Diwata | Dream Journals Twenty

Barely Fifteen Minutes Ago:

Me: Kuya Ed, Magandang Umaga! Busy ka? May kuwento ako sayo.

Kuya Ed: Mabuhay! Kuwento!

Me: Ewan ko kung may relation to sa kuwento mo last night pero napaniginipan kita sa gubat (doesn't remember if he was rapeling or something, but I know it was raining and thick dark clouds hover above. It must have been late afternoon) tapos for a split second may narinig ako sa background na nagcha-chant na matandang babae na never ko pa narinig ang chant. Tribal siya no doubt. Kinuwento ko sayo kasi mamaya baka mawala sa tenga ko yung part ng kanta. Kinilabutan ako.

Kuya Ed: Write what you remember! In detail. Tapos kuwento mo. Write muna!

Me: Part ng chant ng matanda eh may salitang ya'ah'weh. Paulit ulit yun bago ako nagising.

Kuya Ed: Wow Yahweh.

---

Over dinner last night at TGIF, Pastor Ed Lapiz was telling us how he was able to record using audio equipment 33 hours of T'Boli epic which no one has ever done before. He said that at first, the chanters would hesitate their performance. It took him two days before they were convinced to chant their tribal story and they never stopped after.

According to the T'Boli elders. The diwatas of the forest (which they claim were around them at that time) told the chanters that Pastor Ed "was one of them."

Pastor Ed has this advocacy of preserving oral tradition, which he fears, would be lost to the nation if he doesn't step up and collect them.





As expected, I lost the chant, which kept playing in my head just when I was about to publish this entry.

It must have been something.

The Soulkeeper | Dream Journals Nineteen

I found myself seated in a concert hall, where the dirty white walls were stale and the dull wooden armchairs were on the verge of falling apart. People sat at a distance from one another. Men had dark velvety coats over their open-collared shirts, while women had corsets under their cream-colored blouses. All of them were waiting for the performance to begin.

Suddenly, you emerged from the door behind me and found your seat next to mine. You were wearing a white polo shirt and had a bright-colored slacks that I never knew you own. There were no words spoken between us. Only the chatter of a group of audience flocking the other side of the hall filled the gap that had become our space.

While my eyes were fixed at the empty stage, I felt your hand slipping between our chairs where mine had already laid claim. Brushing my fingers, the skin to skin contact recalled of an old, old spark remembered from that one early morning my palm first felt yours. Like a nearly forgotten memory dwelling on subconscious thoughts, my hand can still feel the spaces between your fingers.

And like a matchstick igniting a fire, every stroke awakens subdued emotions. The skin contact could be brushed off, but when the familiar attachment tells of an unbroken connection; the fingers will instinctively find their places between the palm of your hands. The swaying continues, until your index finger curls itself against mine. The middle fingers follow and so are the other digits, until the thumbs - the unopposable thumbs seal the union in this waltz between our hands.

I never saw your eyes looking at me, but every time your hand squeezed mine, your assurances tell that no matter what places I ran myself into, you will always remain the keeper who will always show up - even in my sleep - just to tell me that everything will be fine.

Dream Journals Eighteen

If and when it happens, at least you have been cautioned.

My eyes were closed, but I felt the ground beneath my feet wobble. It was a violent tremble. It is as if, some imaginary hand took a glass paper holder and shook it until the gold dust or white dot particles scatter all over the place. I imagine a spectacle of chaos; a pandemonium beyond my wildest vision. When the vibrations were over, I opened my eyes and found myself on a flattened ruin across UST. It was where the Ryan Jay Gym once stood. (or Shakeys) I cannot really remember. What I am certain of is that the overpass was still standing and thick dark clouds hung overhead.

To recall the events become more difficult the more I gain consciousness. I cannot say if there was an ambush interview by a reporter a few feet away (or was it on the breaking news on television that I was watching) The reporter was asking the former President Corazon Aquino. (makes sense, she was the president when the July 1990 Earthquake Struck) for insights about the major tremor. I didn’t wait for the interview to finish. Instead, I walked towards the overpass to climb its steep steps. I reached the summit minutes later and continued walking until I was at the middle of the overhead crossing. Surveying my surroundings, scenes of destruction were everywhere. Collapsed buildings dotted the stretch of Espana towards the direction of Welcome Rotonda. For reasons only my vision could explain, I cannot recall seeing another person aside from me. There were no ambulances or fire trucks passing beneath. Despite the earthquake, an eerie calmness lulled my surroundings.

The last thing I remember was looking still in the direction of Welcome Rotonda. With eyes fixed on the horizon, I noticed that the spot where the Espana Tower once stood and proudly touched the sky was no more. In its place were concrete slabs stacked on top of each other. They look like domino pieces strewn all over the place.

“I wonder how many people were trapped under the rubble,” I thought.

End of dream.

9:00 AM
February 13, 2009

Dream Journals Seventeen

If there is really a thing called fate, mine is to begin relationships with a one night stand. I cannot help it, the only way I'd openly express my emotions is when I become intimate with the person I like. It was never my habit to speak my feelings, and I guess I would never have the balls to say it straight. A dream had given me an insight as to what would happen if I change my ways.

---

4:49 AM
Vignette composed using a Mobile Phone;
A few minutes after I was stirred from sleep

I had a dream this morning. In that dream I had a girl crush. I remember her about to perform an impromptu Aria for a selected audience. Being under her spell, I did my best to help her prepare. I always bought this big book of songs she can choose from for her performance. What I got in return for all the effort I poured was an attitude. In a fit of rage, I confronted her as to why she had to push me away. I asked why put up a sour mood after all that I've done. Sharp, hurtful words flew and she received the brunt of my anger.

Then I realized later while waiting for her to perform that it doesn't have to end that way...

-end of dream-

---

The dream had catapulted me back to a time when courtships had me suffer a string of heartaches which I never fully recovered.

A Visit From The Afterlife

Our Christian belief tells us that there is life after death. Jesus Christ, as he was nearing his death in the crucifix assures one of the dying thieves who believe him that he will next open his eyes in Paradise. Other enlightened men would describe the afterlife as a garden of perpetual delights. It is a place where hatred and pain do not exist and time wounds itself to a complete stop. It is a place strolled by saints and angels and where joy and happiness never ends. No wonder, every living soul on earth is enticed to seek heaven's promise of eternal life.

Though I follow the way of the cross, I do not believe in the thought of heaven or hell. For me, they are merely abstract ideas put in place by men of religion to keep the people of all ages and creed hoping and dreaming of a better life beyond. Mom, in her infinite love would like us to stay together even in the afterlife. I would love to embrace her ideas, but at the back of my head, I would always wonder what good there is in a life without pain and struggle. What value there is in a soul that would stagnate in the passing of eternity.

For these reasons, I tend to embrace the eastern thought of afterlife. I would like to believe that a body is a mere vessel where the soul resides. In its countless cycle of rebirth across time, it learns, it matures and then at the end of its journey it blends with the source in what the sages call Nirvana. The thought of having a chance to atone for my mistakes comfort me. If only such path truly exist, then I would never fear death at all.

In all my life's searching, I find evidences that I might be an old soul on its way to a higher journey. That old voice speaks through Pulsar when I direct myself towards unearthly goals. However, I am aware that concepts are mere concepts. Reincarnation, heaven and soul might just be human ideas. Until I reach the end of my time, I will never know the truth about existence. It is these thoughts that keep me searching for my life's meaning.

However, there are signs that point towards the other direction. The afterlife might be an endless garden after all. Like I said in my other mustard seed entries, life is full of mysteries and no matter how we try to unravel them, new mysteries come up and will keep us wondering the metaphysical aspects of existence.

Take for example what happened last week. Dad appeared once again in my sleep. I have always known that my dearly departed loved ones pay me a visit in my dreams. It happened so many times before that I do not find their presence spooky anymore. However, it still bothers me when they visit - especially my father, who I believe should be on his journey by now.

The details of the dream are now blurry. All I remember is that we were cordial when we saw each other. We were talking about this certain newspaper that he manages. You see, he was a writer and a newspaper publisher all his life. After reading Mitch Albom's The Five People You Meet in Heaven, I envisioned my father's idea of heaven being a huge newsroom where he is the chief editor. If there is a grain of truth in Albom's thoughts, then perhaps, dad must be a publisher in the afterlife.

Anyway he said that he doesn't follow the news - like he used to when he was still alive. While telling his new preoccupations, I was turning the pages of the tabloid, that apparently he owns. What is unusual about this tabloid is that the masthead (the box where the list of staff members and editors of the newspaper are put) includes so many people. I think I even told dad that "andami mo namang tao, ngayon lang napuno ito ah!" before I was stirred from my sleep.

Like all dreams about him, I would have ignored this appearance for one reason: I do not know of any occasion where he would wish to be remembered. The last time I had a striking dream about him happened a week before his second death anniversary. It was where we finally settled our differences and found peace in the afterlife. Despite his regular visits to me, he never makes his presence felt to my mom or my sister in their sleep. Mom would say that maybe dad is still guilty of the things he did to her when he was still alive. I do not know. What I am sure of is that he passed away with dignity and love from the family he almost turned his back from.

It's been four years since he departed life and I still wonder why he remains in the realm of the living. Is there a possibility that his continued presence only proves that souls do not travel from one body to the next like what the eastern thought believes? Is it possible that his presence in our lives still has purpose since he left us with so many unfinished business that we need to fix ourselves?

Sometimes it is difficult to dive into metaphysical ramblings for I am left with so many questions that I cannot answer myself.

However, what separates this dream about my dad from the others I had before is that I was not the only one who saw his apparition that morning. A revelation by a house help while eating my lunch left a cold chill so intense, it made the strands of my hair point upwards for quite sometime:

---

Alam mo, napanaginipan ko yung papa mo kanina. Dumating daw siya tapos nagpapahanda ng ulam sa akin. Natandaan ko yung mukha niya kasi sa mga pictures sa sala. Hayun, niluto ko siya ng Tuyo at Sinangag. Sabi niya sa akin dun na lang daw siya kakain sa kwarto mo.

Outburst

Three nights you were in my dreams. And what is strange is we become more intimate the longer I find you in my sleep.

I have instructed my heart to suppress every trace of romantic feelings long ago. I even try not to think, for every thought of you makes me remember how to really feel...

If I have managed to see you as a friend in every waking moment, then why does my dreams vividly tell of another story?

---

All because I'm
Comin' down the years turn over
And angels fall without you there
And I'll go and lead you home and
All because I'm
All because I'm
And I'll become
What you became to me

- Black Balloon, Goo Goo Dolls


Postcript: 10:20pm. He set me free.

I now know who makes his heart beat.

Dream Journals Sixteen

Maulap pa rin ang langit gaya sa mga nakaraang panaginip.

Tila ba ilang sandali na lang ay bubuhos na naman ang isang napakalakas na ulan. Itong ulan, na nagbibigay-buhay sa uhaw na lupa ay siya ring ulan na nagbibigay pangamba sa aking paggising. Tila ba ito'y nagbabadya ng paparating na panganib o kaya nama'y matinding kalungkutan. Makailang beses na ba akong nanaginip na nakasakay sa jeep habang ito'y naglalakbay sa isang madilim at walang katao-taong kalsada? Makailang beses na ba akong inabutan ng ulan sa aking paglalakbay?

Hindi ko na matandaan kung ilan.

Maraming beses na akong humingi ng isang dapithapon - gaya ng mga dati kong panaginip. Madalas ay nakikita ko ang sarili sa isang mataas na lugar at nakamasid sa malayo. Malawak ang aking natatanaw, at itong kalawakan ang siyang nagbibigay sa akin ng magandang gising sa umaga. Subalit ngayon, laging ulan ang bumabati sa aking pagtulog. Maraming beses ko man hanapin kung ano ang nais nitong ipahiwatig, laging ligalig pa rin ang dala nito sa tuwing ako'y nagigising.

Sa pagkakataong ito, nakita ko ang sarili na naglalakad papunta sa isang bangko. Medyo malabo na ang mga pangyayari, subalit sa aking natatandaan, magwiwithdraw dapat ako ng pera upang ipambili ng mga regalo. Makipot ang daan papasok sa ATM booth at naalala ko na bukas ang fluorescent lamp, kahit maliwanag pa rin sa labas ng bangko. Matapos pindutin ang mga numerong magbibigay access sa aking pin, kasunod nito dapat ay pera ang lalabas. Sa aking pagkamangha, isang pirasong lumang papel ang nilabas ng nasabing ATM.

Nakasulat sa isang purple ink ang mga salitang,

Congratulations! You have won Eight Hundred Thousand Pesos...

Dali-dali akong nagtungko sa loob ng bangko upang isangguni sa Teller ang natanggap na pirasong papel.

"Is this a joke maam? I got this from your ATM" sabay abot ng papel sa teller. Dali-dali niyang tinawag ang manager.

"I'm afraid this is not a joke sir." pangiting sagot sa akin ng manager matapos niyang pag-aralan ang nakasulat. "Congratulations!" Hindi ko na matandaan ang mga sumunod na nangyari.

Sa tuwa, hindi ko alam kung ako'y magtatatalon at magsisisigaw sa loob ng bangko. Ang natatandaan ko lang, dali-dali akong nag-open ng account upang doon ilagak ang perang napanalunan. Habang sinusulat ang aking pangalan at lagda sa application form, naglalaro sa aking isip ang balak kong gawin sa pera.

Hindi ko ito sasabihin sa aking ina. Gugulatin ko na lang siya na meron akong extra cash.

Gusto kong bumili ng pabango. Hugo Boss sana o kaya naman ay Clinique Happy.

Marami pa akong hangad pagkagastusan, subalit hindi ko na ito matandaan.

Except ang pakiramdam na masarap palang manalo ng hindi mo inaasahan...

And just when I thought everything is real.

Nagising ako mula sa panaginip. Tanghali na pala.

Nightmare

O kay sarap humanap ng bato na ipupukol sa aking ulo.

---

Nagsimula ang lahat sa taxi. Pauwi na ako ng bahay noon, samantalang ikaw naman ay may kasamang iba at patungo na rin sa iyong uuwian. Sa hindi malamang dahilan ay magka-convoy ang ating mga sasakyan kahit na ang inyong destinasyon ay pa-silangan at ako naman ay pakanluran. Sa loob ng taxi ay naisipan kong tingnan ang nilalaman ng aking wallet. Wala na pala itong pera. Tuloy ay napilitan akong bumaba at mag-withdraw sa pinakamalapit na ATM habang kayo naman ay nag-iintay sa akin, sa ikalawang taxi na nakaparada lang sa likod ng sinasakyan ko.

Pagkawithdraw ng pera ay lumapit ako sa inyo upang mangamusta. Sa tagal ng ating kwentuhan ay nakalimutan kong may taxi palang nag-iintay sa akin. Pati ang kasama mo ay nainip sa ating pag-uusap. Habang nagbabayad ng aking metro sa kabilang taxi, bumaba siya ng inyong sasakyan upang sumakay sa taxi na iniwan ko. Naiwan tayong dalawa at dahil dun ay naisipan kong ihatid ka na lang pauwi.

Madilim pa ang lansangan nang tayo'y nagsimulang maglakbay. Di kalayuan ang ating bababaan subalit pagdating sa terminal ng mga sasakyan papunta sa inyo'y maliwanag na. Bumaba tayo ng taxi upang kumontrata ng iba. One hundred fifty pesos ang gusto ng driver at ito'y aking kinontra. Maaliwas ang langit, subalit wala akong nakikitang araw. Habang tayo ay nag-iintay ng FX ay may taong grasa na lumapit sa atin. Nakalimutan ko ang kanyang sinabi, ngunit tandang tanda ko pa kung paano kita hinarangan upang hindi ka niya mapansin.

Mataas na ang araw ngunit wala pa rin tayong masakyan.

Sa kabila ng lahat, hindi ko nakita ang bakas ng pagod o puyat sa iyong mga mata. Sa halip pa nga'y mukhang masaya ka na kasama lang akong nag-iintay ng masasakyan pauwi sa inyo. Marahil dahil na rin sa tagal nating pagkakatayo ay naisipan nating sumandal sa isang tabi. Sa aking pagkakaalam ay isang lamesa ang ating naupuan, subali't laking gulat ko nang ito'y biglang umandar. Hood pala ng isang lowered at kalawanging kotse ang ating naupuan.

At ang nagmamaneho nito ay yung babaeng taong grasa na nakasalubong natin sa daan.

Wala nang pagkakataon upang tumalon at umiwas sa disgrasya.

Ayaw ko rin magpatihulog sapagkat tinaga ko sa buto ang pangakong hindi ka iiwan.

Mabilis akong dumagan sa iyo upang masiguro na hindi ka dudulas at mahuhulog sa kalsada. Kasabay nito ang pag-unat ng aking mga braso upang maabot ng aking mga kamay ang magkabilaang dulo ng hood. Pabilis ng pabilis ang takbo ng sasakyan, samantalang ang driver naman ay mukhang balak tayo ibangga sa pinakamalapit na poste na kanyang maaninagan.

Sa kabila ng nagbabadyang panganib ay una kong tiniyak ang iyong kaligtasan. Tama nga siguro ang sabi ni Centurion sa inuman kagabi na ako ang tipong martir na handang magsakripsyo ng husto para sa isang tao.

Sapagkat nang mga oras na iyon, handa akong mapahamak para sa iyo.

Tiningnan ko sa mata ang driver. Mga mata niya'y nanlilisik at wala itong tigil sa paghalakhak habang minamaneho ang karag-karag niyang sasakyan. Ang kanyang bibig ay walang tigil sa paggalaw na tila ba may sinasabi. Sa kasamaang palad ay wala akong matandaan sa kanyang mga nabanggit.

Pagkaraan pa ng ilang minuto ay bumagal na rin ang takbo ng kotse. Napagod man ang nagmamaneho dito ngunit walang preno pa rin ang kanyang bibig sa kanyang mga sinasabi. Nawala na rin ang panlilisik ng kanyang mga mata. Ito'y napalitan ng pagkalma ng mukha na ni minsan ay hindi ko napansin sa taong grasa noong una natin siyang nakita.

Nakababa tayo ng hood ng kotse na tila walang nangyari.

Subalit ramdam ko na mas dikit ka na sa akin matapos ang lahat.

---

Bumangon akong masakit ang ulo dala ng hang-over sa mga beer na tinungga kagabi. Sa kabila nito ay sariwa pa rin ang panaginip na tila isang matamis na ala-ala na sadyang ayaw magpalimot.

Naalala kitang bigla.

Kasunod nito ang pagtarak ng patalim sa aking dibdib. Ang bawat hapdi na aking nararamdaman ay paalala lamang upang magising sa aking kahibangan

na anuman ang mangyari, ang eksenang panaginip gaya ng

hawakan ng ating mga kamay,
ang pagsandal ng iyong ulo sa aking balikat,
at ang iyong mga matatamis na ngiti habang tayo'y nag-iintay ng masasakyan pauwi

ay mananatiling mapait na bangungot na sana'y di ko na lang napanaginipan.

Ilang beses ko man balik-balikan ang panaginip kagabi at ilang beses ko man isikreto ang pagtingin ko sa iyo,

kailangan kong gumising sa katotohanang nakatakda kang lumigaya sa piling ng iba.

---

Sa tulog ko lang ba kita maaaring makamtan
'Di ba puwedeng makasama ka sa ibang paraan
O Diyos ko, tulungan mong maging totoo
Ang panaginip kong ito...

- South Border, Tulog

Dream Journals Fifteen

Nakita ko ang aking sarili na kausap ang isang babae na hawig ng kapatid ko. Tanda ko pa ang kanyang suot na jeans at T-shirt na paborito niyang suotin kapag sumasali ito ng mga rally. Napansin ko rin ang kulay pulang bandana na nakapulupot sa ulo nito.

Naroon kami sa isang construction site. Malalim ang hukay sa lupa at ang isang bahagi nito ay lubog sa tubig na may halong burak. Bumaba ng hukay ang babae upang mag-imbistiga. Ako naman ay nakatayo lang sa itaas, ilang talampakan mula sa excavation at nakikipag-text sa aking kalandian sa cellphone.

Sa kasamaang palad biglang dumulas ang cellphone sa aking kamay at nahulog ito sa tubig na may halong burak. Natatandaan ko pa nga ang aking pagka-badtrip sapagkat panay na ang gastos ko, ngunit heto't kailangan ko na naman bumili ng bagong telepono. Sinabi ko sa babae ang aking problema. Sa halip na makisampatya sa inabot kong kamalasan, inanyayahan pa niya akong bumaba ng hukay upang samahan siya.

Nang makarating ako sa putikang bahagi kung saan nahulog ang aking cellphone, inutusan niya akong ilubog ang aking kamay sa tubig na may burak. Sabi ko sa kanya na mukhang malalim ang bahaging pinaghulugan ng aking telepono at malabo na itong makuha at gumana pa dahil nabasa na ito ng tubig. Ngunit sa kabila nito, napilit pa rin niya akong kapain ang cellphone dahil ayon sa kanya'y mababaw lang daw ang tubig.

Upang patunayan na mali ang kanyang sinasabi, nilubog ko ang aking kamay sa burak.

At laking gulat ko dahil hindi lamang mababaw ang tubig na may halong burak, nang iangat ko ang aking kamay kasama ang cellphone ay gumagana pa ito na tila ba walang nangyari kahit na napakataas ng pinaghulugan at tubig pa ang pinagbagsakan nito.

---

I found my answer in the tranquility of sleep.
Dominus will remain.

La Guardia

Funny how despite our high technological advancement, there are things in the world we still cannot fully explain.

- anonimus

---

A figure was standing right in front of my bed. She was a little girl, around ten years of age. Her hair was long, dark and flowing; her skin was fair and smooth. I remembered her wearing a long white gown. If not for the fact that our encounter happened in my dream, I would have thought that what was in front of me was a ghost of a child.

I was in my pre-teen years when her apparition took place in my room. We have never met before and I do not remember seeing her in any books or on television. However, when I recall our brief but strange encounter many years later, I would still ask myself and wonder how was she able to speak to me and how did she know that I masturbate frequently.

---

Some six years later, a strong typhoon had hit the city. It's eye was forecast the night before to pass just south of Metro Manila, and was expected to hit hard the provinces of Laguna and Cavite. Power was cut at early dawn and candles were lit up inside the house. Its dancing flames flicker everytime a gust of wind pounds the wooden wall separating me from the elements outside. The room would vibrate slightly whenever the wind would find its way between the iron grills protecting my windows. It felt like an overweight baby clung violently on the grills and starts jumping up and down to get my attention.

I placed my candle right beside my bed, on top of a CD plastic case that rests on the wooden floor. I was hoping that I would find solace in its enduring light. I fell asleep soon after, despite the persistent howling of winds and the ceaseless bouncing of a huge invisible baby on the iron grills outside the windows.

It was my hope that I could sleep soundly throughout the storm. But a few hours after daybreak, something out of this plane had stirred me from my peaceful slumber.

All I sensed was an urgent calling; a voice inside my head ordering me to wake up. I could not immediately remember if this something had a form or figure, for I have never seen its face or its features. But whenever I recall later how I was able to get up and put out the fire shortly before it burns the wooden floor, the only thing that I could remember is a presence of a lady - an adult woman in my sleep trying to tell me to put out the candle before it's too late.

---

These two events remain a mystery that no one could explain to me.

My mom said that it might be my guardian angel who woke me up when my room had nearly caught on fire. I told her that I don't believe in angels. She then paused for a few seconds and then said that she had no more explanations to offer. She added that I should consider the lady's intervention a miracle; something that I should always remember whenever I put my faith in question.

Mom was right, it indeed strengthened my faith. However, it also opened the possibilities of acknowledging my feminine instincts that over time, lead to my eventual acceptance of my homosexuality.

---

A few years ago, I had a private message conversation with this eccentric lesbian from Pinoyexchange. Her name was Moonlover and she claimed to be a psychic who can sense things that ordinary people like us could never feel. She told me in our conversation that we have guides, who sometimes speak to us. She also told me of beings from other planes, and the karmic repercussions of putting spells on other people.

I tell you, she was truly out of this world and I would have loved to meet her.

Unfortunately Moonlover's cryptic posts disturbed a confused lesbian in their thread and began to openly harass her. The loser's accusations were so pathetic and what's worse was that her friends in their thread ganged-up on her and began to call her a witch. I was ready to intervene on Moonlover's behalf, even if I never understood anything about their issues. However, my presence came too late. She was never seen in PEx again.

---

I stumbled upon one of her private messages while deleting old junk mails from other pexers last night. As I re-read her message - especially the part containing the answers about the mystery woman who woke me up one stormy morning, the thought of the guides came up again.

In her reply, she encouraged me to ask for signs of their presence before I go to sleep at night. This hint not only gave me an idea to cross the borders of reality, if I could prove to myself that guides exist, it would boost my awakened state one step higher.

With this in mind, it became my prayer intention to meet my guide if ever I have one.

"If it's not too much to ask," I told Him. "I wish to know if my desire to achieve a higher state of spirituality can be attributed to a guide, like what a friend had once told me."

"This is not an urgent request," I added. "All I ever wanted is to feel that I am never alone."

Knowing that what I was asking is a sort of an absurd request, I already felt that the answer would not be as clear as I wish it to be. It is often the case - God answers in mysterious ways,

I do not know if the answers He gave last night was as clear as it had been intended, or was it just my head playing tricks on me.

In my dream, I saw a person - a man I had never seen before. He seems to have handsome facial features, but not the ones I've been tripping in the clubs or in the gym. I do not remember if we had a conversation, or the exact contours of his face. Almost all the details of our meeting had evaporated the moment I woke up from my sleep. All I know is that he was a man and I felt that we have not yet met.

Now the question is, how can a stranger appear in your dream? Was his presence the answer to the prayer I asked the night before?

Alas! The favor was a one-shot request that I'm afraid I'd be ashamed to ask again. What I asked for was a sign. How unfortunate that when we get strange and unexplainable answers from above, we tend to over-analyze it using any plausible logical reasons we could think of.

It was a one-in-a-million question that I would never dare ask again.

And so the sign stays as it was in the dream. Guide or just a figment of imagination, I'm afraid I will never know.

---

I believe that was already a desperate attempt to get your attention! When we are asleep, we are naturally in an altered state of consciousness hence, most dead people contact their relatives in dreams so as not to frighten them. All our guides always reach out to us, but sometimes we are just too consumed with our issues. Ever had the experience that there is a voice in your mind that comforts you or that you have a brilliant idea out of the blue? That is them discretely communicating with you. If you want to have direct communication with them, it starts with intention. Before you sleep, pray that you be given a sign.

- moonlover's reply to my question
pinoyexchange.com

Dream Journals Thirteen

What began as a revelation by Princess about P-Man must have transpired to a surge of REM attacks these past few days. Unlike the dreams I had weeks before, these dreams I had lately were more profound and vivid to be able to be recalled long after I woke up. The dreams revolved mostly, having conversations with P-Man and other crappy scenes that I could not remember. But from my two late-morning naps (today and yesterday), I was able to re-create scenes, which I not only find very cryptic but surreal as well. I consulted Gripen for interpretation. But he said he will still have to do some research in order to provide me with clearer and more concise answers.

While waiting for his interpretation, perhaps these detailed accounts would help him (and other dream interpreters out there) find a common denominator about the significance of these dreams. I know there is a connection, I just couldn't pinpoint what they are all about.

---

The dream sequence began when I found myself walking along rows of unoccupied condominium units just like the ones built along South Superhighway near Vito Cruz. However, these units in my dream were constructed near the banks of a river so its arrangement looked like those in the GSIS City Compound in Santa Mesa.

I only stopped walking when I reached the end of the buildings, where construction still takes place in the empty lots nearby. Then I heard two men talking behind me, but I cannot remember what the subject of their conversation was. What I did remember was I looked at a construction pit, where the soil underneath revealed plastic bags and other garbage, suggesting that the site was once a landfill.

---

A change of setting occurred and I found myself on the rooftop of a very tall building together with another gentleman. This guy was in his early thirties. He was wearing a cream-colored two-piece suit and first impression suggests that I am with a very rich guy. He was in front of me standing against a cemented wall, his shoes barely touching the protruding ledge. His eyes were fixed at the direction of buildings hidden behind a veil of fog. He was looking in the distance.

It was late afternoon and I remember looking at the cloudy purplish-blue sky wishing to see the sun cast its rays before it finally sets. It never appeared between parting clouds. Curious about what the gentleman was looking at, I also went up against the wall, my feet on the same narrow ledge where the gentlemen’s white shoes were firmly tucked. What I saw was an unlit city shrouded in bluish fog. Tall structures – perhaps a block of skyscrapers or nearby hills, whose silhouette I could see behind the veil of clouds appeared nearer than I thought to be.

Trying to start a conversation, I remembered asking him why does he love to stay in very high places. (I presumed he lives in that tall condominium). He was silent at first, probably contemplating on his answers. Then he spoke,

“I just love stunning views.” It was his brief reply to my question.

There and then, images of his achievements - from the houses he owned to the businesses he controlled flooded my thoughts. He had never spoken about what happened, but it appeared that he struggled on the way to the top of his career. Before the dream was cut, I saw myself inside a car. From the seat covers to the ceiling inside the vehicle, it appears that I was riding a luxury sedan. It was still late afternoon outside, but the clouds reveal that it would rain anytime.

The gentleman wasn’t with me anymore. However, remembering the looks of his face and the brief, enigmatic conversation we had, it seemed like the man I talked to was non other but the older me.

My dream was cut; another dream takes over.

---

End of Dream

Dream Journals Twelve

Heto ang napapala ng isang empleyado na garapal matulog sa kanyang workstation, habang ang lahat ng kanyang colleagues ay abala sa pagtratrabaho.

---

It was mid-afternoon. I was standing idly outside, at the carpark in front of the house. When I looked above, there was not a single cloud in the sky. Instead all you could see is the endless blue space stretched from horizon to horizon.

Suddenly, little particles of dust began to fall. At first, nobody paid attention to it. Even our neighbor Ate Fe, who often shares us free food whenever she prepared too much for her guests said that it might just be the dust coming from the street.

However when I looked up again, I saw more dust particles falling from the sky. I could just imagine an invisible hand sprinkling ash above our heads.

The quietness was gradually being replaced by a hollow sound of the wind. It was soft at first but its bellowing sound grows more intense by the minute.

So I ran towards the house to warn everyone of what's happening outside. By this time the sound of the wind was howling ominously. It was like a huge tornado is about to pass our way. I told my sister, who was in her room to lock the windows to prevent the dust from coming
inside the house.

Her windows were already firmly secured.

So I went to my room to close my windows as well.

However, the windows were located behind the green curtains that shielded my dark room from the blinding sunlight every morning. When I saw these curtains they look like they were being sucked by some unknown force outside.

I remember trying to reach them, but fear prevented me from making a step.

Despite the blue sky, which i could see in the little holes that pot marked the walls of my room, the ground begins to shake slightly. The dust which we tried in vain to contain outside begins to find its way inside the house. The wind now wails at its loudest. It's sound is like a hundred disturbed souls seeking redemption.

And I remember those sounds bringing tremor and fear in my heart.

---

End of dream sequence.

Dream Journals Eleven

Science tells us that there is an explanation for everything. Dreams, which falls under the category of mysticism is outrightly explained as a subconscious working of the brain. However, what if there are certain dreams that defy all logical explanation? What if the person involved in the dream conveyed some gestures and actions, which one's brain and subconscious thoughts may never claim as theirs?

The excerpts below reveal that death is not the end of everything; It is, like what the ancient mystics say, the beginning of something, science has never explored yet.

---

It was almost sundown, the tropa gathered in front of the Our Lady Of The Abandoned Church in Marikina for a mini-reunion. Then he showed up, standing beside the street. He was gleeful and in a happy mood. Strangely, the nostalgic feeling of being in the college creeps back to me. I don't remember how the meeting went, for most of the details were gradually lost after the waking consciousness. What I remember however is that I apologized to him for not showing up last night. He was quite displeased, but knowing him when he was still alive, he would not take things seriously. I even remember trying to shove him towards the bangketa because a jeep suddenly passed by, only to realize that he is not there anymore.

"honga pala pare multo ka na."

The dream ends after I asked him if he "sees wanderers like him." His mood suddenly turned serious and gloomy. As he stared in blank space, he nodded to me as a sign of acceptance. From the looks of it, he knows, he is not of this world anymore.

When I woke up, I was already thirty minutes late for work.

Dream Journals Ten - Gripen's Dream Interpretation

Hala pinagmultuhan ka? haha! I'm not an expert dream interpreter pero I used to do this before and I can't help myself not to so forgive my two cents worth...When your dad was alive you were somehow concerned of your sexuality especially during the early years and at certain times blames him for that.

I was worried and defiant about my sexuality that time. I blamed him for not being around when I was growing up. I blamed his womanizing activities for breaking our family apart and during the first few months of my "bisexuality stage," I even said that I'm just doing my mom a huge favor. Tutal nambababae naman yung dad ko, manlalalake naman ako.

And that's what I did.


You also have a certain degree of amazement of things that he had achieved as he appered in his authoritative figure in your dream.

He was very successful in life. Unfortunately, he became too drunk with success that he forgot to look back and remember where he came from.

The meat symbolizes the things that you are doing right now...It seems to you that problem rises one after another.

Hmmm... are you saying carnal activities? Wala nga ako nun eh. Pero yeah, problems meron. Hehehe. So far, manageable pa naman.


The swarms of insects also represents busy lifestyle which you may be into lately which somehow complicates the situation further...But amazingly you always find yourself to be saved at the last minute of a situation at a point when you're almost to give up.

P-man and phanks. period.

If you are hearing a lot of background voice It clearly augurs your deep connection with your protector which will always guide you all the times..I also think that you will gonna be busy for the coming months...yun lang haha! sorry hindi ko mapigilan....

Protector? When I was a kid, I used to dream of this lady in white who always talk to me. Minsan nga, she even told me that he sees everything that I'm doing (tinanong ko pa, so you see me doing my "thing?" She just smiled. Anyway, may isang time rin, nakalimutan kong patayin yung candle sa floor ko. Someone woke me up from sleep, nung pagkamulat ko, bigla kong naalala yung candle. Hayun, malapit ng masunog yung floor ko. I think she's the one who woke me up during the Post Midnight Afterburner Episode.

Yup, come Monday, I'm gonna be very busy.

Galing talaga!

Dream Journals Ten

I think my dad just spoke against my preferred sexual preference. Here is an account of his recent "dalaw" to me, in my dream.

Dream Sequence:

We were in an old familiar room. The books overflow from the bookcases, brown and dustied because of age. A huge table littered with trinkets beckoned in front of me. Seated behind it was my dad, scribbling something on his small dark notebook.

His face was very serious, almost to the point of appearing upset over something. In my stupidity, I asked him how our printing business was (which in real life, is still in operation. My dad's former driver/reporter/orbiter* shamelessly stole the name and rights from us.) He didn't say any word, but his face appeared more bitter when I asked him about it. After all, that same printing business costed him his life before.

Then he handed me some Chinese food leftovers in a styrofoam he took from one of the drawers of his table. Kainin daw namin yun. When he said it, two unfamiliar-looking guys appeared beside me. One was a chinito (for PEx readers, he looked like Lostwansoul!). I cannot remember what the second guy looked like. I told my dad that we're just gonna buy our own food, so he handed me a crispy five hundred peso bill he took from his wallet.

Next thing I knew, we were in a wet market. On my left side, I saw thick slices of meat. Wala lang, it was exposed from the elements at nilalangaw. Pero it seems that it was already half-cooked. On my right side was a huge grill oven. It was black, it had a huge opening in the middle, where the cook put the panggatong inside and it was full of ash. Tons of it.

My companion ordered three slabs of meat. When the vendor chose for us, the flies were all over the place. Parang nagsiliparan lahat sila dahil nabugaw. Then, nung ipapaluto na namin yung mga meat slabs eh biglang nagsipagbalikan sa meat yung pagkarami-raming mga langaw. It almost turned the meat shiny black. Suddenly I lost my appetite, but the cook was insisted that it was normal. Then he lighted a firewood that looked like a palm frond used during Palm Sundays. Instead of grilling the meat, he burned the slabs with the palm frond so that the flies on it would just drop dead, cooked by the heat.

Then in a background voice, my dad spoke to me.

He named names. It appeared to be his new employees and they were all guys. "Alam mo naman kung paano ang sistema sa massage parlor diba?" He asked. I was speechless, how on earth did he know?

Then the setting shifted again. This time, my eyes were focused on a closed beauty parlor. I could clearly see the mirror, two steel green chairs and some drawers. It might be a reflexology clinic but I'm not really sure.

End of dream.

---

*orbiter - in journalism parlance, a reporter who goes around beats (police beat, malacanang beat, congress beat) to ask people in power to contribute a token of money for the reporter's goodwill.

Dream Journals Nine

Perhaps, the dream I had last night should remind me that the reason why I graduated in high school is because the CAT commandant gave me a reprieve with regards to my demerits. You see, I was a lousy private then. Every inspection, the officers would find flaws in my fatigue like a not-so-polished buckle belt, or a dirty combat boots, or a tickler (black notebook) devoid of any notes. Such flaws earned me demerits and in time, these demerits accumulated and started affecting my final grade.

They considered me a weak and fragile cadet, despite my large frame and tall height. Pano kase, after the morning exercises, which included jogging, jumping jacks and stretching, I would excuse myself from my platoon just to throw up behind the trees. I later found out that throwing up after an extreme workout makes your body adjust to the physical strain. It's like releasing tension that had build up after your body recieves more blows than it could take.

- - -

Dream Sequence:

It is already sundown. Still in my fatigue uniform and rifle on my side, I am standing-in-attention meters away from flagpole facing the Main Library. Behind me is the corridor where the classrooms are located and at a distance, I hear a platoon marching, probably practicing for an inter-high school drill competition.

Beside me is a senior officer. This outgoing officer reminds me of a CAT officer in real life by the name of Santillan. He was busy writing a farewell (thank you) letter for our commandant who is inside the faculty room.

He kept on saying to himself that he's gonna graduate and he needs to thank all the people who supported his leadership of an entire batch of cadets. Apparently, in this dream, he is the corps commander.

The commandant came out of the Faculty room, which is the first room behind me. Despite her aloof mood, she approached me and asked what are my plans for the program. I knew what she meant since I suddenly remembered that I am on the verge of flunking the subject. If that happens, I will not march on graduation day.

So I told her that I would do anything just to boost up my grade. "kahit magparesearch pa kayo sa akin maam gagawin ko," I said. She paused for a moment, perhaps thinking what project she would ask me to do.

"Provide me a report about the German Hard Hat."

Visions of Wikipedia forms in my mind.

"The one worn by German soldiers which had pointy tops maam?" I asked her.

"Yes," she replied

The dream sequence ended in another scene, where I was facing a computer screen and slowly writing down on paper, what I've found about the hard hat.

---

I may have a disappointing record back in CAT. But you know what, a year later in ROTC, perhaps because of my overwhelming dread of getting demerits once again, I wore a complete fatigue uniform on the first sunday of training. This paved way for me to get noticed by a special platoon, that has been created to represent and reinforce the ROTC's presence in the university.

They recruited me to become UST's honor guard. And for two years, I wore this red uniform, which we called Gala Outfit, much like those from the British Royal Guard and welcomed dignitaries in the university. I may not have been an officer, but the rank I had was one notch higher than all my classmates and even the officers in CAT when they were in the ROTC program.

Dream Journals Eight

Dear Dad,

The last time you appeared to me, we were both sleeping in one bed. Then you woke up, got up and without even speaking you straightened the sheets before you left. When I told this to everyone, they said that finally, our hostile relations are already thawing up for you never straightened bedsheets in your entire life.

Almost two years had passed and then suddenly we met again. This time, I was browsing some Chinese novels in a bookstore. As I gently unwrapped one book in order to see its contents, I noticed you walking in one of the aisles. You were wearing a big grey collared shirt, your pants I could not remember. You're just standing there looking at me.

Without saying any word, I approached you and hugged you very tight. It was a long, longing hug that I've been missing to give since you've gone. And we had a talk, which I could not remember anymore. Perhaps, there were things you wanted to clear up, and I am certain we had an understanding. You may have some messages to everyone, but unfortunately, I am too overwhelmed by my regrets - of the years I showed you arrogance that I forgot to remember them upon my awakening.

However, those things don't matter anymore for I believe that I have conveyed to you my innermost feelings before you departed in my dreams. When I woke up this morning, I could still remember your very warm smile when we saw each other and how you told me never to tell anyone that we met before you left.

I could shut my mouth about the whole affair, if not for the emptiness I am feeling right now.

But you know what, the moment I finally saw that familiar face of yours after two years of absence, the moment I almost run towards you just to give you a hug I've been longing to give, and the moment I remember that warmest smile of yours even beyond my dream.

I know, all the bitter things between us are finally over.

Because I woke up crying... for the first time since you passed away.





We remember your Second Death Anniversary Dad.

I love you very much.

---

Gone
(s)He's gone
How do you feel about it?
That's what I thought
You're real done up about it

- Rachiel Yamagata, Worn Me Down

In His Name (Dream Journals Seven)

Two weeks ago, I was on my way home from school when I suddenly thought that my hectic schedule has somehow lessened my communion with the Almighty. In my mind, I was asking myself if I have already fallen from grace. Before my thoughts drifted elsewhere, I offered a silent prayer asking Him for answers. However I have already forgotten what my exact question was...

Last night, under a heated argument with my mother about our dependence on prayers, a transformer near our house exploded shortly after I told her that we shouldn't rely too much on Him when it comes to our well being and security. We should also make realizations and precautions on our own. I told her that the least thing I would like to do when praying is asking for favors - since I believe that I had asked too many already.

Since it was brownout and is extremely hot in the master's bedroom without the electric fan, I invited my mom to sleep in my room. Before she falls asleep, mom told me that my room seems to be very serene and peaceful. Such calmness, she claimed has made her feel at ease.

When I fell asleep, the questions I had in mind... and the arguments last night has been answered. In my dream, He somehow relayed his message to me.

---

It was nightime. A strong blizzard had seemed to pass over because of the thickness of the snow I encountered while climbing a mountain on my own. When I reached the summit, several children in their tattered clothes came running towards me. Behind them were a couple of old folks slowly approaching to greet me. As they came closer, I realized that the older folks appeared to be beyond normal human. It was too late for when they were just a few steps in front of me, I noticed that their flesh were in a minor state of decomposition. I found out that they are zombies, or restless souls who were to ambush me.

I was captured by what to be their leader. He is a very old balding man who uttered some angry words which I can't remember. Suddenly we lifted from the ground in order to fly. Trying so hard to resist, I just realized that we were gaining altitude.

Then all of a sudden, I shouted Jesus Christ's name three times. In each succession, it appears that my captors grows weaker everytime I say his name. In front of us, a huge pine tree starts to glow. On the third time I shouted Christ's name, it lit up like a Christmas Tree, the flashes of light dissolves everyone, including me.

When I woke up, I was lying on a mountain slope covered with snow. The first thing I did was to stand up and look at my surroundings which became extremely quiet. I looked up and what I saw is a sky overflowing with stars. In my heart I felt the cosmic bliss imploding inside me.

- end of dream.

Dream Journals Six (Repression Mode Edit)

I had the most bizzare dream last night.

In my dream, I was talking to a guy I haven't seen yet in real life. He looks rugged, with short dark hair, small piercing eyes, tanned skin and a moustache or those hairs you see on the face. We were having a conversation that ends up - in sex.

The sex, as far as I remembered was great. If only it was real. Hehe. Anyway, what makes this dream rather freaky is that I haven't been thinking of sex lately, as far as my conscious thoughts are concerned. Despite my relatively dull "activities" with my beau, the thought of... having some little dirty fun with someone else is far from my priorities (that is, as long as I could scare myself to death of my past actions) right now.

Anyway, I just hope that the dream I had is not a manifestation of my inner sleeping demons reminding me again that it's this time of the season when...

...libido is the great enemy.

Especially when most of the time, the messages or "invites" you recieve in G4M comes from people who are,

in every angle irresistable.

Dream Journals Five

"Ma, anuman ang mangyayari hindi kita iiwan."

Apparently, those were the last words I told her while walking along an unfamiliar street in my dream. And to my astonishment, for four hours or so in my sleep, I kept follower her - in my ghost form.

As I remembered it correctly, for the first few scenes of the dream, I wasn't aware that I had already "passed away." I just started to notice it when I began to ask why my mom is being accompanied by other people who can't see me and why is my sister not in the scene.

"Anong nangyari sakin, bakit ayaw mo sabihin?"

Was the question I asked her over and over again while tears and sobs were visible on her face. One of the guys who accompanied her - a guy around the same age as me tried to get close to her only to be brushed away. It seems like she's the only one who can see/feel me. The rest were not aware of my presence.

The dream ended in a scene in a mall where I was still trying to squeeze the answer from her. But she never gave me any response. Despite the fact that she knew I was there, she eventually ignored me.

As I followed her further inside the mall. I noticed this young chubby, dark-skinned lady in an FEU Uniform staring at me. I never met her in person but her appearance was very detailed in my dream. At first, I tried to brush her off. But when she directly looked at me, I was immediately frozen on the spot.

When I woke up, it was already dark.