Tag Archives | dreams
March 4, 2012

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Tall Tales

The Shadow of a Giant

I ducked into what seemed like a tent to escape the storm. I was drenched, hungry, and most of all exhausted. I don’t remember much as I soon fell into a deep sleep, but I do recall my tent turning and enveloping me, muting the howling of the angry wind. I didn’t know then what I would soon find out: I was sheltered in the shadow of a giant.

October 9, 2011

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Thoughts of a Lost Boy

Hopes and Dreams

Dreams…
Visions greeting the night
Restless souls taking to flight

I find…
I’m in an endless sky
Feeling my bounds untie
Making my way
To someday

With you…

Hopes…
Wishes that do come true
Moments about to breakthrough

I know…
With every sad goodbye
Each day that passes by
I’m closing in
To begin

With you…

July 25, 2011

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naturalhealth.ph

Choose Well

Sunday mornings are probably the most peaceful few hours of my week. I usually wake-up between 5:30 – 6:00 am every day except Sundays, when I indulge a little more for another hour before going to church at 8:00 am. Today, maybe because of the overcast sky, I ended up I sleeping much longer to enjoy one of my more restful evenings this year. Resting, getting more sleep, learning how to relax, are a few of the many many many things I need to improve on if I don’t want to become the youngest lolo (grandfather) around, which some friends will argue I already am. Of course I can choose to become a 27-year-old lolo by keeping crazy work hours, having too many involvements, and staying a grouchy ogre. This can mean more achievements at a young age and maybe more money (which, from experience, isn’t always the case), but this can also mean a lot of white hair and perpetual weight loss. Now if I choose to change this I may or may not be healthier, I may or may not be more accomplished, and I may or may not like the changes. The point is, I can choose the way I live my life, and depending on my choices, I can either be a healthier person, a harder worker, more relaxed, or more stiff, I can be someone who contributes to the lives of others, or a leech, have more, or have less, or whatever. We don’t have to be victims to our current situations, we have a choice.

Many of us want to be healthy but don’t want to make the daily choices necessary to achieve real health. We don’t want to be fat but we don’t want to choose to eat properly. We don’t want to feel lethargic but we choose to sleep late. We want so many things but don’t want to choose the way to get them. This is a sure way to never achieve our goals and our dreams.

My encouragement for us this week is to choose well. May your daily actions and decisions bring you closer to a more fulfilled, healthier, and happier you!

Read more at Naturalhealth.ph

November 9, 2010

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Thoughts of a Lost Boy

I Have A Dream

Watching rain drops
Watching headlights
Coalesce into the features
Of your face

Hearing the wind hum
Hearing the city jungle
All sound like the whispering
Of your name

I have a dream…
And it looks like a farm with olive trees

I have a dream
And it looks like a boat sailing open sees

Watching rain drops
Watching headlights
Rise from the features
Of your face

Hearing the wind hum
Hearing the city jungle
Reminding me
You’re far away

October 26, 2010

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Thoughts of a Lost Boy

Disappearing Dream

Waking
A mirage
Disappears

October 26, 2010

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Thoughts of a Lost Boy

Reminding Myself

My Father, my strength
I’m helpless and weak

My savior, redeemer
I’m stuck again

My faith, my hope
I’m full of doubt

My promise, my portion
I have nothing left

But there is no dream that’s too great for you,
No emptiness too deep

There is no struggle you can’t win,
No enemy you can’t defeat

And there is no storm you can’t calm,
No evening too dark for your light

October 21, 2010

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Thoughts of a Lost Boy

Not Alone

Not alone in my memories
They’re so full of you
Of a walk on a grassy hill
Of that day when time stood still

Not alone in my dreams
They’re wishing for you
For a time of better days
For a simpler, safer place

July 18, 2010

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Thoughts of a Lost Boy

Can’t You See?

I
I found my hopes and my dreams
In your eyes

I
I found a treasure
Trapped in disguise

There is no time
There is no place
I’d rather be,
Than right now
Right here
With you

Maybe it’s a heart that was once broken
Maybe it’s a promise not kept
Maybe it’s a hope you lost forever
Maybe it’s your fear of what’s ahead
Maybe a million things
But can’t you see
They brought you here to me

I
I had every reason
Not to try

But I
I knew that love would be strong
And defy

Because there is no heart
There is no face
I’d rather hold,
Than yours
In my hands
Tonight

Maybe it’s a dream you wish you’d woken
But didn’t and now regret
Maybe it’s a step you should have taken
Maybe it’s a shame you can’t forget
Maybe a million things
But can’t you see
They brought you here to me

Can’t you see what I see?
We were meant to be

November 22, 2009

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Thoughts of a Lost Boy

Stargazing

Sun is setting
Darkness comes
We patiently lie and wait

A blanket beneath us
And soon above us
A vast blanket of stars

And if the day must end
To see the their light
Let night come

So clear and bright
They burn for us
Gone before we see them

Let tonight remind you
So you won’t forget
This you should know

That if a star must die
To make your dreams come true
Let mine fall

March 29, 2008

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Thoughts of a Lost Boy

Stations & Trains

Sometimes, no, many times, I like to escape into my own mind, into the magic of my imagination. Here I dream of stories, some of people around me, some of me, some of characters completely made up. Many things trigger it, nothing in particular, but many things can take me from the traffic of Manila to Pencey Prep. I try to write them sometimes. Most of the time they file themselves in my hippocampus. I think that’s where it is.

Here’s one inspired by all the trains I’ve been taking.

Stations and Trains
I thought she was his daughter. She was just short. Really short. But when he leaned over to kiss her, she on her tiptoes, there was no mistaking they were lovers. I looked around me, and it seemed my eyes only saw the goodbyes. Fathers waving away, flying kisses from a wife, handshakes with partners, tight embraces, and the audible I love yous and thank yous, we’re all saying goodbye in our own way. Maybe because, in our own way, we’re all leaving. Leaving yesterday, leaving our youth, leaving people, leaving anything – leaving everything. We’re leaving pieces of ourselves behind, little pieces, until ultimately, we leave it all.

Soon, just like me, after all the goodbyes, they will board trains to who knows where. They will sit in chairs, first class, second class, it doesn’t really matter. It’s not so much the seat that matters. It’s the train that counts. For those who’ve left someone behind, they will stare out the window, at the fields and trees, at the sky, and on night trains, the stars. In everything they will see the faces, the faces of those already missed. I look out the window, and see fields, trees, and sky.

The man sitting across the aisle is looking out on his side. The side of his forehead is leaning on the glass and his chin rests on his fingers. I wonder what he sees. I wonder who she is. I look out my window again. I see graffiti. It’s mostly either one of the following: someone’s angry, someone’s insecure, someone’s irresponsible, someone needs to shout something he can’t tell people, and also very common, another someone’s ill-fated attempt at romance. One of them keeps spraying “PUBIS”. I doubt he or she knows what it means. If I were him, I’d pick another name. Something not so nether regionish.

Through the cracks of the seats in front of me I can see an old couple. They’re sitting on chairs facing the other way. I know they’re old because they look old. White hair, wrinkles in the right places, and an aura of contentment only people with pure hearts have. Logically I’d say their best years have passed them. Seems someone forgot to tell them. They’re both pointing at things outside the window, pointing to things they want the other to see. Very sweet. I try to look behind me, to where they seem to be pointing. I don’t see anything, nothing other than fields, trees, and sky. Maybe they’re imagining things. Maybe their senile. Maybe I missed it. Maybe I’m blind.

I close my eyes, to begin what was my childhood’s favourite pastime. I close my eyes to dream. In my dream I’m in a train, first class, headed towards the sun. In my dream I look out the window, and I see it. In the light of the sun I see it. With my nose and finger tips greasing the glass, I stare. I do not even blink.

March 15, 2008

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Tall Tales

Moonlit Escape

They’re dancing again. The waves I mean. They’re dancing to the hum of the wind, to the pull of the moon, they’re dancing for me. Every night I come here, to this cove, to try to piece my life back, to remind myself of the reasons, my reasons for living. But instead I lose myself to the night, drawn to the stars, and splashes, and rustling, the soft sand, and the whispers inviting me to close my eyes, stretch my arms, and wait for flying nomads to take me. And I can hear them coming. I can hear the breathing and flapping of their winged horses, and in my head I can see them parting the clouds leaving a trail of rainbow.

Then it ends. The winds die down, the water settles, and once again I remember that I am alone. I can hear their voices from afar, the voices of people who mean everything to me. It is funny how we can be completely surrounded yet absolutely alone at the same time. One of the million things I don’t understand.

Like every night since the first that I started coming here, I start walking back to the cream colored walls of my house. I’ve lived there for quite a while now, but it’s no longer my home. It stopped being one when living gave way to mere existence. Now, it feels like a prison, suffocating and restless. Once, I wanted a red door, but he wouldn’t let me. He said that it didn’t match. He was right. What kind of prison has a red door? But in my dreams the doors are red and the walls are pink – salmon pink, the gardens are full of all kinds of flowers, and grass, and trees, and roots, and vines, and tentacles spewing the sweetest smelling fragrance. In my dreams there are spots where the sun always shines, places where the rain and the night respect the beauty of light. Here I float to sunbathe uninterrupted. And when I want the rain, right beside the sunny valleys are pockets of clouds pouring drops continuously, not too cold and not warm, just perfect. I can even grab the silver rope that hangs from under and drag a rain cloud with me as I run across fields. In my dreams I live.

-

I drink in the morning sun as I lie on the soft grass. I never made it to the house. The ground was just too enticing. I watch a familiar story play out in my head. It’s the tale of a girl, a girl much younger than me, less sophisticated, but much happier. Vicariously, I live through her. Sometimes it feels wrong, but I really don’t know why. I think because it’s all so vividly perfect – too perfect. I wish I had someone to tell me how silly I’m being, to remind me not to chase fantasies. Of course it could also be the lover in my head that condemns me, the one who is supposed to find me, take me away, and take me. But technically he’s not my lover, he belongs to her, the girl in my dreams, and they live perfectly in their Eden.

Today she poses for him as he paints her. She playfully bares her shoulder and teases him. She likes to do that. She likes to tempt her virtuous friend. He frowns but his lips betray a smile. He is hers.

-

The sound of my name being called interrupts my daydream. I’ve been gone too long. He’s looking for me. I wish it was his voice that was calling my name. I would run to him anytime. There are people who enter our lives, and even when they’ve exited, are never really gone. They leave an impression so big, so significant, their memory outlives their presence. They become giants in our lives – the ones we love and look up to, and leave ghosts to haunt us. He is a giant. He is my giant. His ghost haunts me but I find I am not afraid. Yet there he stays, in my dreams, in a place only real to me, and again I am reminded he belongs to her.