The Dreams vs. One Dreamer


If not for this weird part of the month, my life would have been 15 percent better.

Saturday evening, leaving my heart in the Queen city, I have finally made up my mind to let you go. Fiona: But don’t leave your identity behind. Travis: Copy that.

Sunday morning I agreed to go to work just to distract myself. In the evening I met up with a friend, Maria Juana (from Info), to catch the last full showing of Star Trek. I enjoyed the distraction, but not the movie experience.

Monday came, there wasn’t really much work to do. NU released very relevant tracks from Cornell and Yorn. I kept on wanting to listen to them because aside from helping me forget my crises, it made me feel that self-healing, forgetting and wanting to stop crying is possible. I’m still confused with Boyd’s Black Heart Inertia though. It’s providential and yet it brings my soul at ease.

Tuesday had gone, nothing much happened, or maybe I was just too dead to notice them. Everything was working well so far. I woke up in the morning, told myself that you are gone forever. I keep myself composed and strong even if every day, the road to Bicutan reminds me of you. I lagged with office papers, proposals and even phone calls my boss have kept reminding me of. I had lunch with strangers, punch out in the afternoon, and took that same scary road.

Came Wednesday: 3AM, I woke up from the worlds of the impossible. For the first time in months, I dreamt of you. Twice, yet uninterrupted. The first one about me begging. Then the second, you… I don’t even want to remember how it happened because remembering makes me want to hope some more. When I finally woke up, it made me want to bring myself back to square one. Back to when chances were still possible, I, alone, was accountable. Mayer knows how to play his words right: When you’re dreaming of a broken heart, waking up is the hardest part.

Thursday, a little past three in the morning, there I was again, awaken by that same shattered would be memories. Thanks to Jena, I had someone to relate to, and it made me feel normal. I don’t remember anything important about that day, except for the fact that the three consecutive pleasantries have brought me deep solitude and longing for you. In the evening I went to bed scared of what my next sleep is in store for me. And then,

Friday at 3:49 in the morning: it was probably the longest dream I had about you for months, probably for years. Or maybe it’s just because it’s been so long since I have been WITH a dream. I dreamt about you again twice, but this time it was interrupted by my sister. I couldn’t remember what exactly they were about, but you were there. I felt you.

When I woke up, I did the usual, I got up and took the expressway. In the office, I distracted myself by making boxes for things I wish I could have again from you – sweet sweat, cigarette breaths, half –smacks and late sunshines. As good as a vice president of the company of your mom is, I wish she can bottle me up some of those from you. She would secretly extract those supplies in your sleep and put them in pantone colored jars. I miss her by the way. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when she was hospitalized. I hope she’s okay now.

Early evening on my way home, Travis: Favor, lets swap beds for the night. Help me avoid my nightmares. Josua: Okay.

Saturday: almost twelve hours of dreamless sleep. I didn’t know how I should feel. Should I celebrate because the nightmare seemed to have rested and given me a break? Or should I mourn because it ceased; the pleasantries in my sleep have stopped. Again. In the evening I made a long distance call to K. He’s the only one who seems to understand. He knows so much about this, about this kind of longing, this kind of helplessness because being an expert on this type of tragedy, I’m sure he’s had his share of my kind of situation. There wasn’t much hope for the two of us in his tone, which I think was good. That seems to be the only way that I will find my sanity back again. I told him about my selfish thoughts and he was just right there, listening, understanding.

Travis on the phone with K: you know what the weirdest parts of my dreams are? One: I know that it’s around three in the morning that B usually lies down to sleep. I go and dream about us when B finally decides to dream about someone else. And two: all these happened before and during the twenty second.

You probably don’t remember me telling you this, but some of the déjà vus that I’ve had were from the dreams that I don’t usually remember when I wake up. I had so much of them recently. The sad part about these pleasant nightmares is that I remember some of them, and so I know all of them will never happen anymore.

So, tonight: Saturday evening, or very early Sunday morning, I wonder if the dreams will continue. Either way is okay, I guess. I wonder, however, if last night was just a break because my third brain has realized that it’s been punishing me too much. Or has my third brain finally came up with a way to die with a bang?

Romantics have their way of offering every bit of detail of the world to the person they truly treasure. Perhaps the hardest part of being one of them is when you finally need to withdraw all these details, one by one, place them in a vacuum and wait for them to be meaningless again.


PS.
You’ve finally finished and defended your thesis. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to support you. But you know I’m proud of you right? Very proud. Congrats againÜ