There it was the abyss, a large dessert of rocky sand in the tone of ancient skeletons exposed to the merciless sun for eons and eons, the light of death. And there I was riding with two beings I once thought deceased inside a Jeep of contrasting color, the dark of fertility, similar to the “Korean-War -Jeep” I grew up riding. However unlike the one I grew up with this was comfortable, this one I could breathe the rural air, sit on seats of feathers, see through an invisible glass and move with ease. I look next to me and my dog, my Rhodesian ridgeback, my dead dog; Loki sat with a flawless coat, a straight face and mouth closed. At first I assumed that he had no life or no emotion but when I looked closer he was teaming with life. The driver was a man who I dearly looked up to. He was Carlos, or at least I knew him by that name, he worked for National Geographic as a traveling journalist. I remember him well despite the short time I did know him, he loved my father schnitzel and came here to the Philippines to write about the days here when some men would put themselves voluntarily to the tortures and trials Jesus had to face on his last day among us. Last directly I heard of him was that he found the case was in Mindanao a curious case and was worth writing about however the government had still to consider this, then he would try to illegally travel to Singapore to experience it for himself to sell a story that would attract plenty of readers. Later that year math teacher, Teacher Chris, announced that a National Geographic Writer went missing down south of the Philippines and I reacted quickly to that. He just sat there with the attire he would so often use; a vest with numerous pockets which were never empty over a shirt and shorts with plenty of pockets as well. But he looked… as good as he’ll ever do, with skin that glowed with health, long white curly hair that spoke wisdom, and his face though blank as the dogs was overflowing with life. Yes, they had already passed from this world but what was I doing with them? I will never know.
As the road grew bumpier so did our surroundings. From an endless dry white to houses and concrete walls. There was no transition from the dessert to the housing but rather it just happened, they appeared from nothing into nothingness and we kept on driving. There was no one around that I could see, hear or feel. This place was empty but it livelier than one would think. It was quiet, it was empty, but in each house you could feel the potential around you, as if there will be people in them undoubtedly. We came to a halt and the vehicle faced the end of the road into a beach and Carlos left with Loki following him, both still as presentable as ever. So I decided to follow them, what else was there to do? And it felt like I should. But neither would wait for me.
Following them, I looked toward the ocean and stopped to see that there was not a shimmer in this endless expanse of water and not a cloud in the proud blue sky. It was nearing sunset and it looked as if two suns were going to collide with each other. I looked back and saw that the two had traveled some distance in land but still on the beach, which was quite a big beach from what I saw. Then I noticed something, something I no longer adore today: A wooden pickaxe. I couldn’t help myself and I had to see it up close since I have been a Minecraft fanatic since 2010. I picked it up and saw the part of the wood was rotten and it had the potential to cause splinters so I threw back and at the corner of my eye I saw shovel, I’ve always adored shovels because for a creative mind a shovel basically is a giant spoon. I picked it up as well and noticed the rust on its head and so, like the wooden pickaxe, I threw it back. The more I looked, the more I found and the more I threw. CD’s were littered throughout the beach, I’d investigate this old television half buried in the white powdery sand, there were entire trees of driftwood that retained every root and branch, and far many other insignificant desires-for this is no beach of resort but a beach if not the beach of desires. I stopped rummaging and see that Carlos and Loki had entered a giant coral skeleton that took up the end of the beach and I dared not follow them for the one reason I wouldn’t, I wasn’t meant to be there at that time and the time will come when I to have passed life. Discussing the dream to the few who would understand they tell me that this was a vision of afterlife, which seems likely enough. But why couldn’t I find something worth while in the beach of desires. Perhaps some force was telling that all my desires are worthless and that I must seek far more significant things or maybe I must look past my desires even more so than I do. But the idea that came to me later on was that everything will die in time, so why spend time on something that I won’t love for the rest of my life. Now I needed a sign…
I looked back at the houses to see if the Jeep was there since I had a powerful urge to become comfortable but what I saw then and now had change. What I saw a was a mountain that had not been shaved of its life and by the shore was a tower, a magnificent tower that stood through what looked like white marble or limestone but given its structure both would find a way destroy itself because of weight or durability. But it stood like new relic, a symbol that humanly marvels will not stop until there are no beings to admire them. The tower stood like fancy side table, caving in toward the middle then equalizing itself to end with a flat base in which atop of it ended into a round point. No glass was present on the windows and each window was rounded at the top and big enough for people to fit on. I walked toward this tower with my jaw dropped but something else had left me far more awestruck.
The tower was not the sign; it could’ve been anything from a figment of my imagination to a potential career in architecture. No the sign is far more exhilarating than that and it began when I saw this woman standing by the large entrance of the tower and facing my direction. She could not see me, but I could see her quite well and there is only one word that would describe her: enchanting. But other than that I do not remember what she looked like but for some reason I knew she’d be in her thirties. From behind the tower, a girl came running fast toward her with no sight of me again. And I knew she was about twelve if not older and for the same reasoning as I have with the older woman her face, her appearance was not one that my memory held or could hold but a word I do retain: perfect. This was not the sign… That would come now when a voice I knew all too well came from behind me saying ‘what are you two doing here.’ I looked behind me and saw myself only an inch or two older and definitely much older. I had long hair that grew beyond my neck and was tied back on a pony tail revealing the hair line I found irritating till recently when I thought otherwise, I let my facial hair grow just to be shown not longer that inch, I had the same face only one with more knowledge and experience one that had seen an endless things more than I have now and even more joy and despair, a scar from the end of my right cheek and finally two powerful eyes. When I realized that I was looking at me, I woke up and the dreaming had ended leaving so many questions on my head and for some reason I will not know all the answers till that day when I look at the fifteen year old me or remember that I had seen myself when I was younger then in a dream. But a few things had obvious answers if the dream was a vision of the future: I’ll have a new scar and hair style which I plan to try as soon as my hair grows to a reasonable length, I’m going to have a wife and a daughter, I might build or I might visit this marvelous tower some day, the beach of desires and the abyss do not exist in this world, Loki and Carlos are dead and I will live to see my thirties. But in between there are those questions! Like who she, where is that, why then and there, the questions sound simple yet the answer only lies in time and are granted to those who have the patience for it.
I have hope that when I sleep I would see something like that again. I close my eyes and I used to see those I care and things that interest me. Never have I had a dream of such complexion and such detail that I mistook it for a memory when I woke, perhaps it would’ve been better as such however thankfully I compare myself to he who I saw who was me and I know that is me because he’s not who I aim to be. He was a stranger to my thoughts, concepts and ideas of me. Because I have always been something different to what I want to be for faiths sake, never would’ve I thought that I would be me as a child and never will I know who I am to be, all I can really trust is the pony tail…
-Andre Stolk
