Dream Journal Entry #3 - The Bear

K and I hid in the female bathroom, but that wasn't enough. Douche followed us in. At the sight of that we hurriedly locked ourselves in a cubicle.

"Hey! Open up!" 

We kept quiet and still. Best approach when dealing with a bear, apparently. 

"I'm not joking. Open up!"

Our cubicle door started taking some punches. K was trying his best not to laugh and I had the big eyes on, with a finger across my lips. 

"What the hell are you two doing in there!?"

Our cubicle door could officially pass as a battered wife. K pressed his body against it in hopes it'd stay up. I couldn't stop smiling my face began to ache.

"Leave us alone mate," K demands, rolling his eyes. He made a wide-eyed, pouty gesture with his lips at me. I laughed.

At that, Douche calmed. I grabbed K's hand, gesturing to stay quiet and wait. K saluted. We were standing there in silence with grins on our face, counting tiles on the floor. 

Suddenly, something fell on my head, something heavy; the same kind of feeling you get when a basketball lands on you from a half-court away.

"She's still mine!" Douche exclaimed. The bastard had managed to climb the throne in the cubicle next to ours, and plant a wet one on my head. At that, K grabbed my hand and we bolted out the cubicle, out the bathroom, down the hallway and ran for the car park. 

K's older brother was waiting outside with the car. Slipping in through the windows like we used to, we were off. "Imagine if we..." and at that, our car fell off a cliff edge and landed upside down, half submerged in a lake and half on the rocky shores.

Doesn't pay to be a cynic in your own dream. 

My hands got caught outside the window for some reason and bent all the way forward, pressed against the car and the rocks. Could really feel that. "You're lucky your wrists are so flexible, kiddo." K slipped to the back seat next to me and unbuckled my seatbelt.

Dream Journal Entry #2 - Safest place on Earth

In an A-Grade, tired asylum, the room had walls 3-storeys tall, mostly painted with outlines of sweat, mold, rain and whatever else. There were rough, elevated platforms along the sides of the room, maybe 5 meters high, and in the middle, a rickety wooden stage, maybe 3 meters high. 

I was in the middle being persecuted by the Chinese Mafia. I'm not too sure what I was being persecuted for, but in came my two old pals J and K.

J ran, jumped and did some 360 twist over the stage before grabbing me and putting me on his back. We were out of there in two seconds, and into the next room which had a basketball court, and a whole load of ramps to skate and shoot on.

K comes in, "someone's taken my job!" he teases. I get off J and hop onto Ks back and he takes me for a run. We're going real fast, defying gravity off walls and ceilings. I tell him, "this is the safest place I've ever known." 

True.

He turns to me to acknowledge my comment, and smiles.

Alarm, Moo-hyun Jang

Fantastic short animated film about waking up.
I especially relate to the bit at 2:30

 Alarm by Moo-hyun Jang

   

 Executive status. I love it.

On cigarettes, floods, and pretentiousness

Coffee and a cigarette.

And these are Hope cigarettes. A dollar a pack, but so yum, especially if you're doing menthols. Apparently, these are what the carpenters smoke here; and everyone looks at you funny when you swing them out and you don't fit the mould. The grins on the cashier's faces when they double-take on what you just ordered. 

I don't know if I'm taking it too seriously but hello class-system.

Which is also apparent when it starts flooding here and while there are people dying from landslides, the other half of the population is whining about their cancelled plans at the mall or what have you. 

And the trend on the comments floating about speak of resilience and the weatherproof Filipino spirit. Is that really what it is? 

It flooded last night. It wasn't too bad on my street. Waters were about knee-high, and quickly subsided soon after the rain stopped. Everyone was handling it so casually. I stuck my head out the window and could hear people laughing, screaming, like they were at an amusement park.

Yan ang Pinoy. Sa dami ng problema, nakuha mo pang ngumiti - ika nga ni Bamboo!

Point being, I don't know if this is something to brag about. 

The TV was on and deaths were being counted, while I was reading on cancelled weekend plans of the "social elite". I began reflecting on what would be done in other countries I've lived in, because collectively, the thing I have going in my head would be the same for the majority, and things would be addressed. Generally speaking, an unhappy majority should equal change.

We're not talking about a raise, more holidays, or women's liberation here. It's the bloody drainage system. 

I said, "why not the get everyone to drop what they're doing and we each get a bit of the drainage system to work on!" - I thought that was pretty smart.

But apparently they're so used to the flooding here, it's become a part of daily routine. In some places, houses stock giant slabs of hollow concrete to elevate all their kitchen appliances when the waters start to rise. To which you could say, wow that's so clever! but it's unsettling. An issue shouldn't be manageable.  It's like an abusive relationship. We shouldn't be saying, "oh it's okay. We're ready for you! Come stay the night!" instead can somebody please be telling the the whole thing to fuck off!

Maybe they're right. Maybe help isn't just around the corner and if you raise your fist to the system, no one gives a damn. 10 billion pesos being spent on mansions, parties and cars, from the hard earned tax money of those who don't have that kind of money to spend. Seriously? This shouldn't have to go on. I want to vomit.

To the lavish and aspiring lavish I say: 

The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines pretentious as:

Having or showing the unpleasant quality of people who want to be regarded as more impressive, successful, or important than they really are. 

Where are all the people with their feet on the ground?

Relator - Pete Yorn and Scarlett Johansson

   

Matthew Cornwall

Genesis (2009)
oil on wood
28" x 39"

Reverie (2007)

oil on wood

8" x 8"

Nantucket Shore (2013)

oil on wood

8" x 11"

Check out the art of Matthew Cornwall 

Dream Journal Entry #1 - Kneel

It wasn't the usual characters in my dream last night. 

The ex dude made a cameo, but he was loitering in the background with some of his bromances. I on the other hand, was setting up tables with my first crush in grade school. We're close friends in the dream. So in the process of chit chat and table setting, a blonde dude, who I'm pretty sure went by the name of Steven (also went to my grade school) came by and sat on the chair just by me.

He held onto my free hand, rubbing my fingers. Looking up at me, he tugged lightly before softly speaking, "I'm so sorry. Give me another chance. I won't take it for granted."

"I've heard that one before," I shrugged.

"I'm not like the one before. I didn't mean to."

I let go of the fork I was about to set in place and turned all my attention to Steve. I locked eyes with his, slipping between his thighs, kneeling on the floor. He leaned over, pressing his forehead on mine as he ran his fingers through my hair, grabbing a little as he closed his eyes.

I put my hands on his neck to warm him, rubbing slightly just below his ears and whispered, "I'm not falling for this shit again, you understand?"

Steve opened his eyes and smiled slightly before stealing a kiss. I kissed back, then stood up and continued plating.

***

Well, I still don't know what Steve did.

You know the thing about dreams; they say that it's the brain's way of coping with the stresses of the day. Its way of making sense of all the shit that doesn't make any sense. In any case, I'm not even gonna delve into this one. Pretty self explanatory. But I'm pretty happy with my progress - with or without the dramatic romances.