrying on like any regular Monday in Lagos, Nigeria: faces forward, hurried steps towards their daily bread.

I should have been among them, but this conundrum was too complex and intriguing to ignore.

I sized her up, from her slinky heels to the well-tailored attire and coiffed updo, just like I’d imagined future me would look. And I knew I was either getting a query from work or getting killed by someone who looked like me.

I quickly shot off a text to my boss to say I’d be late, then agreed to follow Miss Me. We settled into the car, and she gave the driver my exact work address.

She winked at my shocked expression, and I heard my own laugh come out of her glossy lips.

“Who are you?” I blurted.

Folding her arms, still holding a lingering smile, she replied, “I am you.”

No, that didn’t make sense.

“How is that possible? I’m not a twin. I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

She snickered.
“Yes, you’re still alive. Regardless of that, I am you. You said you needed help and I’m here to offer as much guidance as possible. I see your thoughts, you’re almost giving up, your future is too bright to think dark thoughts about yourself and others. I’m here to help.”

I was speechless. Was this an intervention from God? Was He coming to my rescue?

Finally, I found my voice, although it was shaky…
“How do you know? How do you know my thoughts? Are you from the future? Did God send you?”

“Vanessa,” she began.

“Fear took hold of you years ago. Some days it disappears, some days it returns with force and you can barely breathe. But haven’t you noticed? With all the dark pictures you’ve painted, you’re alive. Breathing. A joy to people around you, except yourself.

“You’ve been holding yourself back for as long as we can both remember. You set limits only you can see, while others wonder why you haven’t soared. They see you, but you can’t see yourself. You’re too busy living through other people’s experiences, forgetting that you were put here to live your own story, not theirs.

“Their stories of failure, pain, heartbreak, bitterness, humiliation, aren’t yours. Don’t write yourself off before you’ve even lived. I’m begging you, live!”

She shook my shoulders, and I crumpled like paper.

I began to cry. How many times had I told myself to live my life and let go of other people’s experiences? What life was I living when I didn’t have any original thoughts, only the thoughts of people, ruling and shaping my life.

As if she heard my thoughts, she wrapped her arms around me.

“I know you, Vanessa. With all my heart, I wish you’d give yourself and God a chance, so you can live out His plans for you. They’re beautiful, rare, more than you can think or imagine.”

I nodded, wiping my face. I could have rested on her shoulder all day. It was exactly what I needed. I felt loose within, like a burden had been lifted off me.

“One more thing,” she said softly, locking eyes with me.

“You’re loved! Beyond measure, that’s why he never let you hurt yourself and kept you from the things that could harm you. Don’t ever forget that.”

I gave her a watery smile, as I used my handkerchief to wipe my nose.


“Here, let’s take a picture.” She pulled out her phone.

I started to refuse, but she cut me off.
“You’ll need it to remind you of this moment. Don’t ever forget, Vanessa. One day, you’ll be on this side of the car, grateful for the life you have. Don’t ever give up! Promise me!” she urged.

I firmed up my lips. “Yes, I won’t give up. I promise. Let’s take the picture.”

She hugged me, then held the phone up for a selfie.

“Ma, we’ve arrived.” The driver announced.

I pulled away to see my office building. Surprised, I checked the time, it was exactly when I usually arrived: super early.

I decided not to dwell on the impossibility of it all. The experience had been extraordinary, beyond logic.

“My stop…” I said awkwardly.

“Yes, for now,” she replied vaguely.

I nodded, as though I understood.
“Thank you. I don’t know…”

I struggled to find words.

Finally, while she watched patiently, I managed to say:
“I am grateful for what you shared with me, you have brought life back into me. I will not forget this.”

I grabbed her hands, as if I could transfer all my emotions into her so she could feel the depth of my gratitude.

“I see you, Vanessa. I know you. Like you always tell people, I’m rooting for you. Goodbye.”

I tucked those words into my heart for safekeeping. I’d need them when life tested me.

I grabbed the door handle and opened it to the day ahead of me.

The song slowly registered in my brain as I woke up. I could hear my alarm ringing but it wasn’t what was playing in my head. I could still replay the lyrics,
“What a beautiful name it is, the name of Jesus…”

Indeed.

I grabbed my phone to turn off the alarm and got ready for work.

While I was seated on the public bus, I received a WhatsApp message from a friend who was a graphic designer. Curiosity got the best of me, and I clicked on the message.

He’d sent me a design, an AI futuristic version of me, with the message: I was thinking of you yesterday, and I thought to share how I see you. You’re going places, Vanessa. Remember me when you get to the top.

The dream flashed before my eyes, and flooded me with images from the extraordinary encounter. On my screen was the image of Miss Me, just as she’d looked in our selfie.