Dreams*

I think a lot. I could lie in bed for hours without sleeping a wink, just letting my thoughts roam elsewhere.

At first I think of the things that need to be done. I'd toss and turn in my bed, and in the end the obsessive-compulsive in me wins and I get up, make a to-do list before I'd finally get a good night's (or morning's) sleep.

Sometimes panic overcomes me and I worry for several moments. But worrying is one of the things I hate to do, so I usually end up saying "To hell with it," or the perpetual "Bahala na," and close my eyes and pretend to sleep.

Other times I think of stories, of fiction I have long extracted from the recesses of my mind. I try to find ways to make the plot flow, or tweak it here and there until I have successfully twisted it the way I wanted to. Most of the time I just give up — it's just my way of unwinding, of escaping, to keep my mind off things. Darker things. Things I didn't want to be bothered with before I go to sleep, things I was afraid would give me nightmares if I dwelled on them long enough.

Perhaps you could call it cowardice on my part. Or maybe I was just feeling out of touch, or mayhap floating a bit. The thing is, everything I believed in, everything I continue to fight for, has somewhat become an abstraction recently, that I'm feeling the need to connect with reality again. And yes, I'm beginning to fear the frustration, the feeling of entrapment, the lack of practice that should come with the theory. And as such, I don't dwell on things I don't see, avoid analyzing things beyond my realm.

And I hate myself for it.

I understand what I am doing — at least for the most part. But I don't think that's enough. I fear that one day I would revert to my old self; the dreamer who couldn't do anything, the pretend-realist who was out of touch with herself.

Maybe it's the reason why I don't dream anymore. No fairy tale romances, no dream job, no prospects for the future.

I only have a year to go before I officially leave the academe, and still, I continue trudging on with uncertainty. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing in my course, except for the fact that I don’t know what other course I could have taken, and the fact that I like to finish what I started. My relationship with my major is pretty much a messy mix of love-hate. Some parts I really like doing and some subjects I think are worth taking, while others I’d rather do without and are practically useless in my viewpoint.

One year to go and I still don't know where I'm going to work, or if I'd even be able to practice my profession in the future. I do know that someday I might get around to getting another degree (or not), because I’d really like to teach. But other than that, everything else is abstract.

I'm putting off a lot of things, thinking that one year is long enough to figure things out. I refuse to think in the long-term, trying only to solve the here and now before moving on to other concerns.

I say I don't dream anymore. But the truth is that I just refuse to realize the dreams that have pervaded my thoughts now in exchange of fairy tales and high-paying jobs. While I already know and accept that I probably won't end up working in some high-profile media company, that I just might never experience having a large salary, I still could not make peace with the person I have become.

For all the firmness of my beliefs, and for all the waking hours I spent in thinking and enacting these beliefs, I couldn't overcome certain contradictions in my life. So I surmise I still have a lot to learn.

I know that someday, all these decisions I couldn't make would someday crash down on me. And it would be my fault. Before the deadline comes, I hope to finally see where I'm headed. And I hope, by that time, my dreams will become clear, and that I would be able to enact on them.

*The first draft of my column which appeared on the Philippine Collegian issue number 23.