Skip to main content

Dream: Interspecies, cougar thing

I dreamed that I was being pursued by two male human-looking creatures with charcoal angel wings. They were younger than me, maybe in their mid-twenties. They couldn't enter the two-story house I was living in without an invitation, and I'd see their faces peering into windows or their arms reaching through cracks in whatever room I was in. Sometimes, I'd see only their shadows.

They freaked everyone out, but for me they weren't as frightening as they were bothersome, especially when I needed privacy. I couldn't sleep when I could see a face watching me from my window, even in the dark.

One day, fed up, I ignored the warnings of people and stepped out to try to talk to one of them. I wasn't all that brave, so I stood in the doorway, leaving the door half open. "What do you want?" I called out to the dark-haired one. He was older than the other one and had a face I'd never seen before.

He descended, and as he did his wings disappeared and he formed legs. "I just want to get to know you better," he said.

"So what do you want from me?"

"Let's hang out."

"Okay."

The other creature approached us, his wings disappearing and legs appearing as well. He had a familiar, friendlier face. "I want to hang out, too," he said. "But not with him around!" He pointed at the other creature, who replied with a scowl.

"Hey, don't fight," I said (and my dreaming self giggled).

So I hung out with them both, liking the dark-haired one for his brooding personality and liking the friendly one more for his humor and candor. I still didn't let them in the house, but I talked them out of looking into windows and taught them to just wait for me outside.

One day, I was talking to the friendly one. I found myself leaning against him, laughing over a joke he'd said. I stood up to walk to my house.
He stayed seated, smiling.

"Did you want to come inside?" I asked, fully aware of all the risks.

He was still seated as I walked away, the invitation still open. As I woke up, I was thinking, "Can I really do this interspecies cougar thing?"

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The work for which all other work is but preparation

I've been thinking, off and on, of something I once read: The purpose of marriage is not happiness but holiness. Never having been a "good" Christian despite my many attempts, I couldn't understand this line of thinking. Having been raised Catholic, I understood "holiness" to have as one of its main ingredients suffering — and why even want to get married if to be successful at it means to suffer? But these words never left me, bobbing up every now and then from the flotsam and jetsam of my brain. Until, one day, it dawned on me what the statement meant for me. On that same day, I also realized that I do want the gift of marriage. In fact, that is my Christmas wish this year.  My view is not a biblical view, but I don't think it strays too far from it. To be holy is to be set apart from others, as God is, in his perfect goodness and righteousness, in his perfect love (yes, this is biblical; yes, I know I said I wasn't looking at it biblically).  The

Visita Iglesia

My mom and I went with my sister, her family, and the in-laws to their Visita Iglesia for the Holy Week. I'd never done this before, but I had such an interesting time, and I think I'd like to do this again next year. We didn't do the Stations of the Cross, though. We just prayed and lit candles. A lot of candles. Here's a list of the churches we visited. Recto The University Belt churches, all of which are within walking distance to each other. The path to all those churches were lined with vendors hawking all sorts of things, from food, like calamares (I'd never seen calamares being sold as street food before! Lucky U-Belt kids!), all-sorts-of-balls-and-the-like (chicken, squid, fish, kikiam , and kwek-kwek ), to bottled water and flavored beverages, to candles and religious paraphernalia. 1. The San Beda Church , which I loved for the gilt of gold on the statues and the ceiling, and because once a Bedan, always a Bedan, though I didn't go to San Beda

Dream: Disaster

Last night's dream. This is a long one. I was in a management class that suddenly became a cooking class. The teacher whipped up this Italian dish with pasta, meat and some mushrooms and vegetables. "Would anyone like to have this?" she asked us. Nobody replied. A bit miffed, she handed it to the student in front of her: me. The dish looked delicious, actually, so I stood up and went around the classroom to get everyone to try it. Some of my classmates feigned interest, and some didn't bother to hide their annoyance, but most got some of the food. The plate was soon empty, even for me, so I went back to my seat. The teacher, who'd been watching me serve her dish, asked, "Why do you have blood on the seat of your pants? Do you have your period?" Surprised, and suddenly anxious, I whispered, "I just finished my, um, girly thing, ma'am, but I'll go check. I might have just sat on something that looks like blood." I saw what looked like blo