Thursday, June 18, 2009

I'm still at work

I should have left a couple of hours ago, but I'm still here, surfing the Internet, chatting on Yahoo, updating my blog, but doing nothing, really.

There are days when I feel I've built a whole lot of nothing in my life. Fortunately, the days I feel otherwise are more numerous. Unfortunately, this isn't one of those days--and it hasn't been one of those days for a couple of days now.

I've been having strange dreams that blend some sort of ecstasy with a strange level of agony.

I dreamed of going to a really disgustingly crowded festival in Spain (and wondering if I should look up old friends and slap them on the face--kidding about the slapping part, maybe), and not really getting to the festival itself, but going up on a footbridge to escape the pulsing madness, where my friends and I and nobody else encounter beautiful flocks of birds that flutter around us, leaving gifts of balloons and books and colorful Coca-cola bottles. I want to shout to the festival crowd to look up, but I am too far above. A raven speaks to me, shows me a non-winning lottery ticket meant for some other sad and sick girl, and flies off with my red balloon to make her happy. I wave the raven a happy farewell and wish it does its job well.

I dreamed of heading for Japan, on a plane, with my grad school friend Jenny and PhilSTAR friend Jing's daughter Cen-cen. The plane had colorful bunk beds for seats. I walk the wide aisle, find the refrigerator bearing limitless foil packs of fruit juice and packs of cream and feta cheese. A passenger gets some cheese, and two flight attendants scold him because they were for flight attendants only. I smile at them conspiratorially, as if I hadn't been thinking of getting some cheese for myself, and politely ask for more fruit juice. Suddenly, the plane lurches forward, and for a minute, I convince myself that it has taken off, but when I look out the window, I realize it is driving all the way across my country, using it as one long runway.

And the view is spectacular, but it seems that I'm the only one really enjoying it: There's a pink dugong in the waters; a whale; a house carved between caves; a beautiful beach house on a tiny island with three statues of women leading the way to its door; a market made of bamboo featuring handmade furniture that made generous use of capiz and other shells; a festival; a church dedicated to St. Therese in the Muslim part of Mindanao. From Manila, the plane goes to Iloilo, then Davao, passing through many things in full color. Then it heads back to Manila to finally fly to Japan.

When it's finally flying, I remember I didn't bring money. I didn't have my ATM. But my mother was on the plane, and she had a flat in Nagoya where we could stay. I decide to be zen about it, and then suddenly, we're back home and Jenny is telling me what a nice trip we had.

REM sleep, but no rest, so I've been feeling tired.