You Are Viewing Dream Diary

There are dreams that fade within the depth of the sleeping consciousness. There are also dreams that seem to open doors to a sub reality that in actuality is the reality we can not recognize with our eyes open. It’s as if eyes wide shut can see beyond the simple clarity of light.

I am standing on the platform of the elevated train station.  My cousin has arrived to pick me up. I tell him I have lost my cell phone.  He gives me a watch and tells me I can reach him using the watch. I look at the watch, the hands are standing still.  I don’t believe I will be able to call him with it.  Suddenly it starts pouring.  He shelters me and gives me a pair of galoshes.  I put the boots on and we head out into the pouring rain. We are in the park now. The rain has stopped and the sun is shining bright. We start chasing colorful balloons across the park.  I feel happy and we are laughing. We embrace and kiss gently.  I feel safe.

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When I was a child, I dreamed a lot. Some I never got the chance to retell because they were blurry while others were too vivid that I can still remember them today. When my dreams became too scary and frightening for me, I just ran to my mommy and would tell her my dreams with it’s  every detail. She, on the other hand, would patiently listen to my ramblings no matter how outrageous it may be. There were also times I would wake her up in the middle of the night just to tell my dreams. They seemed endless, like a river steadily streaming down to nowhere and I was compelled to tell for no particular reason. The weird part was, my nanny would scribble away in her diary afterwards. I never asked why.

Few years forward, I remember this one sunny afternoon when I felt so dizzy I need to sleep it off. I was about to see my friends so I tried to shake it off but to no avail. I ended up snoozing on the sofa. As usual, I dreamed. I dreamed of being in a car with my dad. I was talking incessantly and he was so intent on driving, like he never heard me. Everything seemed fine until an old man suddenly appeared in front of the car and my dad swerved sharply to avoid the old man. Unfortunately, we went off the road and down the cliff. I remembered meeting my dad’s sad eyes before my nanny woke me up after hearing me scream nonstop. She quickly brought me water to drink while I burst out the dream like a mad girl. As I calmed down, she told me never to tell anyone about this dream. My friends came and soon I forgot all about the dream I had. Only, when I got home, my nanny was sitting in the front porch waiting for me to come home and told me the news:  that my father died in a car accident.

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For as long as man has dreamed of flight, the fountain of youth, treasures beyond belief, which is a direct consequence of our ability to dream. For as long as humans can remember we have dreamed. Some have dreamed of better days, while others have nightmares. The dream that I will share with you is quite peculiar, and you will see why.

Dreams can be extremely realistic depending on the individual, or very surreal. Most dreams defy the logic of being awake, yet they still transfer a sense of importance in our lives. While some disregard dreams as nothing more than a jumble of memories, others may tell the future while asleep. Edgar Evans Cayce, or the sleeping prophet, is regarded as the Nostradamus of our time and the most well documented psychic of our time. Though it remains a topic of debate, and one that continues to intrigue the imagination, Mr. Casey was also the most accurate of the psychics in history. In his words “that lack of interest is the reason for poor dream recall; that only the dreamer knows the meaning of his dream; and that a dream is correctly interpreted when it makes sense to the dreamer, when it checks out with his other dreams, and when it moves him forward in his life”, as he put so eloquently.

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I often dream of this man, a faceless man. His face, I cannot see but deep down inside me, I feel that somehow I know him—whether from the past, the present or the future, I just knew.

This man always manifests in my dreams when I feel doubt or unexplained fear. For those times I seemed to have lost myself and felt there’s no way to go anymore, he’s always there waiting for me, not speaking but communicating through the heart. I can feel his messages but no words were ever spoken. I feel his eyes looking through mine yet I couldn’t see his face, much less his eyes. I just feel his comforting warmth every time he visits me. Most of the time, it’s a welcome gesture for me because he seldom visits me when I’m okay—only for those times I needed someone to assure me that everything will be alright, he never failed to be there. His visits never failed to clear my head and soon after each visit, I feel confident that I can quickly arrive to the right decision for the problem at hand.

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Cars honking, people chattering, busy streets for as miles as he can see. He stands, stunned with what is before his very eyes. “Where am I? What am I doing here?” He pondered and felt as though as he is lost in an unfamiliar place. He walks into an extremely tall building afraid and feels like he has just vanished from the very bed he slept in. As he approached a tall dark desk, which sat a man whom had brown and blondish hair, dressed in uniform, and greeted the young boy with a crooked smile this unknown man said, “Are you lost kiddo?” The child seemed speechless, still confused at where he is, and how he arrived in this strange place. The boy then answered and said “Yes sir, I am lost…where am I”. The tall gentlemen beyond the desk immediately answered with a bright smile saying, “You are in New York City within the South Tower World Trade Center, this majestic piece of art has 110 floors, and is one of the tallest buildings known to man”.

The boy wondered how he became to be in the lobby of a building in New York City. As he glanced at the clock which read 8:30 a.m. the man behind the desk said, “Do you need help with anything?” The boy appeared speechless, confused, and held back his tears of fear, the child then stuttered an answer saying, “Where is the restroom?” The man then replied back saying “up stairs to left”. The young child walked to what he saw as moving stairs, which seemed to confuse him even more. As he got on the moving stairs arriving to the top, he walked to men’s restroom, went into a stall, sat in the corner and cried.

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He sits on the edge of his bed, looking outside the window; puzzled at what he sees. The moon appeared so close, like a person in the room. It was a beautiful bright color of white and gray, rounded in perfection. He grew shocked to discover there is a person standing upon the moon.

After minutes of passing time goes by, this figure standing on the moon speaks and says “Billy”. The young man then becomes aware of the familiar voice. It was his father! Billy then asked, “Why are you on the moon dad? Will you be home from work soon?” Billy’s father stood heartbroken at those very words. He didn’t know what words to say to his young child, eyes filled with such innocence sitting upon his bed awaiting an answer.

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Cars honking, people chattering, sky scrappers blooming, just some things outside the apartment window. The majestic city of New York lies on the threshold of this window. A tranquil sleep under your warm sheets that enclose you from the chilly air outside the window, whilst awaking to the birds chirping and sun was rising.

Music playing to the strike of your excitement, and coffee dripping to the beat of your heart equals perfection. Layering up for the infamous wintry NY weather, on the verge of heading to the streets just outside your door, you take a deep breathe. As you walk the busy streets of this beautiful lighted city that frames your individuality, this moment feels so blissful.

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It was late and the moon was vividly gleaming thru my bedroom window. It was a cold and wary night. I knew it was late because I can here my parents fighting in the next room. I could tell my sister was fast asleep because of her face; she looked so peaceful, like she was dreaming of running down the beach to jump in the beautiful blue ocean. I was seven years of age that day.

As I laid in my bed looking at the moon as though it was a clock just waiting, waiting for another day, another hour, waiting to see the sun, just hoping that day would end. When I heard my parents start to calm down and go to bed, I got out of my bed and started to the door. As I put my hand upon the doorknob I heard someone coming. I knew because we had wood floor and it would make this screeching sound as you walk around the house. I scattered back to my bed and heard the door open, it was my mother to kiss us goodnight, and I heard a light whisper from my mother’s lips to my ear saying “Happy Birthday”.

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Kaloo scampered about me, leaping at me and licking my neck and face while I held him for a few seconds, every time he put his muzzle against me. My heart was bursting with the joy of my loving pet’s company. I don’t remember how long it lasted but some reckless moment in time put an end to the sweet dream and I opened my eyes to the view of my lonely room. It was December 06, 2008 – more than 9 years after Kaloo’s death (the lachrymose night of June 20, 1999). With a heavy heart, still beating the rhythm of the happy dream, I got up to face the challenges of the day.

This recent dream of my late pet dog is not a rare experience of an emotional scene set in a unique mental studio. Seeing my late kin close to me, the living ones departing, and a range of other emotional situations, has become a familiar phenomenon that repeats itself, every now and then, without any conscious effort. Dreams connect me to the past; take me to the future; and even paint a living and breathing picture of my present – all this without charging me a dime. Generous dreams!

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A year ago, I lost my mother to cancer. That was the darkest, confusing time of my life, since I fought right alongside with her during her year and a half ordeal and I was there when she finally gave up. I was not ready to give her up, not yet but I have to, the cancer ate her whole body right from the brain down to her ovaries. She was more ready than I was so I let her go.

I wasn’t given the time to mourn. Being her eldest, all responsibilities fell unto me so I have to be strong. There were times I cried myself to sleep for her and in my dreams, she’s there, waiting for me. There in my dreams, she would talk to me for hours and hours, until the sun comes up and I have to wake up. About 5 months later after that, I lost my job, and had a bitter spat with my father. All throughout those times, all I have to do is sleep and I will meet my mother in my dreams, comforting me and telling me how much she loves me.

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