… is probably the best thing to have when you’re relaxing after a long walk in the unbearable Manila heat. Spent a solitary afternoon creeping around Greenhills looking for clothes and ended up buying nothing, which is somewhat good since I have extra money to spend on books this coming Tuesday on a much anticipated book hunt. Hopefully relatives will be good to me on my upcoming 21st birthday. It wasn’t that bad at all, spending time by yourself. I left no room for my overthinking tendencies: I bought a philosophy book and sheets of paper and I ended up taking down notes up until Hobbes, doodling and almost ended up sleeping in an almost too-crowded food court.
The idea of getting down and writing something serious kept buzzing in my head the whole afternoon and racked my brains for new ideas to revamp a possible story that’s existed in my head since high school. It’s nothing sort of a fantasy tale only modern life set in a world parallel to ours and it’s highly melodramatic. Inner debate on setting the tone and improving the characters—of course I want the whole of it to be serious and tragic but creative and witty with a rich use of language. Nothing too elaborate and still toying with the idea of a girleen’s journey to despair and ultimately destruction which prompts her to seek out and understand the redemption love can give. It’s a love story and it’s difficult to not make the plot and sequence appear like a cheap thrill.
Back home, I rested my weary feet and got down to changing the character’s names.
Life is good to me, I think. I survived with 7 days remaining before I’ve officially creeped around for 21 years. And I haven’t done anything.
Yesterday, Misha Collins was creeping in my head and a part of my spot in the realm of the Dreaming. The man’s good. (Edit: I added a picture of him, just because).
Remember: point of view shifts from first person to third person. The weather consisted of murky clouds and a deluge of tinselly rain with huge drops and I find myself just outside, in our garage with a roof, standing with M and some unidentified people (blurred faces). We stood there out in the dripping garage with the rain pooling on the pottery and the street that our garage overlooked. The rain began to smear on the gates and on the screens, creating translucent panes of water. M stood there, wearing a gray blazer and a black shirt inside, with his arms akimbo. He glances back at me and there it was again: straight nose, one-sided flashing grin and a clean cut chin and a strong jawline. It felt like swimming that time and it seemed like I was trying to not get carried away by the currents he was making.
My mom there in my dream and she was busy with my uncle and aunt and she told me she had to take them to the hospital and won’t be back for a few days. She took my brothers with her and asked me to keep watch of the house while they were away. I swear I saw M open the gates for my mom’s car and close it afterwards. Weirdly amusing.
We stood there for a while with our company (I see him talking to them but I never see their face). I don’t remember much afterwards but suddenly everything seems very funny and very ridiculous. We were laughing and M as playing with my hair. I remember hearing him say that he was bored and asked me to come inside the house with him so we can pass the time away from the rain. It’s amazing how you remember small details: a blazer being taken off, a polo button being opened to loosen the collar a bit, fun music in the background and a company of people and you hear their laughter but don’t know which laugh belongs to who.
M and I had a great deal of laughing suddenly and he was being silly again (making funny faces) and I feel full from it. We tried to dance, his arm around my neck, swinging me around and we skipped around the living room like drunks. I told him we needed a drink first so we headed off to the kitchen for drinks. There is a queer free feeling looking at the dream’s situation and the feeling that makes me feel like laughing forever stuck even if I’m already awake. We laughed and laughed until our knees gave away and I was sitting on the floor of the kitchen across from him, who also fell back on the floor and our knees touching. The lines deepened when he laughed and we both looked particularly flushed and bright-eyed and he just had to look back at me, with that small smile (he seemed satisfied
and looked terribly loving).
And I wake. Damn it. Damn it.