LIVING GHOSTS

02. Dreamland

I was already awake and could hear their voices. They were trying their best to make it sound like a whisper, but I could hear them. And I cared less about them nor what they were saying. The only thing that mattered to me was my husband. I wanted my husband at that moment. I believe I had woken up from my dream.

As I looked around me, I wondered where I was. Was I still in the hospital? I looked around me again, and I observed that my environment didn't look like a hospital. Neither was I putting on a hospital gown. And I wondered - if I wasn't in the hospital, where was I? Whose home was I in? Did my husband finally come home? Was I dreaming all along? Did I hit my head somewhere?

Careful with the questions, Belinda. Answers are coming.

Then and there, my subconscious that had been quiet for over five years finally spoke and I didn't know if I should be happy or sad. On hearing it, I just sighed, and tried to listen to the gossipers so I could grab something useful from their conversation.

According to what I heard from them, I had fainted twice. But then, who wouldn't faint? I should even be dead if eventually all they said about my husband was true.

Either way, I perked my ears and listened for a while, but I didn't get anything useful. I didn't get anything close to what I wanted to hear.

Frustrated at not getting anything useful, and not comfortable with my sitting position, I tried to shift and immediately, I heard them stop. My movement might have told them I could hear them, or I had heard them.

"Belinda, are you awake already?" I heard a voice I had not heard for the past five years and immediately, I felt my heart freeze. Was it really her? The voice of course sounded familiar and there was no way I could have forgotten so easily.

Making the whole situation seem less awkward, I turned towards the position I heard the voice come from, and I saw her, my mother, the only woman I had missed while I was with my husband all those years. And immediately, I felt the hot tears trickle down my cheeks.

When she finally got closer to me, sitting beside me on the bed, the only thing I could do was fall into her arms and weep. My mother, the only woman I had missed while I was with my husband all those years.

"Mama, tell me it's not true. He cannot be dead. We've been together for over five years now since we left here. Please tell me they're all lying. Please tell me I'm dreaming. Tell me what I have to do to wake up from this nightmare. Please." I cried uncontrollably, and could sense my mother's grip on me tighten.

I knew that there was no way anyone could do anything if it were eventually true, but I strongly didn't want to believe it yet.

"Belinda," my mother called, and I raised my head up to look at her once again. "I understand how you feel," she said and wiped her tears before wiping mine. "But as much as it hurts you and hurts me too, I'm sorry, but it's the truth."

"No." I cut in immediately, but she stopped me.

"Listen," she moved closer to me and wiped the tears that threatened to trickle again. "It is not a dream. You're not asleep and dreaming. You're in the real world, you're facing reality. Larry is dead. Your husband is dead." She paused, and I watched as the tears trickled again. And it burned my heart. "I'm sorry, Belinda, but he died five years ago." She broke out, and I didn't have the strength to scream again nor did I have the strength to say anything anymore. I was weak, in pain and in disbelief.

Do you know what it means to have been living with a dead man for five years? Not just anyone, but your husband. Someone whom you shared everything together with, did everything together with, someone you even gave your all to, nothing excluded. Only for you to receive the news that he had died five years ago. Lord! I just couldn't take it. I just felt at that moment that I could explode. I was no longer me.

It took me another five hours before I could sleep again, only to wake up during midnight around 1:30 am. And I noticed that my mother was already asleep next to me.

I watched how she slept, and I wondered, was she dead too? Was I also living with a dead mother? Was everyone around me dead too and now ghosts?

At that moment, there were so many questions but great fear of getting answers, especially when they wouldn't be in my favor.

While it was just me awake, I thought about many things in so many crazy ways. But, I couldn't just help it.

A few minutes later, after not finding anything worth doing, I decided to force myself to sleep. And just as I was in the midst of it all, I cried and cried, wept and wept. It was just as if I had begun to mourn my late husband five years ago. But all those things didn't help me in any way. Instead, it only heightened the pain I felt.

Soon enough, after crying, I slept off, and woke up the next morning, ready to do something.