Dreamland: Invisible

28th November, 2014. 11:02am

Pabitin

Pabitin: A traditional Filipino game
Photo c/o: flickr.com

We were on our way to somewhere—me, Mom and Dad—perhaps my siblings, I don’t know. We rode a jeepney—I don’t know why didn’t we just bring our car—and as the jeep pass by the highway, I noticed that the streets are filled with Pabitin (Pronounced “Pa-bee-tin”)—a traditional Filipino game where a lattice of bamboo sticks is filled with toys and goodies, hung in such a manner that can be easily raised or lowered; the kids will then assemble under it and tries to grab as many goodies as they can while the pabitin is being lowered and raised, until there was nothing left. It was so odd, but I didn’t question it. My guess was either there was a feast or there will be one.

When we reached the intersection, we stopped and get down the jeepney. We were supposed to pass through the throng of people in what seemed like a bazaar sale or something. Dad was leading us, while I was in the rear. Somehow, as I was passing through rows upon rows of bags (I saw red JanSport all over), I lost them, so I started yelling, “Mom!” I keep yelling her name until my voice becomes hoarse, but no ones seems to hear me out. I even saw a couple of friends, but they’re in deep conversation, not paying attention to the screaming girl in front of them.

I’m at the end of the throng and almost at the entrance of what seemed like a library, still yelling and looking for Mom, when she appeared and called me. She said Dad was inside. I asked how come people are not paying attention to me, and she said I was invisible to them; we were invisible. I was a bit shocked by this news, but didn’t say anything as always. She led me through the door, and the next thing I knew, I was awake.

What the entire dream was about, I don’t know, but this I’m sure of:

1. The Pabitin, I think, kinda like represents my dreams, or goals perhaps. I can see them, and perhaps I can even reach them, I just don’t know if I can jump higher.
2. In a sea of people, the only one I can truly count on is my Mom… and myself.
3. Despite my cry for help, for some people, apparently I was invisible. They can’t see the pain inside of me. Or maybe they just really don’t care.

I could be wrong, I don’t know, but despite everything I’ve seen and learned from that dream, I’m glad I still have my Mom to help me find my way back.

KTHXBYE.

Jhack

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