Brain Rape

In the dream, I was headed to a video shoot. I knew it was a dream right away because how on earth would I be carrying Angel Locsin, playing the part of an angel with cheap crepe paper wings, while she, supposedly, tried to save Richard Guttierez from an inevitable career plunge? I was certain that it was a dream because I was carrying Angel but at the same time I was operating the camera and going for a crane shot--how else can I be in two places at once? I played along because dreams are not real anyway. Not unless it becomes too familiar; then you know it's time to wake up.

The shoot ended in a wrap party. Every one of my friends were there. I was so happy. So ecstatic, in fact,that even if they closed me off from the party in some producer's house, I walked home alone but literally jumping for joy. I realized later when I woke up that I dreamt this part because of a recent comment I made in Gypy's blog about having a job you love.

Then, as I was walking gleefully along the dark streets of Qatar (my only clue were the lightning fast cars on the road), a car chase straight from Grand Theft Auto ensued. Up ahead, an SUV flattened a dozen lamp posts before it crashed on an island.

The driver, dressed in black, got out of the vehicle and walked towards my direction. I sensed his ill intentions so I hid behind a palm tree that obviously only covered half my body. The guy in black approached me and pointed a gun at me (this is what I get from watching Zodiac the other night). I only got to plead twice before he shot me on my chest. I got angry and promised that I won't let him get away with it.

To my surprise, he chopped my head off and put it in a box then he went to a cargo truck which was loaded with the same box he was carrying. I followed him in spirit, meaning to scare him off with my ghost. When I tried to reach for him I found out that I wasn't following him as a spirit at all but as a headless body!

That was the time I woke up. With a smile. And the first relevant thing I saw was a pile of textbooks on my bedside table. Some Qatari student had asked me to do his research work. Although he's paying for it, I still can't help but feel a bit brain raped.

The metaphor was too clear to be dismissed. Believe me, there's a thin line between dreams and reality.