Since I am writing this mid-day, most of the details have faded already. I'm sorry.
But here it goes:
I woke up (in the dream) and was in pajamas. I think there was a party that's going to be held in our ancestral house. The day felt that way, people were busy preparing and cooking. I found myself walking away from the house and in the alley toward the neighbors at the back. I saw an old classmate (his name is Marvin) and they asked me what I was doing and I said I was just relaxing and didn't really have anything in mind, and I even tried to prove it by saying, "see? I'm still wearing jammies" Marvin said they have guests coming -- I think it was the city's fiesta because the even seemed city-wide and not just in our house. Everyone was busy preparing something. He told me to melt the butter as people would be coming soon to eat. I had a medium-sized bowl of solid butter which I melted on a tealight candle (a small bowl warmer tray that I have a home -- in real life) and I found that the butter had melted quite fast as I stirred with a spoon and I was happy with the result. I served the bowl of melted butter on their table.
The next scene, it was dark, and it was at our ancestral house. There was a wedding there. Our former housemaid Emma was getting married and was holding the grandest party ever. In my heart, I was happy for her but I was also puzzled why there was a wedding reception in our house. I wasn't questioning why SHE was holding the reception. I didn't care. I just questioned why we were now holding receptions at home.
I'm not sure why I had those images in my dream. Perhaps I regret not being there to see my dream (of turning our old Spanish-style ancestral house to a reception place) come into fruition. We had planned that a long time ago while I was still there, Intramuros-style, elegant, beautiful, quaint.
I've been dreaming of jammies lately too. Perhaps, it's as simple as me wanting and wishful thinking to somehow get some rest. After all, I've been really exhausted in real life lately.
And all my days are trances,
And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy grey eye glances,
And where thy footstep gleams--
In what ethereal dances,
By what eternal streams.
~EDGAR ALLAN POE, To One in Paradise
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment