I fell asleep in the middle of the hot, scorching afternoon after only getting five and a half hours of sleep last night.
The hard narra wood pressing into my back didn’t much do anything to deter me from taking a nap, even though the backs of my knees were sticky and pooling with sweat. Before fully losing consciousness, my last waking thought was the frustration that even the air coming out of the fan was warm. I think that’s when I started to dream.
It was a warm summer night, but in August. I knew it was August because we were celebrating my birthday the way we used when I was a kid — a children’s party in the middle of our little compound, with tables laid out and the children all huddled together playing games.
I was inside that circle, too. There were people present whom I haven’t actively spoken to in years, much less looked in the eye, childhood friends who gradually turned into strangers.
One of the people I used to consider an older sister was selling phone cases. I wanted to buy one. So, I did. And as I was waiting for her to come back from inside her house to fetch my purchases, something else caught my attention.
At the end of the compound, a group of people were trying to light up some fireworks. I was fascinated by the explosives so I went over to where they were. But I knew something was wrong. There were a lot of bangs and explosions that I doubted were even made by the fireworks themselves. In the back of my mind, I knew they were gunshots but I paid them no heed.
Right when I started wandering away from the fireworks, I happened to walk by our old house. Its doors were wide open, and so I walked in like I still lived in that house. But it was empty of people and the emptiness pressed heavily on me so I ventured back outside. There was something big happening again, and this time, there were more people around inside our cramped compound. I could hear people screaming in terror, but their screams were mixed with laughter, that it was hard for me to decipher if they were laughing or screaming.
I saw that our gates were pushed open like they used to do before, revealing the garage where my grandparents’ room now sits. People were milling in and out of there, but the place was filled up with smoke either from a smoke machine or something else.
Someone had turned the garage into a haunted house and it was starting to draw quite a crowd. I intended to go inside, but there was no one left to go with. I didn’t want to go in alone. I whipped my head around for someone, anyone I could go with. There was a girl from church who wasn’t really a friend but I was on friendly enough terms with. But she rejected my offer before I could even say anything, with just a slight tilt of her head and a wan smile.
I really wanted to get inside our house and going through that dark maze was the only way. I shrugged and braved the darkness.
Except I didn’t run into anyone or into anything inside that haunted house.
In the middle of all this, I was beginning to get weighed down by melancholia and loneliness the more and more I was walking. I was aching for someone’s company, but I wasn’t even sure whose company it was I was longing for.
The next time I blinked, I was inside our house and it was also empty. I didn’t know where I was supposed to go at this point, but I headed upstairs. Something was pulling me towards the balcony.
I climbed the stairs, feeling inexplicably wary and anxious. As I was going up, I could see through the balustrade that the door to our room was slightly ajar, but instead, I went for the terrace entrance.
The hallway to the balcony was lit with dim and flickering lights, but I was oddly calm. I pulled open the balcony door, and was met by a cool breeze. One half of the terrace was blown off, and there were streamers haphazardly laying on every available surface. The floor was completely populated by confetti. Fairy lights lined the walls and the railings.
And sitting on what was left of the balcony was a boy with his legs dangled dangerously over the edge. He was wearing a yellow parka and glasses that were precariously perched on top of his nose.
I could only watch as he playfully swung his legs back and forth over the slab of rock he was on. His face was obscured and overshadowed by something that I can’t entirely remember what. I don’t think he even heard me come in. I shuffled in noisily, but still he wouldn’t look up.
I walked to where he was sitting comfortably, and stood over him quietly. He seemed to be watching the people down below, even though I couldn’t really see anyone anymore. I wanted to reach out to him or put a hand on his shoulder. Either would do. But instead, I cupped a hand over his head, and sank my fingers in his hair. I could feel rather than see his shudder and finally, finally he looked at me.
A warm rush of affection, fondness, and a sense of belongingness coursed through me. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew at that moment that he was special to me — he was going to be special to me.
Wordlessly, he scooted over to make space for me and I sat down next to him. We were shoulder to shoulder, his ankle bumping occasionally into mine.
We sat in companionable silence. I wanted to hold his hand, but I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to.
I didn’t want to scare him away. I laid my hand on his thigh gently, and put my hand out palm facing up. He could take it or choose to ignore it, and whichever choice was fine with me. I still hoped he’d take it though.
He did. He slid his fingers through mine, entwining our fingers together. I was warm all over and suddenly, all the absurd and atrocious things that went on earlier melted away into oblivion. This is what it was leading me to.
I smiled to myself and he let me rest my head on his shoulder. All I could remember was how well his hand fit in mine.
I wanted to kiss him, too. I tried to crowd him against the wall and ended up kissing his cheek. We both erupted in giggles about it until someone barged in on us. We sprang apart and the moment was gone.
I felt a hot blush spread across my face and down my neck, but I was secretly pleased to see he was flustered, too.
It was one of his girl friends, who’d come to check up on us. She kept laughing and teasing us over finally getting our acts together.
I blindly reached out for his hand, and was relieved when he took it. I knew then that I loved him, and that I was loved in return.
And then…
I was harshly yanked out from my dream. My back was aching from being curled up into a fetal position for so long on the single couch, and my heart was racing. My shirt was soaked and starting to stick to my skin uncomfortably. But a phantom feeling of someone still holding my hand still lingered.
Feeling disoriented and groggy, I worked my way upstairs in hopes of getting to my laptop in time to write all of this down. I was thrown in for a loop and a huge wave of deja vu hit me at the sight of the stairway balustrade — a sight so familiar but now made all the hairs on my back stand up. It was suffocating, all of a sudden, to stand in that same space but at a different time.
It was dark in the hallway leading to the balcony, highly reminiscent of the same hallway in my dream. But this time, only a patch of sunlight lit up my way. Slowly, I unlocked the door to the balcony because I didn’t want anybody downstairs to hear me. I was breathing heavily.
I didn’t know what I was expecting, but everything was in their usual places with dust gathering over them, on the floor and over everything that the sunlight could touch. I bit back bitter disappointment.
There were no colorful streamers, no confetti, nor any fairy lights.
There was no boy sitting on the artful ruins of an old balcony with his yellow parka and his warm, warm hands.
I closed the door, turned the lock, and went back to reality.
likhang hiwaga 