Dream 05/11 -12/2007
I stood in front of a panel of judges. I had no idea what I was on trial for nor what I did wrong. Only that I was in a square room with wooden flooring, sitting on a single stool with a table and five chairs lined up directly in front of me.
An older woman with gray hair and glasses spoke first. "Well, so we meet again," she said calmly.
I scratched my head and squirmed around in my chair, surprised that it spun around.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, ma'am. I've never seen you before," I answered.
She smiled, looking at her peers. An African-American man with a short beard and thick eyebrows returned her gesture and looked over to me.
"We know you wouldn't remember us, but we know your story quite well..." he trailed off.
A younger Asian woman with a slick ponytail finished his sentence by saying, "What he means is you've been here before...in your dreams, but this time it's for real."
"Ok...you've managed to confuse me even more. I'm sorry. Where am I? What is this place?" I asked, trying to remain calm.
"Middle-ground," they replied.
It appears that right before you die, your spirit leaves its physical form to visit a place where it can decide your fate in the after-life. There are a few options to choose from, however at the time of your decision all you know is one thing: what your last senses will experience on Earth.
(1) Loud bang, bright light (sound and sight) - a thunderous boom followed by a white glare
(2) With the sweet, comes the sour (taste) - two different flavors you have never tried before
(3) Hurt (touch) - physical pain
The experience slowly came back to haunt me. The image was hazy, but I can make out a few little details. I was lying on a hospital bed, wearing a blue patient gown. A series of beeping noises hovered over me and I swore I could make out sobbing but from whom, I couldn't tell. A woman in a white suit placed her hand on my forehead and closed my eyes. Suddenly, a massive boom echoed throughout the room. My ears grew numb and the silence was overbearing. I carefully opened my eyes to see what was around me, but a stream of white light seeped into my eyelids and drowned out all the color.
And now I'm in this room where a panel of judges sit before me.
(To be continued...)
About Me
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Deja Vu
It happened in my head and before I knew it, there I was. Nightmares do come true.
It was windy. The sun crept up just enough to show itself over his rooftop as I carefully made my way up his curved driveway. The loose pavement rustled underneath the soles of my shoes. He opened his door and stepped out, scratching the back of his head as if saying, “uh-oh not again.”
I just stared at him, brushing strands of hair away from my face so that he won’t miss my eyes. He knew something was up. He put both hands in his pockets as we met half way.
“Hey,” he said.
“How could you do this to me?” I asked in disbelief, a cold shiver sent chills up my spine.
“So this is it then,” he said, completely avoiding my question.
“Guess so,” I uttered.
I turned away and walked back to my car knowing in my heart it would be the last time I felt real love for him. I woke up quietly sobbing.
A month or so passed.
I was at work. An unsettling feeling hovered over me like a gray cloud ready to burst. I paid no attention to it at first, but for some reason I couldn’t shake it off no matter how hard I tried. It was lunchtime. I put my leftover Alfredo pasta in the microwave and as it spun, I dialed his number. Busy.
A minute went by. The food was hot. I dialed again. Busy. I lost my appetite. No word from him last night. No call that morning…Now busy. Someone else had his attention. I couldn’t take it. Dial the heart-wrenching “323.” Then there in the middle of the break room, as my pasta dried, I knew.
“Hello,” he muttered.
He knew it was me even before he finally answered my call.
“You did it again,” I said.
He sighed. I broke down in tears, grabbed my stuff and left. As I drove, sad songs blasting from my car, the sun began to set.
I parked in front of his wooden fence, stepped out and began to walk up.
Déjà vu.
It was windy. The sun crept up just enough to show itself over his rooftop as I carefully made my way up his curved driveway. The loose pavement rustled underneath the soles of my shoes. He opened his door and stepped out, scratching the back of his head as if saying, “uh-oh not again.”
I just stared at him, brushing strands of hair away from my face so that he won’t miss my eyes. He knew something was up. He put both hands in his pockets as we met half way.
“Hey,” he said.
“How could you do this to me?” I asked in disbelief, a cold shiver sent chills up my spine.
“So this is it then,” he said, completely avoiding my question.
“Guess so,” I uttered.
I turned away and walked back to my car knowing in my heart it would be the last time I felt real love for him. I woke up quietly sobbing.
A month or so passed.
I was at work. An unsettling feeling hovered over me like a gray cloud ready to burst. I paid no attention to it at first, but for some reason I couldn’t shake it off no matter how hard I tried. It was lunchtime. I put my leftover Alfredo pasta in the microwave and as it spun, I dialed his number. Busy.
A minute went by. The food was hot. I dialed again. Busy. I lost my appetite. No word from him last night. No call that morning…Now busy. Someone else had his attention. I couldn’t take it. Dial the heart-wrenching “323.” Then there in the middle of the break room, as my pasta dried, I knew.
“Hello,” he muttered.
He knew it was me even before he finally answered my call.
“You did it again,” I said.
He sighed. I broke down in tears, grabbed my stuff and left. As I drove, sad songs blasting from my car, the sun began to set.
I parked in front of his wooden fence, stepped out and began to walk up.
Déjà vu.
Insomnia
It is half past 5am. The sun is still asleep and after having my eyes closed for several hours, you would think I would be asleep too. A new year has begun and it's about time I start facing my fears. The candle flickered just enough to cast dancing shadows to keep me company. And as I tossed and turned, I realized peace will be far from me tonight.
I used to have reoccurring nightmares of being lost in the woods or falling off a tall building or my ultimate favorite, chased by a killer in the dark. All of which share one thing in common: I'm utterly and completely alone.
Sometimes I would wake up unsure if I'm truly awake. I'd dig my nails into the palm of my hands and as the pain shot through my skin, I'd still think twice if my eyes were really open. I'd check around me.
Check to see if my boyfriend had a pulse. Clench tightly to my comforter to see if I could feel the feathers between the stitches. Then, through careful consideration, I'd slowly get up and let my barefeet grace the carpet before making my way to the door. I knew that if anything were hard to fake, it's the cold air seeping through the cracks, making their way in-between my toes.
Cold air.
My toes start to wiggle.
Sigh of relief.
I used to have reoccurring nightmares of being lost in the woods or falling off a tall building or my ultimate favorite, chased by a killer in the dark. All of which share one thing in common: I'm utterly and completely alone.
Sometimes I would wake up unsure if I'm truly awake. I'd dig my nails into the palm of my hands and as the pain shot through my skin, I'd still think twice if my eyes were really open. I'd check around me.
Check to see if my boyfriend had a pulse. Clench tightly to my comforter to see if I could feel the feathers between the stitches. Then, through careful consideration, I'd slowly get up and let my barefeet grace the carpet before making my way to the door. I knew that if anything were hard to fake, it's the cold air seeping through the cracks, making their way in-between my toes.
Cold air.
My toes start to wiggle.
Sigh of relief.
Dream A Nightmare
Dreams are moments where we can do or say anything without suffering any consequences. A horror movie taught me that. I was ten when I first tried to control it and here's what happened.
FLY
I stand motionless. Stuck out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by high, sharp boulders. Creepy sounds and red eyes darted from every direction. I panic, slowly backing up against the rocks. Its surface feels smooth against my skin. I pinch myself. Nothing. No pain. "Shit, I must be dreaming and I can’t wake myself up," I muttered underneath my breath. I shake my head in disbelief. Then the sounds grew louder. The eyes came closer revealing their monstrous form. I shut my eyes and open them again. Still stuck. I fall backwards refusing to face it. I start to cry. Its hot breath penetrates the back of my neck. I scream and hear silence. My mouth is frozen. Then, almost as if I’ve done it before, I stretch my arms out, flap it up and down as fast as I could and begin to float. Higher and higher. And then I was safe.
ONE LOUD BANG
"Just shoot 'em in the head...one time...that's it," these words spoken by a stearn male voice echoed in my head as I stood there holding the gun. It felt cold against my hands. Sweat dripped down the sides of my face. I wiped it away with my shoulder. The target turned to face me. Startled, I try to steady my aim. I don't know which one of us looked more afraid. He was young with light, brown eyes and pale skin. His hands trembled in the air. "Please...," he stuttered. "Shut up, just shut up," I shouted, suprised at my own volume. My fingers began to swell. The metal numbed my skin. He got up slowly. "Stay still or I'll shoot," I said, calmly placing my index finger against the trigger. "You've never done this before," he muttered. "What," I asked. He moved in closer, the look of fear leaving him with every step he takes. "You've never done this before," he said clearly with a sly grin as if he was now holding the weapon at me. I didn't move then suddenly a loud bang woke up my nerves. He fell forwards.
POOR "PINATA"
His face, full of excitement, ran into the room to grab some attention. People poured out through the sliding, back door to get a glimpse. I stayed behind the protective glass. A green, clunky, run-down piece of junk jeep dangling from a rope balanced over a large staircase as he and his boys, beer can in hand, tried their best to kick it over without knocking it down. Sand and dust drizzled over the railing. The smell of burnt rubber against the concrete steps permeated the cool night air. Cheers from the crowd pumped up their egos as the rope continued to strangle the poor tree branch.
FLY
I stand motionless. Stuck out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by high, sharp boulders. Creepy sounds and red eyes darted from every direction. I panic, slowly backing up against the rocks. Its surface feels smooth against my skin. I pinch myself. Nothing. No pain. "Shit, I must be dreaming and I can’t wake myself up," I muttered underneath my breath. I shake my head in disbelief. Then the sounds grew louder. The eyes came closer revealing their monstrous form. I shut my eyes and open them again. Still stuck. I fall backwards refusing to face it. I start to cry. Its hot breath penetrates the back of my neck. I scream and hear silence. My mouth is frozen. Then, almost as if I’ve done it before, I stretch my arms out, flap it up and down as fast as I could and begin to float. Higher and higher. And then I was safe.
ONE LOUD BANG
"Just shoot 'em in the head...one time...that's it," these words spoken by a stearn male voice echoed in my head as I stood there holding the gun. It felt cold against my hands. Sweat dripped down the sides of my face. I wiped it away with my shoulder. The target turned to face me. Startled, I try to steady my aim. I don't know which one of us looked more afraid. He was young with light, brown eyes and pale skin. His hands trembled in the air. "Please...," he stuttered. "Shut up, just shut up," I shouted, suprised at my own volume. My fingers began to swell. The metal numbed my skin. He got up slowly. "Stay still or I'll shoot," I said, calmly placing my index finger against the trigger. "You've never done this before," he muttered. "What," I asked. He moved in closer, the look of fear leaving him with every step he takes. "You've never done this before," he said clearly with a sly grin as if he was now holding the weapon at me. I didn't move then suddenly a loud bang woke up my nerves. He fell forwards.
POOR "PINATA"
His face, full of excitement, ran into the room to grab some attention. People poured out through the sliding, back door to get a glimpse. I stayed behind the protective glass. A green, clunky, run-down piece of junk jeep dangling from a rope balanced over a large staircase as he and his boys, beer can in hand, tried their best to kick it over without knocking it down. Sand and dust drizzled over the railing. The smell of burnt rubber against the concrete steps permeated the cool night air. Cheers from the crowd pumped up their egos as the rope continued to strangle the poor tree branch.
Scout
Let me share with you just what kind of tricks my mind plays on my heart. Once again, it happens most often when I sleep...
A pile of laundry sits next to the newly refinished bathtub complete with gold fixtures. Large, thick glass windows surround the beige, marble floors. With a touch of a single button, the lights dim while soothing music spills out of the hidden speakers in each corner of the room. Warm water slowly pours into the tub as I sink both feet in, pushing the bubbles with my toes. I pull the laundry closer to me and began folding a pair of khaki shorts as he enters the room.
I smile, but his face remains expressionless. "Hey," he said.
"Baby, jump in the water is just warming up," I say with enthusiasm.
"I'm not staying long," he says coldly, looking out the window.
"C'mon, it'll be fun," I said.
He looks at me, unamused with my excitement.
"No," he said bluntly.
I got up so quickly I almost slipped, grabbed a towel off the hanging rack and threw it on the ground.
While frantically patting my feet dry, I yell, "Why don't you ever just give in for once and do what I wanna do for a change?"
His eyes began to shrink. His lips slowly tightening up. I knew then his temper was about to flare up, but I couldn't control myself.
"Who the hell put a stick up your ass anyway?” I mumbled.
He ran over to me and kicked the clean clothes into the tub.
With a sly grin he said calmly, “Guess, they’re dirty again.”
I squat down, pulling the soaked shirts and pants out, tossing them over to his neatly placed khaki shorts.
“These are your clothes. You could wash them again your damn self,” I retorted.
He grabbed my arm and yanked me up to his level.
“Don’t tempt me,” he muttered through his grinding teeth.
I stared blankly into his beady, little eyes.
“I just did,” I said with no hesitation.
His tight grip briefly stopped my blood flow, leaving red marks on my arm as he finally let go. He stormed out of the house and into the front yard stretching his arms out from side to side as if surrendering him out of this torn relationship.
That’s when she walked over.
Even-tanned, brunette with itty-bitty white shorts and a baby black tee. I stayed behind the pillar.
“Hey,” she said flirtatiously.
“Hey,” he said back with a smile I haven’t seen in over six months.
He put his arms down and walked over to her.
“I’m trying to find my cat,” she said brushing her hair away from her perfect complexion.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said with genuine concern.
“What’s its name?” he asked.
“It’s a He and it’s ‘Scout,’ mine’s ‘L’…"she trailed off. (I couldn’t make it out.)
“Nice to meet you. Now let’s scout for ‘Scout,’” he giggled.
That’s how he has always been. So sweet to strangers, pretty ones at that. And there I stood behind the pillar watching how a ‘nobody’ ignited a side of him I used to see.
A pile of laundry sits next to the newly refinished bathtub complete with gold fixtures. Large, thick glass windows surround the beige, marble floors. With a touch of a single button, the lights dim while soothing music spills out of the hidden speakers in each corner of the room. Warm water slowly pours into the tub as I sink both feet in, pushing the bubbles with my toes. I pull the laundry closer to me and began folding a pair of khaki shorts as he enters the room.
I smile, but his face remains expressionless. "Hey," he said.
"Baby, jump in the water is just warming up," I say with enthusiasm.
"I'm not staying long," he says coldly, looking out the window.
"C'mon, it'll be fun," I said.
He looks at me, unamused with my excitement.
"No," he said bluntly.
I got up so quickly I almost slipped, grabbed a towel off the hanging rack and threw it on the ground.
While frantically patting my feet dry, I yell, "Why don't you ever just give in for once and do what I wanna do for a change?"
His eyes began to shrink. His lips slowly tightening up. I knew then his temper was about to flare up, but I couldn't control myself.
"Who the hell put a stick up your ass anyway?” I mumbled.
He ran over to me and kicked the clean clothes into the tub.
With a sly grin he said calmly, “Guess, they’re dirty again.”
I squat down, pulling the soaked shirts and pants out, tossing them over to his neatly placed khaki shorts.
“These are your clothes. You could wash them again your damn self,” I retorted.
He grabbed my arm and yanked me up to his level.
“Don’t tempt me,” he muttered through his grinding teeth.
I stared blankly into his beady, little eyes.
“I just did,” I said with no hesitation.
His tight grip briefly stopped my blood flow, leaving red marks on my arm as he finally let go. He stormed out of the house and into the front yard stretching his arms out from side to side as if surrendering him out of this torn relationship.
That’s when she walked over.
Even-tanned, brunette with itty-bitty white shorts and a baby black tee. I stayed behind the pillar.
“Hey,” she said flirtatiously.
“Hey,” he said back with a smile I haven’t seen in over six months.
He put his arms down and walked over to her.
“I’m trying to find my cat,” she said brushing her hair away from her perfect complexion.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said with genuine concern.
“What’s its name?” he asked.
“It’s a He and it’s ‘Scout,’ mine’s ‘L’…"she trailed off. (I couldn’t make it out.)
“Nice to meet you. Now let’s scout for ‘Scout,’” he giggled.
That’s how he has always been. So sweet to strangers, pretty ones at that. And there I stood behind the pillar watching how a ‘nobody’ ignited a side of him I used to see.
Aging Youth
I woke up in tears from this dream sadly realizing that it is becoming more of a reality.
The entire family is sitting in her living room. The very first place we truly called "home" in the United States. Serious faces, no laughter. Not like our usual get-togethers anymore. She sits calmly in a chair in the corner, small and frail, wrapped in a pink bathrobe. Almost in a daze, she looks up at the white ceiling and dozes off.
I just watch her, recalling the days in which she would boast about how strong she was and how powerful her memory continued to be. A religious woman who followed tradition as if it were the only way and now she sits, unable to move without assistance as her thoughts leave her one by one. I wonder why it is that the two things she prided herself on the most were being taken away from her like a spoiled brat torn from their favorite toy.
Her five daughters pay no attention to her. Her youngest son leads the discussion of what is to become of her as if it were some kind of business meeting. Almost all of them were ready to let her go. Having to discuss when and where they could arrange “watching” her. As adults, they act like children. Whining that a moment with their mother would interfere with their schedules and yet they find it surprising that she would not want to be anywhere else besides with her eldest son.
He leaves the circle and does what he does best, takes care of things that need to be taken care of: making sure she is still breathing. Her body helplessly plops down into his arms. He catches her in shock that this time no air entered her lungs. The others slowly stood up, hands covering their mouths. Fake tears start to form on their faces.
Then she starts to shrink. Her skin carefully smoothing out the wrinkles of age, her gray hair sheds revealing her regained youth. Nobody reacts. In a matter of minutes, there in the corner chair, on top of the pink bathrobe, lies a baby.
The daughters rejoice. Each one wants to take turns holding this beautiful, innocent child as if it were their own. The youngest son puts down his notepad and walks over.
Real life somehow found its way into these dead souls.
When at her worst, she is abandoned with the son she deemed as the “black sheep," the only one she remembers while the rest are just strangers in a strange place she used to call “home.”
They discarded her as an old woman as if in fear that this will become their fate with time, yet they embraced her youth as if the slightest touch could turn back the clock.
Her eldest son chose to face the facts as he quietly leaves the room, mourning the loss of their mother.
Age is inevitable.
The entire family is sitting in her living room. The very first place we truly called "home" in the United States. Serious faces, no laughter. Not like our usual get-togethers anymore. She sits calmly in a chair in the corner, small and frail, wrapped in a pink bathrobe. Almost in a daze, she looks up at the white ceiling and dozes off.
I just watch her, recalling the days in which she would boast about how strong she was and how powerful her memory continued to be. A religious woman who followed tradition as if it were the only way and now she sits, unable to move without assistance as her thoughts leave her one by one. I wonder why it is that the two things she prided herself on the most were being taken away from her like a spoiled brat torn from their favorite toy.
Her five daughters pay no attention to her. Her youngest son leads the discussion of what is to become of her as if it were some kind of business meeting. Almost all of them were ready to let her go. Having to discuss when and where they could arrange “watching” her. As adults, they act like children. Whining that a moment with their mother would interfere with their schedules and yet they find it surprising that she would not want to be anywhere else besides with her eldest son.
He leaves the circle and does what he does best, takes care of things that need to be taken care of: making sure she is still breathing. Her body helplessly plops down into his arms. He catches her in shock that this time no air entered her lungs. The others slowly stood up, hands covering their mouths. Fake tears start to form on their faces.
Then she starts to shrink. Her skin carefully smoothing out the wrinkles of age, her gray hair sheds revealing her regained youth. Nobody reacts. In a matter of minutes, there in the corner chair, on top of the pink bathrobe, lies a baby.
The daughters rejoice. Each one wants to take turns holding this beautiful, innocent child as if it were their own. The youngest son puts down his notepad and walks over.
Real life somehow found its way into these dead souls.
When at her worst, she is abandoned with the son she deemed as the “black sheep," the only one she remembers while the rest are just strangers in a strange place she used to call “home.”
They discarded her as an old woman as if in fear that this will become their fate with time, yet they embraced her youth as if the slightest touch could turn back the clock.
Her eldest son chose to face the facts as he quietly leaves the room, mourning the loss of their mother.
Age is inevitable.
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