I had two interesting dreams last night:
The first one had me existing as one of those anthromorphic bears in a bear world where a bunch of them are chained on one foot to an island that rises and falls depending on whose turn it was to hear a message (sort of like a literal captured audience thing). I dared to be different and refused to be chained like the others and somehow I knew that I was also the best swimming bear around the place. Swimming from one island to the next while the rest of those bears on the edges of the island could only watch. A preacher was preaching to the bears about salvation and while I was standing around the island that rose up, I noticed a bear in the distance was stumbling in the dark. At least it looked as if he was stumbling in the dark, or maybe he was just drunk. As he walked up towards the gate trying to feel his way, he tripped quite loudly which got the attention of most of the bears listening. A spottled black and white Great Dane came out of the gate walking on its hind legs and told off the bumbling bear for creating such a racket before pushing him in and closing the gate behind him.
The dream was cut off in the middle when my sister called me on the cellphone asking me to open the door because she was locked out of the house by mistake. I looked at the clock on my way back to bed and saw that it was 2:30 a.m. I tried to back to sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, wanting to continue the dream. It took some time (a couple of turns on the bed)
before I finally got to sleep and the second dream played in my head:
The second dream had me and soome four other actors acting out a scene from a movie. I forgot who the other actors and actresses were (there three of the former and two of the latter) although I could still distinctly recall that one of them was Samuel L. Jackson. We were travelling on EDSA inside a car cramped with so many passengers, complete strangers who got stranded on the way home. We were picked up by somebody and to relieve the uncomfortable silence, the driver asked us to introduce ourselves. Not wanting to give out my real name, I said my name was "John" (an english translation of my second name). The one beside me asked me, "Only John?" I said "Jon Cash." That settled the name for the character it seems, that my reel name was John Moolah. Don't ask. I forgot why I wrote the name down on paper, but I th ink it was to clear up the confusion. I scribbled, "John 'Cash' Moolah" and handed it to the one beside me. The handwriting, it seemed wasn't that clear to him as he read it, "John 'Adams' Moolah?" I had to explain to him that it was "Cash" not "Adams". While we were talking, Samuel Jackson pulled out a knife and announced that he was highjacking the car. By that time we were passing by Pasig River and we saw a big commotion happening out there because the government has drain out the whole thing and big construction equipments were dredging the muddy bottom (mostly sandy bottom) and hauling out ancient tribal mummies. These mummies looked blackened and very withered and the thought occurred to me that these were the bodies of people who committed suicide and/or those who drowned accidently in the murky waters of the river. The highjacking was forgotten and we stopped the car a little further down the road just after passing the river. I went down to the other side and watched the big tractors drudge the whole thing. Then another thought came to mind that my reel whole name was John Wisemoolah, something like the famous Tarzan actor (don't really ask). That's when I connected the fact to my first dream (that I was a really good swimmer) to the second one. The fact that I was able to consciously think about this while thinking it was all so normal is beyond me. Then I went back to the other side near where we parked the car where an undeveloped land full of banana trees and wild grass were still growing (this was a reference to the time I was a kid before the area was developed into a restaurant cum cafe). Again seeming so natural, I immediately knew that this was the area where Revolutionary Hero, Gregorio Del Pilar, was killed in an ambush and a crude shrine was erected over his exposed bones still on the ground. Putting the matter of the dredged mummies and Del Pilar's bones was a bit too much, I crossed to the other side where the Guadaluper Commercial Center's standing and met up with the others who got into the craze of the dredged mummies that they were lugging handfuls of shopping bags full of souvenirs (the event apparently sparked a trend). I remember they were all smiles as they exchanged stories about the wonderful things that they found.
That's the last thing I remembered.