Dream Count, 2025, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie ****

Dream Count is the story of four women Chiamaka, Zikora, Kadiatou and Omelogor and from the very first pages, I felt like I had been invited into their private group chat. The kind where ambition, heartbreak, pride and vulnerability all sit at the same table.

Chiamaka is born into wealth and raised in comfort, yet she chooses the uncertain life of a travel writer. She circles the globe while dating vigorously, convinced that somewhere between boarding gates and hotel lounges she will meet the man who completes her story. Zikora, her friend who migrates from Nigeria to the United States, is a sharp corporate lawyer. She wants the wedding of her dreams, the husband of her dreams and the perfectly curated family life. At the same time, she is carrying the quiet ache of wanting to reconcile with her mother. Kadiatou’s story is the one that lingers. Born poor in Guinea Conakry, she becomes Chiamaka’s help. After being raped in a VIP hotel room by a

powerful man, her world fractures. The comfort she finds does not come from systems or justice, but from the women around her. Then there is Omelogor, Chiamaka’s cousin, self made and formidable. She builds her wealth in Abuja, thriving in a society designed to reward men, and she knows exactly how to navigate power without apologising for her success.

The novel moves between their lives and gently ushers us toward the COVID quarantine of 2020. That strange, suspended time we all experienced becomes the quiet backdrop where dreams are examined, relationships are tested and illusions are stripped bare. Now let me speak honestly. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is a writer I hold close to my heart. My love for her writing flows naturally from my love for Chinua Achebe, the great writer from my village Ogidi, and from reading Buchi Emecheta. I do not easily call myself a fan of anyone, but with Chimamanda, I will say it plainly. I follow her work. I pay attention. When she was promoting Dream Count, I learnt that she had welcomed twin boys some months earlier. After Christmas, I also learnt that she painfully lost one in a hospital in Lagos. His name was Nkanu Esege. So imagine my pause when, in the novel, Zikora’s mother tells the story of the doctor who saved her life after childbirth, Dr. Nkanu Esege, the best of his time. Knowing she used her son’s name while he was still alive makes that detail deeply personal. It is one of those moments where fiction and real life quietly touch. 

For me, Dream Count is a four star read. It feels like four extended short stories woven together. At times, I kept waiting for a stronger collision, a grand moment where everything would tie together more dramatically, but it never quite came. Zikora’s story, in particular, felt the most complete and intentional. Still, if you are an Adichie reader like I am, you will want to read this. It is a portrait of educated, successful women who have achieved what society told them to achieve, yet are still searching for fulfilment, often measuring it against love and men, right before COVID interrupted the world. It is reflective, intimate and thought provoking. Not perfect, but compelling enough to keep you turning the pages.

Here is a Picture of Chimamanda and I when she visited my city in 2017.