DREAM COUNT BY CHIMAMAMANDA NGOZI ADICHIE

Some books speak to your mind; others reach into your memory and stir emotions long buried. Dreams Count by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is one of those rare books that does both.

Set during the eerie silence of the lockdown era—a time marked by fear of the unknown—this novel took me back to those uncertain days. It reminded me of the fear, the forced stillness, the moments of introspection, and how people coped: some by pretending nothing was happening, others by giving in to hopelessness, and some—like the characters in this story—by clinging to their dreams.

At the center of it all is Chiamaka, or Chia, whose life is a mirror to many women’s experiences. Caught between longing for love and the harsh reality of receiving only emotional crumbs, she loses herself trying to become what someone else desires. Her relationship with Darnell—emotionally manipulative, selfish, dismissive—is painful to watch. His insults are veiled as jokes, and his nonchalance feels all too familiar. And yet, many today still settle for similar dynamics, trying to fix what was broken from the start, or simply trying to fill a void.

In contrast, Chuka is a refreshing presence. Not the man she dreamed of, but the one who saw her and respected her dreams. A safe surprise.

Then there’s Omelogor—a personal favorite. Bold, outspoken, and unapologetic, she challenges societal norms, sees through everyone, and speaks her truth no matter what. She’s both admired and envied, and rightfully so.

Zikora, the calm observer, refuses to let societal pressure define her life. Still, she’s not untouched by heartbreak or betrayal. Her journey shows that even the strongest people silently crave deep connection.

And in the quiet background, there’s Kadi—the woman carrying layers of loss, expectations, and the pressure to stay silent for peace’s sake. Her past, including the betrayal of a close friend, leads her to Chia’s world. Her love for her daughter Binta is quiet but fierce, and her eventual healing is one of the most satisfying arcs in the book.

What makes Dreams Count even more powerful is its layered storytelling—effortlessly weaving past and present, personal and political. From the echoes of the Biafra war, to cultural diversity, class structures, religion, gender expectations, and even the broken justice systems—it’s all in there. The narrative holds a mirror to how societies function, especially for women: how their pain is minimized, how they are blamed for being victims, how marriage is treated like a checklist, and how love can often come with control.

One of the biggest takeaways for me:

“Men say all kinds of things, but it’s what they do that matters.”

Adichie doesn’t offer a neatly wrapped happy ending. Not everyone gets what they want, but they grow. They survive. They begin again.

And sometimes, that’s enough.

In the end, we all dream—of who we want to be, the life we hope for, and the changes we need. Dreams Countreminded me that even in times of great stillness, dreams don’t die. They wait.