Three nights, three different dreams.

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I dreamt of a baked chestnut peddlar. The first of his kind in this tropical country. I met him on the corner of a street somewhere in Pulomas area. The area I frequently walked through as a grade schooler. A place previously occupied by the rich with houses that looked as if trying to compete each other in size and in shape, one after the other. But now this area has been partly abandoned by the anual floods that come because of some greedy official selling off the water reception land and allowing an apartment to be built upon it. An apartment that hardly has any residents except for ghosts and misguided spirits.

The chestnut peddlar was already famous. But stil he preferred selling his chestnuts on that specific corner, beneath an ornamental palm tree. He was proud of his profession, he would answer any question but refused to share where he got the chestnuts.

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I intentionally watched a drama featuring Ayano Go before going to bed. A trick to be able to meet him in my dreams. A trick that never actually worked before. But to my surprise, worked this time.

We were on a bus. He was sitting in front of me with another Japanese actress. We were a group of six, going somewhere. Engaged in a conversation I can’t recall what it was about. I felt I was in a daze just having him in such close counters. Haha.

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A wedding. A white wedding. The bride and groom and their parents were wearing white tinted with turqoise. Then a little boy, wearing a white shirt, black bow tie and black trousers kept fooling around in front of the camera as I was trying to take a commemoration photograph of the newlyweds.

The little boy was pulling off such hilarious poses, my lense focus averted to him. Making the bride and groom as his background.

The little boy had curly hair, fair skin and a huge grin. He was about three.

And I was secretly hoping that he was a part of me.