All through life I have always had strange recurring dreams, but of late some are just too pronounced and demanding it becomes difficult not to take notice. And over time I have written about such dreams, wanting to learn more about them. Now it is postulated by some learned sources that dreams could actually be realities in a different dimension.
One such reverie occurred last night and thus thought it right to commit to writing at the first opportunity. Some familiar hallmarks do for me instigate such dreams to occur and this particular night was one such occasion.
I was just about ready to call it a day, after I had been physically drained by the yardwork I completed a few hours earlier. And this coupled by the fact that the Internet was down due to maintenance work of the provider. So I was just about ready to bed before 9 pm, after a hard day's work.
The dream materialized even before the hour turned to midnight. It commenced this way.
For some unexplainable reason I still continue to work with the Westin St. Francis Hotel, though I had much earlier retired from it after 20 years of employment. I thus find myself still working alone doing the IT work I had done prior to retirement.
And because dreams never typically follow the proper time sequence in real life, this narration will be one such example, jumping in time every which way.
So first I find myself looking for the room where former President George W. Bush is billeted and as is wont in similar dreams in the past I have difficulty negotiating through corridors, elevators, function rooms, etc. looking for the suite that I thought he would be in. And like past dreams, I find myself unable to find the right room.
Then the dream brings me back earlier, when I am inside that huge and dark wood-paneled room with the former president and another white-haired person that later I would recognize as being part of hotel security. They were playing tennis inside that huge room, though at times it would turn to badminton. On one side of the court was a big tree located near the baseline. And so watching the game I placed myself beside the tree. But was told to step back because the tree was inside the court, which I did. Then a little later, the white-haired person tells me that he had a good 15-minute workout playing tennis and badminton in which I remarked that I would have had a hard time doing what he did.
Then I find myself anxious in bed covering myself with a crumpled white sheet, with the former president beside me in another bed, and he is trying to placate me, not to worry because my two bags will be given back to me in due time. In the dream, the 2 little bags are those I typically carried with me to work, with personal items in them, like my devotional books, my daily journal, and the usual clutter of pens and pencils, keys, etc. and at times extra clothing since at times after work I would change in the car and walked or jogged along the downtown area of San Francisco.
Anyway, he assures me that the bag will be returned, including some stuff that he would give me for my children. It is then when I realize that I could be in danger, leaving behind in his room what could possibly be used to hurt him. Maybe a bomb? So my mind started racing about what things I may have in those two bags. I recall that Bush was telling me that he liked one bag, which he described as a "tartanilla" bag and I said that old leather bag which looked a bit like a satchel was given by my father, which bag when he was still using it contained all documents of his case load. I then started to cry, though he gave assurance that nothing would happen to me.
At this juncture, I woke up staring at the darkness in the room, and my mind continued racing, this time about real things that happened to me.
I then thought about the time as a kid maybe of 8 or 9 when my father brought me with him to the town of Dansalan, in Lanao, where Muslims lived. Riding his jeep we traveled to the place which is some 130 kilometers going west from our place. He had brought along his "porfolio" a small leather bag that contained his legal documents, and I was tasked to carry it around for him. I do not recall any more companion with us, nor any conversation we may have had. But I recall that reaching the place, there was a small coterie of people waiting and watching. My father breaks through the crowd and enters the one-storey building where the legal case was supposed to be heard. I left him with his bag and got back to the jeep outside, while the people milling around were all sucked inside. Then nothing else.
Next my mind got into another occasion when I again rode the jeep of my father as his companion, this time there were other people and luggage with me. I was seated at the back on one side where a bare metal bench was. Nothing more than part of the frame of the jeep. Facing forward, I had my feet raised on the bench and had a good view of the outside. We were traversing graveled roads on some mountainous areas. A detail I find hard to forget was that the soil on the shoulders of the road was reddish in color like clay, which is quite different in color from the one we had in the lowland areas. I had thought then that we were travelling to places like Imbatug, or Talakag, or even Impalutao in Bukidnon.
Another memory that tried to crowd in was my extended trip with my maternal grandmother to the remote island of Culion, in Palawan.
This time I became pensive and reflective. From these experiences it would appear that the adults in our family had assigned for me a special task in their lives - as a travelling companion. And to bolster to that, I also recall instances in my childhood when I would also accompany my mother, doing things that seemed like a child had no proper part in it, like going to movies that had adult themes.
Reality beckons, so I stood up, flicked the light switch, and starting writing my memories.
