The Guests
It was like a set in a talk show. Seated on a couch, I was facing “two guests” who were comfortably slouched on a two-seater couch opposite facing me. Between us was an empty glass-top center table, maybe a foot high. It looked like I was the “host.” I would throw into them interview questions that I can’t recall now. Gamely, they would answer. Then, as we were exchanging incomprehensible talks, I noticed that the “guests” were slowly transforming into two-dimensional figures in sepia. Then I recognized the one on my right-hand side, my dead grandmother, Lola T. Her image was that of a life-size cut-out from an old picture. “How come you’re here? Aren’t you dead?” I asked her. Hearing that, she covered her ears with her hands and screamed with a sound similar to that of a whistling kettle. The look in her face though was that of someone who's just learned of a pleasant surprise, e.g., winning a lottery. Next, she turned black-and-white and disappeared without a trace. Seeing her disappear just like that, I burst into tears and buried my face in my hands, saying sorry that I never visited her wake. In the midst of my remorse, I realized that I was not alone and heard someone comment "It's not in the script." There was still the other “guest,” also left dumbfounded with she had just witnessed. She was in tears, too. But there she was, a two-dimensional figure stuck in a sepia poster that was now hanging on the wall. She said, “Look at them, they’re crying, too.” I turned my head a few degrees shy of a tarsierian. There they were - the “studio” audience. I never noticed them before the “show.” They were there all along. In tears, too, the audience rose to applaud in standing ovation.
This is how the dream ended: A short while after the applause, the audience disappeared leaving me alone in a familiar place. The set was actually the living room (or sala) of my Lola T’s house in Paco, where had I lived from 1987-1999. I looked at the wall where the poster of the “other guest” was hung. It was already blank. Then I sat on the couch, feeling exhausted. As I was about to be lulled into sleep, or about to wake up from this dream, the last images I saw were those of a digital camera sitting on the glass-top center table and a curious white mouse under the same table.
This is how the dream ended: A short while after the applause, the audience disappeared leaving me alone in a familiar place. The set was actually the living room (or sala) of my Lola T’s house in Paco, where had I lived from 1987-1999. I looked at the wall where the poster of the “other guest” was hung. It was already blank. Then I sat on the couch, feeling exhausted. As I was about to be lulled into sleep, or about to wake up from this dream, the last images I saw were those of a digital camera sitting on the glass-top center table and a curious white mouse under the same table.
-o-
Epilogue.
I lived in Lola T’s house for ten and a half years. I didn’t count the half year that I was in Japan (1992) and the 1 year that I was in US (1997-1998).
When Lola T died in February 2007, I was in Singapore. The day before I left for Singapore, I learned that she was in the hospital. I did plan to visit her but the plan completely slipped my mind when I realized I had not yet prepared my things for the next day’s flight. When I came back to Manila 5 days later, I learned that she was already cremated.
Lola T was the wife of my Lola A’s brother. Lola A is my mother’s mother.
The other “guest” in my dream could be Lola A in her younger days. I remember those eyes.
Next week will be my Lola T’s second death anniversary.
{Written on 18 February 2009, the day after the night I had this dream}
I lived in Lola T’s house for ten and a half years. I didn’t count the half year that I was in Japan (1992) and the 1 year that I was in US (1997-1998).
When Lola T died in February 2007, I was in Singapore. The day before I left for Singapore, I learned that she was in the hospital. I did plan to visit her but the plan completely slipped my mind when I realized I had not yet prepared my things for the next day’s flight. When I came back to Manila 5 days later, I learned that she was already cremated.
Lola T was the wife of my Lola A’s brother. Lola A is my mother’s mother.
The other “guest” in my dream could be Lola A in her younger days. I remember those eyes.
Next week will be my Lola T’s second death anniversary.
{Written on 18 February 2009, the day after the night I had this dream}
Comments