Thursday, September 11, 2008

i died

In a dream, I stand at the end of a long hall whose sides are lined with huge glass windows that let in the early afternoon sun. There are two rows of sewing machines. Humped over them are workers busily running cloths under their crude machines' rhythmically stabbing needles. I am wearing a dark suit without a tie and I watch them with apathy.

I see three bullets suddenly zoom from nowhere and hit me. I feel the bullets rend my clothes and lodge themselves into my flesh. They are neither hot nor painful, just icy. The speed with which this happens is almost cinematic. Like worms seeking comfort from some imagined persecution, the three bullets slowly inch their slimy bodies into my muscles. I feel every tissue tear and every ligament snap loose.

I fall on the concrete floor face first, dead. I know I am dead because my heart has stopped beating and my body has turned limp. I can feel my blood freeze inside my veins. I lay there for a while until my left forefinger starts twitching. A woman notices me, approaches me, and feels my pulse. “He's still breathing,” she shouts. There is a flurry of rustling skirts and slippers scraping against the polished floor as the workers rise from their boring task to attend to me. The scene slowly fades into darkness.

I limp out of the heavy sliding door of my deceased grandmother's ancient, crumbling house. I am supported on either side by two friends whose faces I don't recognize. They are in a mad rush to get me to the hospital. They are bawling commands left and right, urging everyone to make haste but I don't see anyone except the three of us.

I remain calm and disinterested, still not feeling the pain of the bullet wounds. We reach the garage and one of them opens the gate, which creaks at it swings. A 1940s cab pulls up. One of them says something about the car being too small for us. They bawl orders again but I don't understand them. We nevertheless get inside the car and cramp ourselves at the backseat like Jews on their way to a concentration camp. I feel tired. Just tired.

I remember seeing the road through the cab's windshield. The sun, somewhat milder now, lightly bathes the asphalted road with yellow light. It jars my vision.

And then I wake up.



At 12:03 PM, Blogger R-yo said...

hmm. you just have this very vivid recollection of things. and dreaming of dying? wow! how i wish i could read dreams so i could tell what this means.

At 12:47 PM, Blogger David B Katague said...

Psychologists say that if you die in your dream new things in the future will happen and change your life for good. Cheers and Have a good day!

At 10:23 PM, Blogger gulnaz said...

boy is it vivid! each colour, each sound...every thing etched out so vibrantly!

i agree with david... dying is a way of closure to the past and that's a good thing you know.

hope you had a great day, enjoy your weeekend!

At 1:07 AM, Blogger joyfulchicken said...

"I know I am dead because my heart has stopped beating and my body has turned limp. I can feel my blood freeze inside my veins."

I read that as "I can feel my blood freeze inside my penis" and got very confused. What's wrong with me?

At 12:56 PM, Blogger Bryan Anthony the First said...

ibig sabihin e dapat mag novena bago matulog


At 1:37 PM, Anonymous jeff reiji said...

ang tagal mong nawala sa circulation... welcome back!

At 4:30 PM, Anonymous bing said...

i had dreams of dying, too... but cannot recall them exactly.

some others say that usually dreams are the opposite of what is happening or will happen to you. i don't know if it's true.

glad to be reading you again...

At 6:51 PM, Blogger Analiza F. Villarin said...

chris, there may be changes or transformation, self-discovery and positive development that are happening within you or in your life, thus you dreamed of dying. what a beautiful dream!

At 2:38 PM, Anonymous Rey said...

i like visions of dreams... especially if they're revealed in narrative. It gives you a glimpse of a world that is not governed by any laws of nature or men. A world that is boundless but so limited by fear.

At 5:45 PM, Blogger ie said...

Waking up after dying is too metaphorical, too poetic to be ignored. It must signify something dramatically important, right?

And oh. I want to say other things too. But later.

At 5:53 PM, Blogger Jay said...

Next time, dream of ponies.

At 7:56 PM, Blogger slim whale said...

r yo-- i know. i seem to have very vivid dreams lately. there's another one but it's too personal to post here, hehe

david katague -- i hope so. that is a good thought.

gulnaz -- this not always the case. some dreams are so hazy and vague. i only write about those that I can remember clearly

joyfulchicken -- well, i felt that, too. hehe

Bryan anthony -- nag no-novena ako bago matulog! nag aalay pa nga ako ng patay na kambing sa altar ni Helga bago matulog eh.

jeff reiji -- thanks. hope I can upate regularly

bing -- yup. that's what they say. some epople say dreams are just images from the unconscious, surfacing.

anna -- then i'd love to death dreams every night, if that's the case!

rey -- and anything is possible there. love it, too. i just hate scary nnightmares.

ie -- oh yeah, i didn't notice that. perceptive.

jay -- ...or goats!

At 8:09 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

i believe you when you say this is just a dream. you're still saying crazy shit after all.

At 12:37 AM, Anonymous palma tayona said...

i like dreaming. in it, i create a different reality. i wade through them. i revel in it.

and when it's done after i open my eyes, i reach for a pencil or pen and i draw them.

dreams give a different way of understanding this so-called life.

At 1:51 AM, Anonymous FONT LOVER said...



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