Red Wine

10: Organ Made of Bamboo

Ah, the organ made of bamboo. Yes, the piano organ type of organ. It is an iconic symbol in the south of the city, while also recognized globally. It looks just like a regular metal piano organ, functions like one, and even sounds like one. It belonged in a church too, and it's often used for their regular Eucharistic Masses.

But I'm not here to talk about the organ itself. I'm here to probably ramble about something that's been a recurring thing with me related to the organ.

Ever since I started having dreams in my sleep, which was when I was around five or six years old, that organ has always appeared in my dreams. Actually, I wouldn't even call it a dream - nightmare sounds more appropriate to describe it. You'd think child me would dream about it like, let's say, I'm watching someone play a beautiful piece on it as I watch them with full admiration, or it could be me playing the beautiful piece, being completely immersed in the moment.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. I live near the church where this organ is housed, and I'm always obligated to do my Sunday masses, so this organ is something I see frequently during my childhood. I've also seen it up close, touched it with my own hands, and probably played a random note with it too. Long story short, I was a regular audience member of this organ. What baffled me for my entire childhood was that singular nightmare. My brain somehow single-handedly convinced me that this organ is evil.

I mentioned earlier that I am obligated to attend Sunday masses at the church; that's because I am a young member of the choir, and I'm usually assigned during the late afternoon and evening masses. Of course, the choir will always be near the pianist, or in our case, we're always next to the organ. Oftentimes I would be assigned in the evening masses a lot more. Our routine as choir would be to go to the church hours early before the mass starts in order to practice the songs. Since the day is approaching evening by that time, the church becomes eerie for my younger self, as I don't fare well in dim environments or in places with ambient lighting, specifically warm and old-fashioned lights.

The nightmare goes like this - I was earlier than usual for the choir practice, so I was alone in the area where the organ was located. The chairs for the choir members weren't even set up yet, so I sat on the pianist chair. My child self was tempted to press some keys on the organ, but that would mean drawing unwanted attention from people, so I chose to behave and just faced away from the instrument. A little while later, child me got bored as I began to wander off the area and made a mental note to myself to just come back before practice starts.

I went to the souvenir shop next to the church and just went to look around, and I was lounging there until I heard the church bells ring five times, an indication that a new hour had arrived and being exactly 5 in the afternoon. However, for some reason, when I went out of the door where I previously went through, it led me to a different area than I remembered. I tried another door and it was yet again another room, again and again until I eventually ended up in the first room. Here, I heard the church bells ring five times again. The cycle repeats that I'll open a door and end up in a different room until I stumble upon the very first room and hear the five chimes of the church bell; the longer I am struggling in the maze, a voice becomes more audible that says "If you don't learn to play the bamboo organ, you will never be able to escape."

This has been my only dream in my sleep since then. Because of it, I tried convincing my parents to have me learn to play the organ, thinking that it may be my only way in order to stop having that nightmare. Sadly, we were only a poor family, thus we couldn't afford a tutor to teach me the instrument. The agony my child self felt for the longest time; I was convinced that I was cursed to have those dreams for the rest of my life until I learned how to play the organ.

Eventually there came a time when a friend of mine in school knew how to play the piano, so he offered to teach me for free every Saturday. This was the time that I found out that no matter how long or how patient my friend was to me in teaching me, my hands were not coordinated enough to play the organ. This was also the time that the nightmare upgraded into something worse - the whispering voice telling me I will never be able to escape was now always present in the dream, and not as gradual as before.

The nightmare stuck to me even until I reached adulthood, but the version of me in the dream has always been the child me. I was in my final year of high school and I needed to apply to a college far from my hometown because the universities near my city did not offer the college course that I wanted to take, unless I decided to take what they only have available.

Mind you, and I'm not saying this to brag but for further context, I did academically well throughout my entire elementary and high school journey. I am always in the top ten achievers, so it is safe to say I am knowledgeable and skilled at my preferred craft and course. However, despite all that, I managed to flunk all the entrance exams at the universities I wanted to enroll in.

You know where I passed? At the university near my city, on a course that my parents always wanted for me - to be a doctor. It felt miserable to my well-being; it didn't help as well that my nightmare seemed to be fueled from my real life misfortunes to become more gruesome. From gradual whispers, to permanent whispers, until the whispers in my dream became an actual voice in my head in my daily life. The matrix in the nightmare started as just a bunch of normal rooms in the souvenir shop, but now it's filled with things that I'm most afraid of - rooms with warm ambient lights, spiders, cockroaches, forests, and even things like becoming a doctor... basically everything that I feared in my life.

Maybe this is what the voice meant that I will never escape. I will never leave too far away from my hometown, and I will never escape from the path that my parents paved for me. I will never be my own person with my own decisions.

Just because I am unable to play the organ made of bamboo.