of fears and dreams

I've dreamt about death for two consecutive nights now. And it's not MY death or someone else I know. It's about a child dying. :( I don't know who that child is or exactly how young s/he is but obviously, young enough to be sleeping in a cradle.

One glaring image from both dreams is a cradle all strangled up with sort of like spider webs around it. In my dreams I never cried, but in both occasions I woke up with enormous pang of pain.

I wish it stops tonight. It's bugging.

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I fear that because this place is one of the most child-unfriendly and unhealthy environment, Giann would grow up to be like all the other kids here. You should come visit so you know what I'm talking about - they're in streets all day, playing without slippers on, and their feet look like they haven't washed for weeks, they hurt each other with their parents all amused and even coerce them to fight even more! Or I'm afraid Giann would end up adapting their "kanto" language. Bunganga is NOT Tagalog for mouth, friggin stupids.

I'm also afraid that my second child would not be as beautiful as I am surrounded by ugly people. Call me shallow but I worry about that far too much. The maids, their children, everyone here is ugly with only Pau, Giann and myself as exceptions! And when I say ugly I don't mean just physical ugliness - it's EVERY ASPECT kind of ugliness. Even this place is ugly.

I'd rather be conceiving my baby and raising Giann somewhere nicer. To live in our condo would be grand and what I really want in the first place but I've already scratched that option the night I was sent back here.

But you should know how sophisticated and learned and elegant and smart my shobe and EJ speak and act. Would put every person in this place to shame.

Now I am really really hoping high quality education would help me raise beautiful and smart children as this environment will never ever be able to.

xoxo

and i don't know what to feel

I used to dream almost every night - in full colour. My dreams were so vivid I could mistake they're real (if only I didn't know better). I knew the face so well - memorised its features like my own. I recognised the deep voice so well - heard it so clearly as if it's amplified by digital surround sound. I felt every touch, savoured every smile, recorded every laugh. I knew all the details - I held on to them like dear life.

Last night I dreamt again. But unlike before, this time the face was a blur - almost covered by blinding white light - distorted. I could see a smile, I could feel a touch. But they felt cold and unreal. They felt like pigments of, well, a dream. For the first time in years, they felt like what they REALLY are - mirage. The face I knew so well turned into someone unfamiliar - it has change in ways I cannot grasp, cannot pinpoint.

Like the four-line poetry, the blue card, the doodles, the songs and the funny images on camera - I still remember them. But not as perfectly as I did before. They are like the roses I tried to preserve by keeping in between pages of thick books. I preserved them, yeah but they still withered.

Maybe if I let you wither, all else will die and no longer haunt me.

xoxo