Dream Diary: High Chairs

Last night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept tossing, turning and whining. Blamed it on my coffee even if I do drink coffee to sleep because I’m a coffee junkie— it exists as my upper and my sleeping pill.

I always have vivid dreams, dreams that I could still remember even when I wake up. I fell asleep at midnight and I dreamed that I was going to take an exam wearing my maroon scrub suit. The place for the exam was a football field with high chairs—very high chairs, about 20 feet tall, as tall as the lamps that lit the field. I had to climb a ladder to sit on the chair. It was so weird because the chairs were tall but they were light enough that we even arranged it ourselves, lifting it across the field and arranging them in rows. I never got to the part when I would climb up and sit on the chair, I was on the verge of climbing the first step on the ladder when my alarm brought me back to the world; I woke up even before I got the chance to know what the exam was about. Hah.

I really don’t know what it means but I think it’s worth recording. I fell asleep indeed but I was struggling to get up on that high chair in my dream.


Day 1 0f 100 Happy Days

Day 1 0f 100 Happy Days

Day 1: Unexpected thank-you gifts from my patients at the hospital: cookies, cologne and cavity protection 😀 They think they should be thankful, but I am more thankful to them more than they’ll ever know.

Daily Prompt: A to Z

sunset_by_onlyphotoAnother day

Breaking into a



Empty ache


Goodbye,good night

Hello whenever

Immortal photographs in my head

Jagged conversations

Kaleidoscopic visions

Lingering smell of stale coffee in my

Melancholic cup

Nudging sleep, teasing the darkness

Onslaught of bad dreams

Perfect fantasies

Quiet releases

Resounding whispers of that

Summer solstice




Walking towards the

Xylophone sounds

Yellow butterflies and

Zigzag dreams

*Inspired by this 🙂

Weekly Photo Challenge: Nostalgic


My older brother and I, circa 1984

My big brother and I were born just 1 year apart. We grew up in a rural town in the Philippines. Our childhood in our hometown was as simple as being perfect. We were happy growing up with loads of playmates and infinite playing space — from the fields to the mountains and the long sandy beaches.


Riyadh, KSA, circa 1988

This was taken in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia in 1988; we moved away from our hometown in 1986 when our parents had to work in an entirely different country. It would have been a traumatic experience having to leave old friends and playmates…but having my brother around all the time made all the difference 🙂

This was inspired by the weekly photo challenge and a tribute to my brother on his birthday 🙂

I love you big brother! 😀

Children of the Rain


photo  from here

It’s  June in the year 1990, I was 7 years old then.

A gust of cold wind hit my face and  I saw through my window the confluence of  gray, angry clouds hovering like giant cotton balls in the sky. Then comes what I have been waiting for —- a downpour  of  pitter-patter on our iron roof which draws a smile on my face. I am joyously happy when it rains. Rain is not an excuse to stay in, it’s the perfect time for me and my brother to go out and play with the rain gods.  And the Hawaiian frogs in our garden are vocalizing so loudly as if summoning us to celebrate this gloriously wet afternoon, inviting our itchy feet to play on the puddles and calling us to shake the rain-kissed branches of the hibiscus in our garden.

My brother and I have been waiting  for this day, the first rain of June . We haven’t seen rain this generous for a long time since we lived for 2 years in a place where sandstorms and hailstorms never gave us a reason to play outside safely.

Rain is more friendly, we believe so.  Days like this are priceless, it’s not everyday that you can take a bath in the biggest shower room created for a moment by mother nature. I say a silent thank you to my parents that we came home to this country where almost half of the year  is purely a season of rain and unwelcome typhoons.

Oh how we love rain! Rain that soaks us and creates all sorts of puddles —big, small, deep and  shallow. There’s all sorts of  muddy puddles where I can sink and stomp my feet in and the crystal clear  puddles on the road where I can see my  Philippines-to-Timbuktu smile staring  back at me. The rain washes away my old childhood longing of the Philippines and fills my thirst for the 2 years I missed doing things like this.  I close my eyes and lift my head to feel the drops of rain on my face.  The songs of the  frogs continue all afternoon — we share their joy as rain creates a whole new playground for us without the sun to spoil it. We played games, hugged trees, smelled the flowers and as a final reverence to the rain, I stick out my tongue to taste a few drops of rain— i take it as a kiss from heaven. As my brother and I race to the shower room, we look back and send all gratitude and love to the beginning of the rainy season, as it blesses the ground and everything it touches including us —  children of the rain as we call ourselves.

Yes, we are indeed children of the rain.

After we shower , we dry out and head to our dining table to join the rest of the family.  Our grandmother then hands everyone  hot mugs filled with her  homemade dark chocolate made of pure cacao tablets and we gather around  as the rain pours in the background of family chatter and the amphibian melody goes on all night. One sip of  the hot chocolate and the love  just goes straight to warm our hands and bring solitude to our young energetic souls. It warms our hearts which were soaked already with happiness from the rain but with  plenty of room to receive  the boundless gift of freedom that only  childhood can impart.

A dance in the rain, a chorus with the frogs, capped with hot chocolate shared with the love of family — that to me is the perfect rainy afternoon of my childhood.

This memory was inspired by this