The Trouble With Dreams

The earliest dream I can remember was somewhere in my 6th or 7th year of life. I thought I was flying, because I saw trees passing below me. I saw hills, and grass on the hills, and more trees, and everything was quiet.

And on the horizon, I saw the sky. A vast, colorless image of vastness beyond the horizon.

Funny, but apparently, I cannot remember any color in any of my dreams. I must be living in a black-and-white universe when I dream. But that is not actually my point.

Back to my flying dream. I still can vividly remember how I tried to reach for the sky, how I tried to stretch out in my effort to defy the law of gravity. But it became clear to me that I only reached a height of about 30 to 40 feet.

The best part was, my friends and other people were there, and they kneeled and bowed in my presence. In my record, that was the best dream I can ever recall.

Fast forward to 2004. Age: 33. Most remembered as the most tumultuous time in my life. First there was silence, then came the thundering rush of all the rivers of the world, crashing against each other, falling down from a mountain, to my direction. I had to jump somehow, until I realized I was down on the floor, as I woke up due to the pain on my forehead, thanks to the wooden table beside my bed.

Fast forward again, a couple of weeks ago. I was convicted of something, probably a grave crime or misconduct or whatever, I didn’t know what for, nobody told me. Then I realized I was on death row. Alone.

I had no choice, but to wake up.

I can also remember one time, when I was looking at a ball, gradually enlarging, with a high-pitched sound, until it popped in front of me, then I woke up with a high-grade fever and a severe headache.

The nice thing about dreams, is that there is no limit as to what you can dream. In my dreams, I could be king, or god, or whatever.

The trouble with dreams, I don’t know how each story started. And most dreams just don’t make sense. The sequence of episodes don’t make sense. And some are terrifying and ugly.

But be it a good dream or a bad dream, the best thing about it is that eventually, it all ends by waking up.

Somebody once told me, “May all your dreams come true!”

I said, “Bullshit.”

When I was young, I wanted all my dreams to come true.

But now I am convinced, I don’t want all my dreams to come true.

Because some of them are nightmares.


- John Emmanuel T. Manalo, MD
  September 8, 2008