Living in the dark

So how is it like living in a room with the lights busted? For the past three weeks, I'd come home to a room with no decent lights. I have to depend on this small bedside lamp which is small enough to be WALL-E's companion (although EVE might get jealous, you know.). My step mom told me to bring the emergency lamp in my room too so I can use it. So I use the emergency lamp in the toilet because I have no lights in the toilet too.

I was busy watching/writing stuff on my laptop one very very early morning (like 3 am) when I heard a thud coming from the ceiling. Then my bedroom lights went out abruptly. I knew the power was not out because I plugged my laptop to the electrical outlet and it was still on. But then it will not actually shut down just like that because the battery is still OK so that statement is useless, ugh. I just knew the power was not out because I could turn on my bedside lamp and my electric fan is still working. So I figured my lights probably must have had short-circuited or something. (I was bad at Technology and Home Economics back in the day so "something" was all I could say.) I was lazy to get up from bed and check my light switches and stuff and even if I wanted to ask anyone in the house about it, they were all asleep. So uhm, yeah.

After sleeping for a few hours, I checked the switches and all, and yes, my hunch was true, something in my room got electric-f*cked. My father was not home for a week or so because he was busy back in the province so I had to wait for him so he can check what happened.

I would probably be very pissed every night had my schedule been a normal one, you know, like, go to work in the morning, then come home for dinner? Instead, I wake up at almost lunch time when the sun is already way up there, then go home very late. I don't need lights that much, except when I'm reading but still, the stuff I can do in my room is pretty limited. I can cope with it though because I mean, hello, it's my room. I can walk around even with my eyes closed.

I had a nightmare the other day. In my dream my step mom and siblings were trying to contact me. Eventually they found me and had to deliver some bad news. It was weird that they had to gather like that when you normally only need 1 person to tell you news or gossip, whichever. I could see my brother trying hard not to cry. I had this gut feeling already that what they were about to tell me was really bad. I was thinking of possible awful things that they could reveal to me and I'm quite a pessimist so I couldn't wait for them any longer. I just said it, "Daddy is dead, right?" And they nodded.

I looked away from them, trying to digest the fact that my dad was dead. (Knock on wood!) I don't know if I'd be able to describe to you what I felt that time, but it's the same feeling I have when I have to deal with failure, but much more complicated. I wanted to blame myself for not having control over things, which is actually one of my fears, that just like that my life was about to change without my consent. But a part of me has already accepted the death of my father so quickly, like bread soaked in a cup of coffee, and was telling me to think pragmatically because my family could only cry at the moment. And it felt like I knew what to do because I've seen many movies of people losing their family members, like I knew so much just by watching, yet I could not believe it was finally happening to me; that I've become a character in those types of movies. But another part of me is saying that it wasn't as simple as that, that it would not be cinematically as beautiful, for in the movies, scenes are crafted to preserve the beauty within the frames of time, while death so personal is an uninvited presence who you would not like to sign in your guest book of experiences, but guess what, it will be at the last entry. There is no dramatic background music to accompany the punch lines, no closeups to emphasize the facial expressions of distraught and no panning to capture your restless walks. Simply put, death just bitch slaps you on the spot and leaves pain marks of helplessness on your face.

Did I make sense?

Do you know that other feeling when you are in a dream but you know that the dream is not true because the images are fuzzy and there's too much freedom in your movement? I also had that feeling during that nightmare. However when I woke up, I had to cry because the images were false but the emotions were true. According to a superstition, you have to tell people about the nightmare if it's about death probably to break the continuity from dreams to real life. I guess that makes sense because the more you share the story, the more you get familiar with the details so sooner or later, it would feel ridiculous. But that's just me. So I did tell my step mom and siblings about it (the same people who were in my dream) and my step mom prompted me to reach for my cellphone so we could talk to my dad. He was fine. He was actually eating by the time we were able to contact him. My step mom wanted to pass the phone to me so I could talk to my dad but I felt embarrassed and could not breathe very well because I was still crying so she laughed at me a bit. See??? My theory about that superstition is true after all. It WAS ridiculous, me bawling over some dream. Gawd.

So obviously, living in the dark is a much more familiar territory than death. I didn't even budge when my lights went out! One thing is for sure for both cases though: I need my dad. Belated Happy Father's Day, Pop.

tags: dark  room  lamp  dream  nightmare  death  dad  cinema  movies  

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