A Dragonfly's Dream

Chapter I- There is no expiry date

DREAM JOURNAL :

There is no expiry date

We were back in high school. Someone (was it me?) offered some candy, and he had the one that was too old, almost expired!

"Why did you take that? It's too old." I asked.

He smiled. "This is the one I want. "

....................................................

The Count of Monte Cristo was perhaps my favorite novel of all time. Unlike Edmund Dantes, the main character in the story, I was not incarcerated nor tortured in solitude for many years, no. Although deep down, maybe I was trapped in a prison of my own making.

In my own simple way, revenge had been my life.

Sometimes, I wonder, how would the hero have felt if the villain had suddenly died in the middle of the story? Would he have been happy? Or perhaps felt lost ---? I mean, if his sole purpose for living was gone, then, what the hell was life all about?

He quit the game too soon.

When I learned of James' demise, I was then in law school and staying at a dormitory somewhere in a dirty, chaotic place called the Mendiola area --- a place where thieves and robbers and all sorts of chaos abound.

Perhaps there was a time, somewhere during the Spanish era, (when the Philippines was still a colony of Spain), when that place held some magic in it. A time when the Mendiola Creek was still clean, fresh --- and alive! Alas, those days were long gone. There was no trace of magic left. Not even a bit. All that was left was cynicism. Its innocence had long faded away. Just like James, the Mendiola Creek was as dead as could possibly be.

Even my boarding house provided no escape.

My roommate Gail, and I shared the room together. Gail's brother called it, "the batcave". It was dark, suffocating, and dreary. It provided no view of the outside for it had no windows. Good thing we had air conditioning, otherwise, it would not have been livable! What can I say, it was really difficult to find a good place in that area.

At times, I felt so trapped that I wanted to just get out of there and breathe some fresh air, or perhaps go to the beach. I didn't have time for that, though. We had to study A LOT, as there were always piles and piles of books and cases to read. There was no poetry at all in the cramped and dirty place that I woke up to day after day after day.

What a sharp contrast from my high school life in Paranaque! The Paranaque area down south was quite different and you could say, somewhat isolated from the rest of Metro Manila. It was a place where the air was cleaner. It was quieter. And it was definitely more peaceful. Svelle High, being a school mostly for the rich elite, was located in that area.

Come to think about it, I didn't get to enjoy my high school life a lot, thanks to he who hath passed away. Yet it was nonetheless, a time in my life that held such innocence, hope ---beauty. It was a time in my life where I believed all things were possible.

.........

I guess you could say that ruminating about the past gave me this warm and cozy feeling... like sitting beside a fireplace. Of course, being a tropical country, we don't really have fireplaces, but with the proliferation of American movies and TV shows, it almost feels as if--- we do!

The days and moments spent in Svelle suddenly danced in my mind, as though everything was just yesterday. Ah, but don't get me wrong. Like I said, I didn't enjoy high school at all! I loved my best friends, Maya, Charise and Ria. I was happy because it was the time when I met these wonderful women who later became my friends for life. So, I guess that warm fireplace feeling has really more to do with being with my friends, and all that went on in our small world, rather than high school in general.

Perhaps, in hindsight, I could reminisce on my Svelle life, see it with a little twinkle in my eye, and heck, maybe even miss it! But back in the day---high school was hell. As in H-E-L-L.

I do remember saying that high school was a place of beauty, and I think that needs a bit more explaining. It's a beauty that's appreciated more in retrospect. It's like being part of a play where each of us has a role to fulfill. My role was difficult. I was not the shining star, nor the prom queen that everyone loved. I was more like the unnoticed wallflower that people just passed by.

During the play, you get so immersed in your role, in the agonies and pits of it, and you just want it over and done with! It is only later, much later, after the curtains have fallen down, and everyone has gone home and settled for the night, when you realize that though you may not have played the star, nonetheless you did have a role, and it was a stellar performance.

But that didn't mean it was easy!

............

So maybe it was that some of that magical residue from high school had somehow found its way to me. A hint of fairy dust, if you could call it that, stayed in my body. That dust no doubt found its way into my mind, as I slept that night, forming the images of a dream. It was a dream that took me back to a place I thought I had left behind.

I began recording my dreams ---about him, that is. I don't know why I did it. Maybe I wanted to keep a part of my 'villain' with me somehow. I couldn't fully comprehend why it was, that for some childish, sentimental reason, I wanted to keep a part of him with me.

"You remember that guy I told you about? My classmate from high school?" I asked my roommate, Gail. She was much older than me and was a bit chubby, with short, practical hair. The kind that didn't need much maintenance. She was never vain by any means. She thought caring for one's appearance was a sin. We were so different from each other, yet surprisingly, we got along.

We had just finished our Negotiable Instruments class with Dean Zuniga. He really was the scariest Professor you could ever imagine. He had a deep, authoritative voice that could inspire terror. Judging from the way every strand of his hair were all gray, he was probably very old. Ancient, perhaps. He never bothered to use artificial coloring. In the same way that there was not a single strand of black hair left on his head, so too, there was a total absence of mercy in his cold heart.

As we shared the batcave together, Gail and I always talked to each other after our long and stressful days of law school. Especially after the Dean's classes. It was kind of like therapy. After all, misery loved company.

"Yes, of course, Lyssa. He died of a car accident. What of him?" She answered. It was obvious from her face that she found it a relief to be able to talk about other things besides legal provisions.

"Well, I think he's asking me to pray for him." I shrugged. "I dreamt about him."

"Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you pray for him?" Gail stressed, as though the question was obvious.

"Nope. Why should I?" I asked defiantly.

Gail gave me a look of exasperation. I knew what she was thinking. Being the deeply religious sort, Gail was "Ms. Forgive and Forget". Her rationale went something like 'If God can forgive, then why can't we?'

I thought it was all crap.

"I guess I won't get my revenge after all." I said, shaking my head. "I won't be able to make my grand entrance where he would see how much I had changed, and then it would be my turn to reject him in a MAJOR way!"

It wasn't as though I had changed much actually. Appearance wise, I was pretty much still the same person. I still wore my hair long. I felt I was still too thin. And thanks to the rigors of law school, I also did not have much time to truly care about my appearance. Although, deep down, I vowed to one day change all that. "He never said a word to me in high school. And we were certainly not friends! So, why on earth should he expect that I, of all people, would pray for him?" I continued.

There was a sudden splash as the glass of water on the side table spilled onto the floor. "Jeez! Look at that mess!" Gail said, hurriedly wiping the floor. Then, she looked at me oddly. "Don't freak out but I just noticed ---there was no wind."

"Could it be that we're being haunted?" I gave out a little laugh but the sound of my own laughter made me nervous, somewhat. It was as though my words reverberated in the air. Were we?