Tears.
I looked at my Grandma in the coffin for the first time. She was unusually pale - even in the realm of dead people, and what struck me about her was her smile. I kept looking and I started crying, thinking of all the memories I had with her.
She was always the one who cooked for us… and up until now, I don’t think anyone has ever topped her Nilaga and Kare-kare. She always brought sunshine in the room, and even when she was stuck in her bed for the last months of her life, she never failed to offer a smile.
Her smile in that coffin was different. Then she breathed. Then she adjusted her position in the coffin - and that completely threw me off guard. What was happening? She opened her eyes and talked to me.
I don’t remember being scared, and I don’t remember her saying anything. What I remember is feeling as though I was being beckoned to get closer to her, find out more, be with her in whatever world she was. I was about to lean in, I guess to hug her, when a couple of people held me back.
“It’s not real,” someone told me. “Don’t fall into this. Get back. Get back.” And I was struggling and crying and I guess it wasn’t just tears flowing, it was me wailing and sobbing. My sister was there, and I hugged her.
And I woke up. It was a dream. But my tears were real.
A Harry Potter dream:
Journal entry:
July 17, 2009
11:47 p.m.
He towered over everyone, with the Death Eaters at his back. They all wore black and that’s all I remember—except for Bellatrix’s evil smile. I knew he was Voldemort but why do I see Dumbledore as his form? And yet it was, for real, Voldemort. He was majestic in his blue and violet robe. And he carried a massive wand—almost like a giant syringe, with purple serum boiling inside it. I knew he was looking for me… he was going to shoot me.
But I hid behind someone’s back. I was so afraid he would see me. I knew I was supposed to help the others. I was the Chosen One. And I would have to fight this war. Shame. I was scared.
I pointed my wand at his and whispered, “Expelliarmus.” It did nothing… just a slight twitch in his wand. Could I be doing it wrong? Ron was the one who messed up with his wand all the time and not me. I tried again: “Expelliarmus”. It didn’t do anything.
That spell, I think, made Voldemort aware of my presence. Like he used it to track me. And then his eyes rolled directly to me. I had to run. And so I did. Coward.
Then I remember me speaking to them. I am a good speaker. And I knew I moved a lot of them in that speech. It was almost like a small congregation—but these people, all without faces, were supposed to fight with me. And then she stood, Mam Melchor. She exclaimed support for my speech. All of them were crying. All of them were ready for this war—all, except me.
Then I was at the corridor at Morse. I knew it was Morse. It had that gray, dull feeling to it. And then I saw them walking towards us. I knew we were walking, too. And I knew I was in the front. But I was so afraid. I wanted to run…
Then just as Voldemort was shooting at me with his massive wand, a boy stepped in front of me and claimed the spell for himself and died… And I heard my voice ring, “Noooooooo!!!”
And there was chaos.
Violence.
Disarray.
I couldn’t describe. Because I wasn’t there.
All of a sudden, I found myself in this small pet store. I was with Vanessa and Zac Efron. We were in line to pay something to the counter.
“Anong ginawa nila sakin?”
I asked Vanessa. For some reason, I expected her to understand and answer. But she gave me a confused face. I repeated my question, this time, in English.
“What did they do to me?”
And she understood and replied: “The producers didn’t like you. They killed you.”
And so I figured, the director decided to kill me in my last battle against Voldemort. But as I wake up at 8:04 in the morning when I need to be in school at 8:30, I will never forget how much of a coward I was, even in my sleep.
I was scared. I was Harry Potter.
From time to time,
My realities become better than my dreams. Genuine laughs, uninhibited presence, pure, sober, unadulterated fun. I guess that’s the value of finding the right people. When you’re with them, you have the power to look back and smile. You have the power to indulge in the goodness of reality. To take a break from all the dreaming and hoping and wishful thinking. To let loose, let the desires flow, let the future hold itself for a moment. To forget that time is ticking, and that life is unsure, that the peak is high, and the gap is wide.
From time to time, my realities become better than my dreams. And those moments are enough.
My dreams intimidate me.
Every time I think about what I wanna do with my life and the things I want to be, I get so scared. Sometimes I wish my mind was just more plain and simple so I won’t have to conjure these images of myself in the future… of what I’ll do, what I’ll accomplish, who I’ll become.
I have this vision of who I want and aim to be. The image is immensely vivid, almost like I’m gazing at the mirror, only with the “adjustments” that I would have made with myself in the years of learning and experience. And it resonates through me, screaming, wanting to turn into reality.
You’ll be established. Not having any form of insecurity at all. Influential. Capable. Familiarized. Genuinely inspiring. And every time I hear it, I can only reply with a sigh because I can’t instantly say, “Sure. I’ll get there. I’ll be who you are.” Because in reality, despite knowing the destination, I can’t see the path. I see the peak of a mountain, but I have not the slightest inkling how to reach it. I know it’s a long way up, but I sure as hell do not know the way itself.
Sometimes I really wish that my mind was plain and simple. That way, it won’t be a constant ground for the battles I’m fighting. Then I remember that it was with this exact mind that I got this far. So for now, I’ll just have to keep looking at the mountain peak and bear the butterflies that torment my insides.
Steps.
This bareness is probably just what I needed. Stripped off of the spark, the ear-to-ears and the loving words, I feel as if I am in this calm plain where I am forced to deal with my thoughts, my realities and real aspirations.
In fact, I got so overwhelmed by them that I decided to walk. Where do I go? Make a round At Cleveen’s street, or Josiah’s or my auntie’s? I went down to Gilmartin, as if trying to avert all sense of knowing. And as gravity pulled me down, I found my steps getting faster, gaining momentum, so much that I didn’t have to put an effort. The milliseconds when both my feet were in the air were those of abandon, fastened, but abandon, nevertheless.
I always like it when I hear my heart beating. It’s like it’s screaming out for me to acknowledge its presence. And last night, I needed that. Where does my heart truly lie? Will it lead me to the stars? In a place I’ve never known or imagined myself to be in before? There’s this burning desire to be among the planets and see earth from the view there. How would it feel if the rest of the world looked like screaming ants? I’m not so sure, but the heart says go for it. Jump up the highest you’ve ever jumped. Climb, let the spirit take over when the flesh becomes unwilling. And yet, the intellect reasons and issues the final verdict: You have no looks. You barely have talent. And there’s already a clear, rational path in front of you.
After all those steps, I found myself in the familiar setting once again as I headed home. The desire still burns. And the reality still rings true.
