Dreams are renewable. No matter what our age or condition, there are still untapped possibilities within us and new beauty waiting to be born.

-Dale Turner-

Friday, March 16, 2012

Melancholia

*This is one long post*

Sweet dreams keep us dreaming. Of course keep us sleeping. But of late, I wake up next to the same nightmare I found disturbing.

No, different. But nightmares still. Heck there's no speckle of thought on it at all. As for now.

This reminds me back of one nightmare, or weird dream, I dont know what was that but sure it still haunts me up to these days. And I still remember every single detail of it.

It was a dark night, icy-cold. The chilling sensation froze my bones. I was walking alone in the dark, letting my instinct drived me on the path that seemed unfamiliar. It was indifferent from all those terrains I used to walk on; like the ordinary neighborhood, with a line of houses on the roadside, and one end of the road up to nothing. A dead end. And all the house were blanketed in black, there's no trail of lights anywhere. It just a cold and black, silent night.

But there was this one house with light at the end of the road.


So I keep on walking, faster this time; to clear my doubts. I was so bedazzled by that light that smeared. Getting close, I slowly hear voices; more like chants anyway. And getting closer I realized that was recital of Surah Yaasiin.

I was dead.

I knew then that I was dead. In the house, I saw a white figure lying on the floor, neatly kafan, but it wasnt me. Theres a lot of people there, preferrably pakcik makcik that come for tahlil and sort. In front of the jenazah sat two old people, of whom I reckon as the jenazah's parents. The mother was crying but she looked as calm as the ocean. The father sat silently, all he did was reading the Yaasiin for his son. And there at his back was a guy of my age, 19 or so I thought that seemed to notice me. He waved.

So he noticed me. The only person that did.

With much excitement I reached for him, wanting to tell thousand things. But the only words that I could utter were, "How can you see me? Do you know?".

"Yes. I know. Sadly only I alone could see you."

Shocked, and confused just as much, I turned around to see if anyone's there. Anyone I know. And I caught a glimpse of familiar faces; few friends that I regard as brothers and many more that I can barely remember. I tried to call but theres no response. I ask for the guy's help, maybe if he could ask my friends to come over they could see me. I was about to smile when they came, believing that they did notice me.

But they didn't.

Grief-stricken, I walked away from there with no regrets. They couldn't see me; it was just my soul wandering. And while getting off, I took a last look upon the faces I have grown to know and love. They were as happy as ever, I guess my disappearance would mark nothing at all. Knowing that, I smiled and let go.


The next thing I know was that it was a very beautiful, enchanted garden I was strolling around. The lush greenery, picturesque wonders and golden sun above. It was as if for once in my life, I could feel the serenity I was longing for. But then suddenly the earth trembled, land broke, and greens turned to reds. All my body was numb, I couldn't move a bit. And then comes a voice.

"Marabbuka?!!!"

I couldn't say anything. As if my mouth was jammed shut, I can just say it in my heart. But it was racing fast, I could feel it about to explode. My ears were turning deaf over the echo that goes straight into the cochlea, as if its too loud that it about to shatter. My face was covered in sweat too.

I was so scared. Terribly.

I can't remember how many questions were there, but after the long, frightening noises that caught me off guard, I heard one voice. "Before its too late." That was it, and soon I was freed. I felt my trembling body, shivering in numbness, and sickness. Bewildered. I know I was dead. This is it, no turning back. But suddenly all the green landscape came back, as if pleading me to stay, never leave.

Out of the blue, I remember my mother, and sisters, and father, and the rest of my family. I promised them I would call by tomorrow (which means the day I died) and realized that I was gone before I could hear any of their voices. I was already gone. Knowing this breaks my heart so much that I could barely stand on my legs; I sat there on my knees, crying my heart loud. The surrounding was clear, everything was as pretty as before, with birds singing over the colorful flowers. But I just sat there crying, because I knew I could never rewind the time. The thought of my family left me so devastated, that I could do nothing for them before I was gone. I couldn't help.

With so many tears streaming, I woke up to the sound of my fan, and saw the ray of light shining through my hostel window. I was back to my real life, but I couldn't stop crying. When everything's done, I called my mum, to hear her voice, and relieved that everything has gone back to normal. And I prayed later, that I could fix this somehow. That I could be the Muslim I am always supposed to be.


So much that a dream has to teach you about. I believe too, this is one way He sends us reminders upon ourselves. To get back on track before you lose control. I believe.











No dream has ever been this alive.


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