Dreaming Death

22 February 2007


I Could Have Died Last Night. Twice. 

I took on the persona of a young boy in my first dream last
night. Or at least the first dream that I was aware of. A male adult, I don’t
know who, was behind me, guiding me as we flew—or fell—from a high place, most
probably a tall building. I was delighted at the sights all around me and was
even adjusting my goggles while hanging on to something, could be the adult’s
hand or arms, so as not to fall (which was weird because we were already
falling). My excitement at the feeling of flight quickly turned to panic when I
realized that we did not have a parachute and we were on our way down. Head
first. Fast. Just before I hit the ground, there was total darkness for a few
seconds. There was a part of me that was struggling to wake myself up. I finally
woke up to total darkness. I was lying on my stomach, facedown on my pillow. My
heart was beating fast and I was catching my breath.

Visions of relatives finding my dead body in the morning made
me afraid to fall asleep again. I lay awake for a long time, fighting off
sleep. I had had similar dreams in the past where it would feel like I was
about to die of something but this seems to be the first time wherein I was
anyone other than myself. I was a young boy of about 8 or 9. I had also woken
up several times before, having to catch my breath. I think I might have
stopped breathing for a few seconds.

Eventually, I fell asleep again. In the last dream that I
had before I woke up in the morning, I was living away from home in a small
house that I was sharing with a number of other people, families even. The
living condition did not feel very ideal although I cannot think of a specific
reason now. There was a feeling of mild chaos, maybe because of the many people
in the same house. An older woman visited me and was asking about my condition,
clearly concerned. I don’t think I know the woman in real life. In the dream,
she did not seem to be a relative although someone familiar to the family. She seemed
to be from the same “community” from where I came from. I cannot explain what I
meant by that, except that she might have been a close neighbor or a family
friend. We were in the living room. She was convincing me of how much better I
would feel if I did go back home. She was asking me why I didn’t just go back
where life was more comfortable. She mentioned how “there are no squatters back
home.” I don’t know what exactly that had to do with anything. In the dream, I
had to think whether I was back in China
but it was clearly somewhere in Manila.
Finally I asked her, “Kamusta si Amah? (How is Amah?),” suddenly feeling such a
deep longing for my Amah. She shrugged and answered, “Ayun, buhay siya. (She’s
alive.)” I then felt like going home just to be able to be with Amah again.
Then I woke up, still filled with longing and sadness, and realized that Amah
had been dead for 17 years.

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