Dreamland: Of passing, trade and pact

(Date Written) 04th June, 2015. 12:24pm


Photo c/o: pixshark.com

It was a beautiful service, only it wasn’t real. I don’t know how I managed to fake my own death, but I did. I know I took something—some pills or whatever—I just didn’t know what, or why even. I mean, what would make me fake my own death? And how come I didn’t notice any of my family attend the service?

And why wasn’t I even brought to the morgue? It was funny, because in the (open) casket I was put in, I couldn’t even keep my eyes closed for a long time. I don’t know why people believed I actually died.

Why I decided to kill myself is unclear. I wasn’t even sure whether I actually took those pills or not, but as I was put in a room before the service, a guy appeared before me, ripped my soul from my body and transferred it to another body. He told me of things I must do in order to get back to my old body, otherwise, I would stay dead forever.

It should’ve scared me, knowing I can’t get back to my body. But it doesn’t. Sure, the new body I was in seemed strange, devilish even, but it made me feel even more determined. I couldn’t, for the life of me, recall much of the details I need to do, but I know that I don’t have much time. I must hurry, or I would die… for real.

This dream reminded me so much of that Korean drama 49 Days, only I don’t need three pure love tears from three different people outside my family who truly love me. No. This one’s different. I remember seeing the girl I inherited was in a red outfit, and she seemed to be a bit angry. But despite her angry façade, she and I attended a mass, where we met with a few of her friends. After the mass, we went to a house where her friends and I climbed to get coconuts for us. But it was very muddy, and I remember I almost fell while trying to get one for the two of us. Thank God she was wearing rubber shoes! Once we got down from the tree, we headed back to a house,  and then it started raining mud. We ran as fast as we could, until both of us ran out of breath, and we were almost passing out. I know someone grabbed me, took me somewhere, but when I woke up, I found myself back in my bed.

About the dream:

I don’t know if it was a prophetic dream, but I do know that death in dreams doesn’t necessarily mean that I or someone is literally going to die. Death could also mean a new beginning. Of what, I don’t know. Now, the ripping my soul and trading part remains a mystery to me. What does it mean and why? To be honest, I wish I’d have stayed longer in the dream to know more. Then again, I’m glad I was awake to tell the story.





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