A dream’s end and an end’s dream
It is a Monday morning; light is beaming through the tiny gaps in my window. I can feel its warmth in my pearl white skin, telling me it is time to wake up. However, my mind seems like it is enjoying its dream, until…
I heard someone banging up my door and it was my father. Apparently, we were supposed to go and have a picnic outside. We do this yearly, as we commemorate the day my mother was born. Regarding my mother, she died while birthing me. Still, we prepared all of the things we needed for the picnic. I was tasked on making spaghetti and as usual, I will make the sauce sweet, following the Filipino-style recipe. “It’s done!” I breathe a sigh of relief as I finished cooking it.
As we go outside our house, we were blessed by a nice scenery. Wherever I look, I can see the lush green of the mountainside. The wind is blowing gently in periods and I can actually hear the unsophisticated sound of nature. This is because our house is located at the foot of Mt. Eden, a great tourist destination, not to mention that it may actually pass as the Eighth Wonder of the World.
“Ah~ this everyday feeling never gets old, isn’t it, father?” I uttered as we were walking outside. “I hope mom can feel this in heaven, I’m sure she will be delighted.”
Upon saying those words my father just smiled at me and remained quiet. That must be insensitive of me. I tried to change the topic as soon as possible and began cracking a joke (of sorts). “Oops, uhm… is mom really up in the heaven because I-I’m sure she was buried somewhere around that big apple tree, right? That means she must be the reason why this mountain is so beautiful.”
My father just nodded and smiled at me. Hearing that, we decided to keep on walking until we reached the apple tree. I didn’t know why there is an apple tree here in a tropical country like Philippines, but according to the fairy tales my father told me, the story of Snow White didn’t end when the prince awoke her in her sleep. Sure, she was magically saved, but not cured. A few years after giving birth to a son, Snow White died. When she did, the curse of her evil madrasta activated. Following this, in the place where Snow White was buried, grew a big apple tree, and as time passed by, there grew a few more. What he is inkling me is that it seems like that story happened here, according to my father. I’m sure he is just stitching fairy tales here and there just to tell me more stories but that’s what I really like – hearing his rehash of those fairy tales.
Upon reaching the tree, I greeted my mother. “Happy birthday mom! Cheers to happy new beginnings and to a more prosperous life. I hope that wherever you are right now you are enjoying your time just like how we are now. I promise to continue to improve and become a more respectable person you hoped me to grew up into.”
Finishing my greetings, my father and I seated at a bench near the tree and began to eat the food I made. My father stood there beside me when I am greeting mother looking like he is in the verge of crying. That is why I struck up a conversation, or more like a story telling session where I tell him the anecdotes of my entire life. I talked to my father as if it was a long while that we’ve met. I talked endlessly not caring if my father never got his turn. But I can see that he is enjoying it also, so I decided to continue.
A few moments later, I was still bothered why my father is still not speaking. It turned out that he was now sleeping beside the tree. I didn’t know when did he do that but still, he must be tired after a long day, or maybe my stories bored him up. Nevertheless, I knew he just got there, and I decided to complain on him quietly. “Hey father, why aren’t you speaking? I know that this is supposed to be a picnic, where we eat and do everything, but there is no harm in talking once in a while.”
He was peacefully lying down near the tree and here I am constantly complaining on his quietness the whole time. That is why I devised a plan on making him angry after he woke up. I doodled in his face some dark undereye. I also put some sauce in his mouth that seem like he ate messily. Of course, I spread it all over his shirt too. I also put a glass of iced tea on his hand and I’ve put the other hand in his stomach.
The light of the afternoon sun shone upon us while the wind still blew gently as the trees continued to sway. I chuckled as I finished touching up my father. “Woah father, you seem like you really liked my spaghetti that you deliberately fell asleep while eating it. This won’t do, after you wake up, you need to have a good beating.” I laughed so hard at the mess I brought upon my father.
It was a tiring day, and I can feel the fatigue crawling in my body. I decided to stop teasing my father more or I am the one who will get his a*s beaten to a pulp later. I lied down beside him and I saw an apple hanging up above my head. The wind still gently blew and swayed the apple tree. As soon as I closed my eyes, I felt the warm light of the sun seeping through the tiny gaps between the leaves of the tree. Then suddenly, the apple above me, fell into my head. I annoyingly opened my eyes, and to my shock, I heard Mrs. Maverick banging up and opening my door. It turns out that it was just a dream and my alarm clock just fell into my head.
“Isaac, if you will not wake up now, you will be late in your school!”
It was just a dream, oh how I wish to extend it just to see how my father will react when he saw what I did to him. With that in mind, I began to ponder, do dreams end because you woke up or, do they end because it is the end?
