Isip Bitaw*

Panaginip # 976

I was an uncertain angel.

This world was new to me. The Bomb had been dropped on our city earlier that decade, and the human race was just beginning to recover. All our skyscrapers had been razed to the ground. Where there were condominiums and apartment complexes and sprawling estates, now there were only ruins and abandoned buildings. Most of the women had died, so the planet was once again ruled by men and cockroaches.

I'd flown down to take care of an old man who refused to die. He had found the river of youth in his backyard: when the Bomb hit the town, the impact of its explosion lay bare this underground river, which happened to open up behind his house. When he drank from the river, he was 92. Since then, he has not aged at all. Though he still had to use a walking cane (the water did not heal his broken hip), he was one of the few men in the area who survived the Bomb.

He lived alone in an old, decrepit house. It was the only one that was left in the village, and it was hardly visible from up above because it was hidden behind dense thickets of talahib and overgrown trees.

Come with me.

I can give you peace.

There is no such thing.

Not Anywhere.

Not Here.

Panaginip # 977

She was in the fruit market.

It was 6:30 in the morning, her favorite time of the day - the sun had just risen, dew was still on the leaves, even the sky felt new. She was shopping for macopa and pineapples to put in her lover's breakfast salad.

While she was in line at the cashier's, she bumped into a man who had almost become her husband all those years ago. He, too, had the same fruits in his basket as she did. With him was a young boy, probably six or seven years old. He was dark and elf-like, with eyes as green and probing as his father's. He was cradling a small pumpkin in his arms.

Nice to see you after so long, he nodded.

Yes. Your son?, she asked, steeling herself.

Yes, he replied, grinning broadly, it's his first time here.

The little boy threw the pumpkin up in the air, then caught it deftly with one hand.

Panaginip # 978

Tinanong sa akin ng higante kung ano ang nais kong kainin.

Kaaya-aya naman ang higante. Malambot ang kanyang galaw at mahinahon ang kanyang boses. Hindi ko na lang tiningnan ang pangatlong ulo niya. Lagi kasi itong nakangiti at parang mayroong malisyoso na iniisip.

Binigyan ako ng higante ng malaking kamatis. Hiniwa niya ito na gamit ang kanyang matalis na kuko: sa loob ng kamatis ay kesong puti at hamon.

Sabi ko sa higanti, hindi ho ako kumakain ng karne.

Natawa sa akin ang higante.

Kahit sa panaginip vegetarian ka, sagot niya, pero sa dimensyon na ito maari mo siyang tikman dahil gawa yan sa isang sagradong baboy, na isinaalang-alang ang buhay nya para mabusog ka. Napakalaking kabastusan pag hindi mo siya kainin.

Linagay ko ang isang hiwa ng kamatis sa plato ko. Kakainin ko na sana ito nang may dumaan na isang libong pato. Tinakpan nila ang kalangitan, ang mga sabay-sabay na paghampas ng pakpak nila, naging napakalakas na hangin.

Lumanding sila sa hardin ng higante, at bigla na lang silang sumayaw.