Kahit Sa Panaginip Lang...

I had a dream last night... I saw my late father standing in front of a door, in a very familiar house. Patiently waiting for someone, and this is the first dream i had away from home. Seven months na ko dito sa Casablanca, Morocco, at ito ang unang panaginip na dumalaw sa pagtulog ko. Hindi ako yong tao na madalas managinip nor the type of person that usually interpret dreams into something else or consult experts to unlock the meaning of it. But this time it's different, it's my father, the late Mario Verdan Sn. Parang na home-sick ako bigla which is very unusual kasi sanay ako na magpalutang-lutang... wherever life takes me. From the time I wake up, till working hours and back to our accommodation, till present time as per this writing, suddenly I feel like going home. And suddenly I miss my father.     

My younger days was filled with fun and laughter because of him. Natatandaan ko pa na bago kami matulog na magkakapatid ay madalas na makakarinig kami ng mga kwento mula sa kanya. Nakaupo kami ng pabilog habang matamang nakikinig at nanonood sa bawat kumpas at galaw ng kanyang mga kamay na nagbibigay kulay at buhay sa bawat salitang binibigkas nya. Pero bago nya umpisahan ang bawat kwento, manunukso muna yan... at ito ang isa sa madalas na pambitin nya sa amin. 

"Noong unang panahon.............................. meron daw, panda gaw-gaw, panghalo, sa nilugaw." At lahat kami ay aangal at magrereklamo na ituloy na nya ang kwento. 

Marahil hindi pa nakakarating sa baryo namin ang mga fairy tales books, o wala lang talagang pambili dahil sa kahirapan ng buhay pero ang mga kwento nya ay higit pa sa mababasa mo sa libro. Sa kanya ko unang narinig ang ibat-ibang alamat at bugtong na hindi ko alam. Mga kwentong katatakutan, na mauuwi sa pag-iyak ng isa sa amin dahil sa takot at mga kwentong nakapagbibigay ng aral. I wonder how he manage to make up all those stories. Pero nagawa nya kahit wala siyang mataas na pinag-aralan. 

Pag wala kaming ulam, kanin lang, asin at mantika ng niyog, napapasarap nya. Alam nyo ba kung pano nya ginagawa? He will make rice balls out of it. Bibilugin nya ang kanin gamit ang kanyang mga kamay na pagod sa pag-aaro ng bukid at isa-isang ilalagay sa mga plato namin. At mag-uunahan na kami, na igawa pa nya ng mas marami at ang isang salat na pagkain sa aming harapan ay daig pa ang handa sa piyestahan. (Now I realize how hard would that be for a parent like them, my itay and inay, to see us na yon lang ang kaya nilang ilagay sa hapag kainan. Now i know their heart is crying during those times) Now I also realize what I'm missing... my family back home, ang inay at ang mga kapatid ko. 

Para po sa inyo Itay, hayaan nyong ako naman ang magkwento. At ito ang kwento nating dalawa....

"In our Dreams"

When I was a kid, I dreamed that I was climbing a not so steep hill with my father. He was a few steps in front of me. With my little hands, I tried so hard to grab everything that I can just to cope with the pace of my father. Bruises and blisters I didn't mind just to be able to get closer to him.  But every pace I make, the more my father seems to go farther and farther away... I keep calling him but he will just wave his hands to me in a gesture to climb towards him. Every time I'll fall and stumble, suddenly his almost there in front of me... within reach... but the moment I stand up and start climbing again... there he goes... drifting and drifting farther away from me... These scenario goes on and on in circles... like a short movie film, set to a constant replay...searching for an ending that's never going to happen...

I can't remember how it ends and how I manage to wake up. That time... I don't even care what's the meaning of that dream or try to understand it with my childlike mind. But I do vividly remember is what happens next, the day after that dream.

It was a small group of people gathered in a nipa hut with a bottle of "Lambanog" at the center (Lambanog is a local wine in quezon province). It was a local tradition that after a hard days work, it has to be followed by a drinking session. It is a tradition that originated in the famous "Bayanihan Tradition" where people in a certain localities will help hand in hand who's in need. Our version is what we called "Turnohan". A group of workers will help the host do a certain task, mostly tendering the fields or clearing the land. Hosting is done in turn until everyone in the group becomes host. That day, my father was a host and at that moment... he was telling a story.

It was my dream! How come he knows what i dreamed last night? I didn't tell anyone about my dream. But my father tells the story of my dream in details... until it became clear to me that he was telling the story of his dream not mine.

My dream... his dream... we have the same dream that night. He was there in my dream... i was there in his... I don't know how that would be possible. The only thing I know, that moment was special & magical... 


Parang isa sa mga kwentong kababalaghan na madalas naming marinig sa kanya, ang kaibahan lang ito ay sa totoong buhay at isa ito sa mga ala-alang aking dadalhin hanggang sa kabilang buhay... hanggang sa muli nating pagkikita.

-Wakas-

Author's note:

Itay, I miss you po...sana nakasama ka namin ng mas matagal.... Pero masaya ako ngayon dahil nakasama kitang muli, Kahit sa panaginip lang.