I Climbed That Tree… And Heard Voices Arguing Over My Life

That day started like every other farm day, and that was what made it more frightening when everything changed. My father had taken me with him to the farm to harvest yam, and the sun that afternoon was merciless. We had worked for hours, moving from one spot to another, and by the time we paused to rest, my whole body felt heavy with exhaustion. I remember lying down for what I thought would be a short rest, expecting nothing more than sleep. But what came over me was not ordinary sleep. It felt deeper than that, like I had slipped out of the world I knew into another one entirely.

In that strange state, I found myself lying close to a road. It was market day, and I could hear many people passing by on their way to the market. Their voices were clear, so clear that I could hear their conversations as though I was fully awake. Some were talking about what they would buy and sell, some were hurrying, and some were simply gossiping. But what disturbed me most was that many of them were mocking me. They were complaining that I was blocking the road, stepping around me as if I was some useless thing thrown in their path. I could hear every word, and I understood what they were saying, but I could not reply. It was as if my mouth had been sealed. I wanted to move, to explain myself, to tell them I was there and could hear them, but I was trapped inside myself.

I struggled with everything I had. I tried to shift my body in that strange world, hoping that if I moved enough, I might break out of whatever held me down. Then suddenly, I woke up physically and realized I had shifted in real life too. I was no longer lying in the same direction I had been before I slept. My body had turned on its own. That moment left me deeply unsettled, because it was more than imagination. Something had happened. I told myself maybe it was just exhaustion, maybe the heat had affected me, and I forced myself to continue the day. But the fear stayed in me, quiet and heavy, as if it knew the day was not done with me yet.

Later that same afternoon, I climbed a tree we call Akprata in Izzi, or Ogirisi in Igbo, to pluck its seeds for soup. It was one of those hot afternoons when even the air felt tired. The whole farm was quiet, almost too quiet, and I remember the silence around that tree feeling different. Still, I climbed. I was focused only on getting what I needed and coming down. The next thing I knew, I was no longer on the tree. I found myself descending in confusion, and then I was on the ground. I do not know whether I screamed before falling or whether I lost consciousness while still on the tree. All I know is that when I became aware again, I was lying there helpless, weak, and unable to control my body.

That was when I heard the voices. They were above me, in that tree, and they were arguing. These were not human voices. One of them sounded angry, blaming the other for making me fall and insisting that nothing must happen to me. The other voice sounded defensive and irritated, asking why of all the trees in the world I had chosen that one, in that hot afternoon, and saying I had tampered with her privacy. I lay there on the ground, unable to move, listening to them argue over me as if I were not a person but a problem they were trying to solve. Fear was no longer something I felt only in my chest; it had entered my whole body. I knew I was hearing something I was never meant to hear.

After some time, their argument softened. The one who had been blamed seemed to calm down, and they both agreed on one thing: that what I had done, I did out of ignorance. They said I did not know, and because of that, I should be let go. Then I heard the final words clearly. They said I should go home and never come back. Immediately after those words, I sneezed violently, and in that same instant, an excruciating pain struck my backbone. It was so sharp and sudden that I screamed. That scream was what drew my parents to me. They found me under that tree in pain, confused, and unable to explain fully what had just happened. But I knew what I had heard. I knew I had crossed into something that could not be explained by ordinary language.

Even now, I still struggle to explain that day properly. I do not know whether to call it a dream, a spiritual encounter, or a warning. I only know it was real to me. I heard the market road. I felt my body shift in my sleep. I heard those voices in the tree. And I remember the pain in my backbone when they released me. That day changed the way I see the world. It made me realize that there are things happening around us that we do not understand, things deeper than what the eyes can see. Sometimes, people laugh at such stories because they have never had to confront the unseen for themselves. But once you experience something like that, it never leaves you.

What stayed with me most was not even the fear. It was the realization that ignorance had saved me. If those voices were right, then I touched something I knew nothing about and stepped into a place I was never meant to enter. And yet, because I did it without knowledge, mercy found me there. That thought humbled me. It made me more careful, more aware, and more respectful of things I do not understand. There are moments in life when wisdom is not about knowing everything, but about knowing that not everything is yours to touch.

If you have ever experienced something you could not explain, then you will understand why this story still lives in me. Some things are beyond argument. Some things sit quietly in your memory and remind you that life is deeper than the surface we see every day. And sometimes, what saves a person is not strength, but mercy

There are things in this life we cannot see, yet they are real. There are places we enter carelessly, thinking everything is ordinary, not knowing something unseen is already there. That day taught me to respect what I do not understand. It taught me that not every silence is empty, not every tree is just a tree, and not every sleep is ordinary.

So let me ask you something. Have you ever experienced something you could not explain, something that made you question whether this physical world is all there is? And have you ever escaped something you now know could have ended very differently? Sometimes, awareness is a kind of protection. Sometimes, caution is wisdom. And sometimes, the reason you are still here is simply because mercy spoke on your behalf.

If this story made you think deeply, don’t just read and leave. Click the three-line menu (☰) at the top corner of this blog, then tap Follow so you don’t miss the next story. Some stories are not just meant to entertain you. They are meant to open your eyes.