Bad Dreams
Story — redesigndavid @ 11:32 pm

I’ve been having vivid dreams this last week that unnerve me for days after waking up. The first dream ended with me dying. The second, with someone else’s death. I will narrate both dreams here, not to entertain readers, but rather to dispell their effects upon me (I usually lose opinions upon subjects after setting putting them in writing).

The first dream happened last week. It was a Wednesday or Thurseday, I am not sure. Probably even Friday. I was in the parking lot below our building. I was standing in one of the vacant parking spaces and in front of me was a guy with no hair. He was breathing heavy, making hissing sounds, staring at me, with dark brooding eyes. I said I was sorry. (Somehow I automatically knew I’ve done something). But his breathing became heavier and more frequent. I said it would never happen again. This enraged him even more. His face started to go red.

EarlyHDBFlats Bad Dreams

It seems funny even to myself now that I think about it on hind-sight, but during the dream my heart felt like a train in full throttle. I was begging the guy for forgiveness, I wasn’t sure what for, but his face turned dark blue and then even purple. I dropped to my knees and pleaded him to understand that it will never happen again. I cried I’ll go back to the Philippines. Nothing assuaged his anger.

By now he was already shaking with such fury. Then he took one full solid step toward me and swung his leg forward aiming for the side of my head. using my body as a giant tee. My ears reddened. But before I felt the blow, I woke up and discovered I only had 30 minutes to bath and commute to work (a total impossibility). I stayed in bed a bit more to wipe my eyes and face and try setting myself in order. I told my sister about the dream and I also said “just in case I didn’t return that evening, you know what description to give the police when they ask about my assailant.” She answered “yeah, I’ll tell them to look for a bald man with a face that turns red and then violet.”

I started walking to the bus stop. On the way I passed by the exact parking slot where my dream occurred. There was a car parked on it. A bluish-grey sedan. But then I remembered the details of my dream. How vivid the colors were. To even dream in color, I read once was not so common. I could see how the guy’s face shifted color. It seemed so real. OMG! Then when I saw Pacqiao’s fight the other day, my assailant looked exactly Cotto, which might just be coincedence cuz I never researched about the fight until yesterday. He was more confident in the parking lot than in the ring. I was doubly happy when Pacqiao won.

My other dream was this morning. I was in the backseat of a dim-tinted SUV with my mom beside me. In the shotgun seat was this lady that my mom was ministering to because she lost her husband. And although my mom was ministering to the lady in the shotgun seat, I knew somehow her words were also meant for me, penetrating me like how roots win-over against the ruined walls of fallen civilizations. I hugged my mom but I put my head behind her back so that she wouldn’t see me crying.

Somehow I knew that we weren’t going to the funeral of the husband of the lady in the shotgun seat. But rather where we were driving to was more connected to me than to anybody else. I knew also that they were bringing me to our destination and that the lady was only there for support. Curiously, I also noticed that there was no driver in the driver’s seat the entire time and that the windshield was tintless and it allowed the bright sunlight in so that I could only make out a few cars in the road ahead of us (I know what this signifies. I honestly saw there that was no driver.)

Though I do not understand the entire dream, I don’t even know where we were headed, I at least know that no mere human was driving my life. I truly believe this means that though things are painful, God is in control. The bright light may have been the shekhinah of God’s presence. I woke up unable to control my emotion. I let it out with much heaving and silent wailing. If I wasn’t late for work again, I would have laid prostrate much longer.

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