A Dead Dream

Have you ever been in love? I have never been in love. I’ve been into relationships but never felt the need to spend my whole life with someone. I’ve had my share of break-ups and tears but I never had my heart broken. Today, I woke up alone, as always. As I was sitting quietly with my breakfast in front of me, I mourned over a lost love. I mourned about a man I have never met in this life. Memories of events that never happened surged into my mind and it felt real.

In those memories, I was in love. I was in love with a man who is also very much in love with me. We spent a very short time together and we had to part. I pictured him standing in front of me. We’re about to part ways and would never see each other again. We said goodbye and I cried. It was hopeless. I thought, “What kind of barrier could ever stand in the way of love?” If one of us is leaving, the other one can go with him/her. It makes no sense to lose a love over something so small. But in those memories, there was nothing I can do. Like a movie, there was nothing I can do, I can just sit through it and watch. It was just that. I watched the love I finally found, my first love, go away. The thought that I would never see him again killed me.

What is it with this man and how did he capture my wild heart? He was not a skilled hunter. He was the man who connected to my other side or what I call “my soft side”, the real me. He tamed my soul and took my heart. I’m two people at once but most could only see one. Just like twins in a very complicated birth where the other one has to die in order for the other one to live. Naturally, the strongest one, the one more capable of surviving this world was chosen. The dead twin refuses to be forgotten. Time and time again, her presence is felt. When I decided to kill her, she understood. She did not judge me. She did not get mad. She simply understood. As I write this, I cry as if I just had an abortion. A few moments ago, I was mourning about a lost significant other and now, it seems I am mourning about a lost twin and a lost child. None of the people I cry about even exists.

You see, I’m a dreamer. I fit into the common description of a writer, an artist, and an old soul. When I was a kid, I liked to draw. I wrote poems and turned plenty of my notebooks into comic books. I liked to sing, too, and I also used to dance. When I was young, aside from having several ambitions such as being an astronaut and going to space, being a pilot and cruising through the skies, and being an architect and designing and building beautiful cities, my greatest dream was to have a sketchbook. I used to call it “a notebook with no lines on it”. All I wanted was a notebook with no lines on it! Now I can buy as many sketchbooks as I want but I never did.

I’m afraid. Even when I hoarded notebooks, I always hesitated to write on them. I’m afraid to make a mistake, to ruin something so clean and perfect. I’m also afraid that the notebooks hated me. High school was the end of my creativity. High school was the time I burned all the comic books I made. It was the time my peers have accepted my talent and my family did not. I used to have my classmates borrow the comic “notebooks” I made and read my stories. I used to have people ask me, “What’s gonna happen next?” Now, I don’t even remember what the stories I wrote a decade (or more) ago were about. I burned it all. I thought to myself, “I could write it all over again. I will draw again.” Then I asked myself, “What’s gonna happen next?”

Years later, it never happened. The surviving twin successfully earns a great amount of money in her career. She killed everyone with her technical skills. She was able to afford renting a new place for herself. She severed ties with an abusive family. She lived alone peacefully. Sometimes I think what it was all for and I always get the answer, “So that we can do whatever we want, what we always wanted to do.” Then I ask myself again, “What do we always wanted to do?” And my mind goes back to the dreams I had decades ago. My first love. I want to make comic books again. I want to write stories again. Like a haunting memory, the dead twin wants to come back to life. Maybe she has never died at all, she just stood in the background as the stronger and more practical twin takes on the world to build a cradle just for the two of them. A safe haven where none of them could be harmed. A world where both of them can live and survive.

Maybe I was mourning not over a man, a sibling, or a child. But I was weeping about a lost love, indeed. And whenever I feel a barrier, maybe I should picture myself parting ways with a lost love and thinking “What kind of barrier could ever stand in the way of love?”

A Dead Dream


The following words would not make sense and it shouldn’t because it’s a dream. But if you turn off your “normal” thinking mode, maybe it would. I want you to abandon your definition of “singularity” before you read my story because my own definition of it has been overridden by a dream. My brain, so thirsty for facts and evidence, unleashed its poetic side and provided me with concepts from my subconscious. I woke up with a new perspective and hope.

I had a dream of singularity hitting us. Yes, hitting us. I had a dream that I was waiting for it. It looked like a horizontal aurora. I was with a few people and quickly hid behind a post when I saw the colors approach. In my head, it’s supposed to crush the infrastructures including me and everyone else around me. In my head, the Earth would be destroyed. I closed my eyes as it inevitably hit everyone and everything. Surprised that I’m still alive after it left, I opened my eyes. Everyone else opened their eyes and wondered as if they just woke up from a dream. Something has changed, I felt it. Everyone was intelligent. Everyone was wise. It’s as if singularity or how my dream interpreted it to be was really a storm of wisdom and knowledge. It’s as if it wiped out all our biases, stupidity, and corruption. It cleansed the world and left us a better civilization – much more fit for the future.

After waking up, I thought about it for a while. I remember telling someone that if there was a button that could destroy the world and I’m standing right in front of it, I would never hesitate to push it. I would never think twice. I would never look back and daydream about the memories I had with people I loved. I would never think about the people in it. It’s not because I’m evil or I don’t care. It’s because it doesn’t matter. I remember that someone telling me that I’m cruel. Maybe I am but I’m not doing it because I hate people or I hate this planet or I have no hope left for humanity. It’s simply because it doesn’t matter.

If all humans were wiped off the planet, it wouldn’t matter. I imagine a vast universe – dark and almost empty. This tiny little thing wouldn’t count at all. What excites me is our possible ability to outlive this planet or this universe. I’m a software engineer crawling my way into data science, big data, and all the information and analysis that comes with it. Maybe I’m not necessarily a scientist but I see existence as an exciting puzzle that the majority wouldn’t live long enough to solve. I look forward to the day that everything we know wouldn’t be wiped out clean by extinction. I look forward to the day that if my human body dies, my thoughts can be preserved and that I can see the far off future.

This dream gave me a different interpretation of my supposedly cruel thoughts.


Turn Back Time, Into The Darkness

A few days ago, I had another dream of dreams within dreams. I had a dream about a mad physician, of me facing a wall, an old man showering in front of a mirror, the clock running backwards, and everything turning dark.

In the first dream, we were having our annual physical exam and I was standing in a line with other colleagues when I overheard the physician angrily giving a sermon to the person he was checking. It didn’t make any sense but I thought, “Good thing I had an appointment with the dentist before this.” And then I woke up.

In the second dream, I woke up from the long line for the physical exam and found myself driving a car. I drove the car into what seems to be an industrial warehouse and parked between a big truck and a wall. To my left is the truck, to my right is the wall, and to the front is another wall. I got out of the car and observed the wall in front of me. And then I woke up.

In the third dream, I woke up from observing a wall in front of me. Now, I am watching an old man shower in front of a mirror. He has the typical Santa-like body. Big belly, the top of his head is balding but he has a few graying and white hairs in the sides, and he has a beard with the same color combination as his hair. He was shampooing his hair from the sides to the top. But there is no water, no shampoo, not even a shower head. He stopped for a while and walked backwards to the right of my view and up to the stairs. As he passed, I heard a clock ticking. I saw a wall clock that looks like some lucky cat Chinese decoration. Its hands were moving backwards. And it made sense to me that time that “Oh, so that’s why he’s moving backwards.” And then I woke up.

In the fourth dream, I woke up from seeing the cat-like clock, of time moving backwards. This time I found myself lying on the sofa where I really fell asleep on that time. I stood up, as if waking up, and turned the lights on. The lights didn’t turn on and when I looked around, all the rooms were dark. I walked towards the balcony to see the other buildings and found residential buildings that weren’t there before. The doors and windows were dark when it was still a pretty bright afternoon. I’m guessing the bright orange sky you get just before sunset. And then I woke up.

In the fifth dream, I found myself lying on the sofa again. I grabbed my phone and I actually felt I was holding it. Thinking that I was awake, I looked at my phone and it wasn’t there. I was holding something rectangular that wasn’t there.

In the sixth dream, I found myself lying on the sofa again. This time, I am very unsure if I had really woken up. I’m very aware that I’m dreaming but I couldn’t wake up. I was in another sleep paralysis. I clenched my fists and did everything I can to wake up. When I finally did, it took me a while to believe that I wasn’t dreaming anymore. I put on clothes and went outside.

I like to think that this is my subconscious telling me something but I am more likely to believe that these dreams are combinations of things I’ve seen before. I try not to make much sense about it but wouldn’t it be cool if it did mean something?

Turn Back Time, Into The Darkness

Trapped in a fish bowl

I looked outside from the office where I spend most of the week from the afternoon until dawn the next day. This view has always amazed me. It’s a lot different from the linear picture I see from the balcony of my bedroom. The view from my bedroom is like a painting – static and surreal. This particular view, however, appears more like a fish eye view in a subtle way. A reality that is skewed just a little bit. I began imagining grid lines all over the image. Pixels. Maybe I will daydream again that none of this is real. Maybe I’m still hoping that I will witness the glitch and break free, out of this prison called reality.

I can never describe or measure just how heavy my chest has to carry. Not a day goes by that I did not tell myself that my mind is about to explode. In every waking moment of my life, I tried. I tried to meditate, relax, pamper, cook, read, and write. I have done everything I can to lift the weight off me. But my mind is never unoccupied and if there was ever a day that I was awake and peaceful, surely a nightmare will come to me in my sleep.

Bad dreams, worst, confusing dreams within dreams within dreams. I remember falling asleep on my bed one afternoon. I heard someone knocking and I stood up to get the door. I opened the door and saw an old friend who, disturbed and extremely sad, visited me last year. When I opened the door, he did not come in. Instead, he turned his head and laid his eyes on the hallway to his left (my right). He stayed silent and I could not help but notice the tenants right across my unit. The door was open and a couple was making out on the bed.

I woke up from that dream and again, I heard a knocking. I stood up and went for the door except this time, I looked through the peep hole. I saw my friend waiting outside. I cannot remember anything else accurately but I do remember having three dreams looped into one. I woke up in every “internal” dream thinking I was finally awake. That everything I saw was not real but everything I’m seeing now is, only to find myself waking up again and realizing how my mind played a fool out of me.

I remember the final one, though. This time I woke up and the room was very dark. I reached for the switch to turn on the lights but the light bulbs sparked a reddish orange for a few seconds and died. After that, I woke up on my bed, the same afternoon I slept. My mind was awake but I was unable to move. Again, it feels like my mind is sucking me up into another loop of dreams and I tried my hardest to fight it. I struggled getting up because no matter how hard I try to wake up, to get up, my body wasn’t moving. And then I woke up, afraid to fall asleep again.

These dreams remind me of my lost consciousness. The burden of thinking that every day is just another dream and the depression that comes from struggling to wake up and see what reality really looks like and not standing a chance against the system.

Trapped in a fish bowl