Crazy Dreams

I was checking earlier the oldest surviving writings I had from highschool earlier. The only reason why I still have them is that when I first got my net back in 1998, I suddenly felt the need to transfer them from decomposing notebooks, intermediate papers and other assortments of badly archived paper (like back of test papers) to digital format and upload them online for preservation. Some of them date back to 1997 and I'm glad I got to snapshot some of my works from my childhood.

A couple of documents detail a rather strange story about a series of dreams I seemed to have been having sometime time during 4th year HS (as footnoted). I've forgotten about these and realized I was one crazy bastard back then to have dreams like these. The way it was written is obviously romanticized already since no dream can be so narratively convenient, but from the footnotes, I was quickly able to tell that most of it is actually indeed part of my dream.

Here are a couple of excerpts from the dream sequences:

I was about to cross the last street towards my parking when I heard three loud shots. I was too drunk to be startled, but soon I felt something very warm oozing out of my left leg and right chest. I suddenly lost all my strength, I was wobbly but it didn’t feel like a hangover, the feeling was something else. I stared at my hands. They were tainted by warm oozing blood. I tried to walk a few more steps and I finally blacked out and collapsed near a broken down stoplight with its orange light blinking on and off above me.

It’s funny cause though I know that I was in a mental comma, I could sense all stimuli that bombarded my body. I heard ambulance sirens, then shouts of people as if they were curing me. Then silence. The last thing I heard was a flat-liner sound made by my electrocardiogram. Suddenly, I felt my skin peeling off my body, then my flesh, then my bones. What was supposed to be an excruciating pain was now an indescribable predicament that I was experiencing.

Was I dead? Or was it just a drunkard’s illusion? I could now see my body in a bird’s eye view. I tried to shout for help, but it was as if my voice was being drowned in an endless sea of silence. Tears came rolling down my cheeks, as I was sober once more, only to realize my fate. I was dead and I couldn’t do anything about it. As I could see from what the guys from the hospital were doing, I died from bullet wounds, one of them hit my right lung and my right leg. The next events came as if time was no longer a constant. I suddenly found myself in a parched flat desert with no existence in sight for miles and miles. The sky was red and there was no wind. I was inside a black cage with weird, gothic-like engravings. I once more shouted for help, but to no avail…

I just couldn’t make any sound despite how hard I tried. I tried digging my way out of the confinement but my fingers couldn’t even touch the soil I was trying to dig, as though some invisible lamination separated me form reality. I fell to my knees. And looked upward, the roof of the cage had disappeared when I was not looking. And out from the sky descended a six-winged figure resembling angels of old times. Of course I never really saw one in my “lifetime” but I had particular interests on angels and other stuff of myth so I know their most basic of descriptions. Okay. So, he had cloth coverings all over him, including his face, it was wrapped like that of an Arabian Bedouin, as it walks in a desert. He then picked me up the way a groom would pick up his bride, the way a father would carry a sick child. Time accelerated once again as the ground started shrinking beneath us rapidly. Right then and there, my emotions were already in fray. I didn’t know what to feel next.

Then I felt as if, all of my perceptions were being distorted, I could see the angel, but nothing else. The entire scenery was empty, devoid of anything, sight, sound, and all. Even the wind did not feel like anything though my clothes were flapping like crazy. I knew by that movement that we were travelling very fast. But to nowhere. The blood in my entire body has disappeared, no pain ever bothered me since I was shot. So this was what being a soul means. I guess life is just like that, one snap and its all game over for me. I looked at the face of my winged companion. It seems that I lacked the enthusiasm to be surprised by that fact that there was no face to behold. Only a vacuum bound by the clothing wrapped around it...

Now that is what I would like to call fucked up. If I could approach my younger self right now, I would have given him a good bitchslapping for dreaming of such stupid things. And dont even go on saying these things have meanings, because I might just walk into that room of yours too right now just to bitchslap you out of that nonesense.

Still I find the idea rather... nostalgic.