I have been dreaming of waves for several nights now. When I wake up from these dreams, I try to make sense of the color and form of the waves. Are the waves coming from the dark deep part of the ocean? Are they breaking recklessly against the crags? Are they the silent froth emanating from a calm, green, peaceful water?
What is it in my family and birthplace that a dream of waves are not merely memories of a dreamy summer, of a day on the beach, or childhood. Waves, which by reckoning are always disturbance upon the sea or ocean, are seen as ominous of death in the family. My grandmothers are the keepers of this interpretation.
Waves, however, are not the only elements of nature that should bother the dreamer. In some families, a dream of meat does not augur feasting, nor does it indicate something culinary. Meat, as dreamt, is supposed to be a harbinger of doomsday and death, again.
Some years ago, a female friend of mine came to me distraught. Something was bothering her. She thought I could help her best. I told her I am not into dreams.
The reason she approached me was that I was doing a postgraduate course in Anthropology. But, anthropologists do not do dream analysis, I countered. The closest we are to dreams, with my tone getting desperate, is when we ask culture groups their equivalent
of “dreaming”.
My friend was persistent. I decided to bring her to a priest who was famous for his foray into parapsychology.
In the priest’s office, my friend spilled out more details. Her dreams had something to do with her boss. The dreams predicted the health condition of her boss. When she dreamt of her boss and her smoking, she would find out the next day, the wife of her boss had asthma attacks. When she dreamt, however, of meat and blood, her boss would call in very sick.
The old priest looked at my friend very intently as she spoke of her anxiety. She was blaming herself for the afflictions that fell upon her boss. Then the priest took out a deck of cards and asked my friend to shuffle it. He held the cards and encouraged my friend to feel the card at the bottom and guess its color. My friend could see darkness and so she guessed it was black. The card was, indeed, a black clover when it was turned out. I could see my friend in tears. The priest held the cards again and asked my friend to sense the card at the top. My friend said she could feel a throbbing and a blood. It must be a heart. When the card was shown to her and it turned out to be a red, Heart, Ace, my friend burst into tears.
The priest smiled and looked at my friend and, in a very slow voice, told her: “You are not causing the disease of your boss. You are able to predict it.” “What should I do?” my friend asked. The priest looked down and said: “Do not be afraid. It is a gift. Instead of fear, you should have joy in your heart. You ask me what you should do? Go to Quiapo and be a good soothsayer.”
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Image credits: Jimbo Albano