Dreaming with my Eyes Open

Bewildered. That was the accurate emotion I felt the exact moment I woke up, surroundings all dim. I glanced at the wall clock and saw that it was 3 AM. Suddenly, I felt my eyes getting hot.

‘Oh, so I’m about to cry,’ I thought as a tear fell from my right eye and another one fell from the opposite side.

I sobbed continuously when I remembered my dream. I tried to wake my siblings but they wouldn’t; they’d only kick me. As I sobbed helplessly, I sniffed a certain scent even with my snot running down from my nostrils. It was a scent I could never forget up to this moment in time. Fresh flowers.

Suddenly, I heard murmurs outside. It was 3 in the morning. Who would be awake at this ungodly hour aside from me? It seemed like a group of people were gossiping about something kids shouldn’t hear. I was curious, but I told myself to behave and try to sleep again. I tried to but I couldn’t. That dream… no, nightmare haunts me up to now. I couldn’t shake off the chills and my tears.

“You should go wake the kids up and tell them all about it,” I overheard a lady speak, and I’m pretty sure it’s the voice of Aunt Lyn. I heard Uncle Jessie agreeing with his wife. A big question began running in my head relentlessly. Why are my relatives outside of the kitchen by this time of the day? Another folow-up question sprung up. What should that someone tell us?

As more questions buzzed in my head, I remembered my dream. Again. The sobbing that I did in my nightmare was the exact sobbing I did that moment. I can’t help but feel frustrated as I waited for someone to open the door and elucidate what in the world was happening. I glared and stared at the door whilst I helplessly wept and wiped away my snot. I halted from crying as silence from the outside answered all my questions.

Finally, the door opened and revealed guess who? My mother. Our room is dimly lit, but I was pretty sure she seemed emotionless and bewildered like me. As I looked into her eyes, it dawned on me that an emotion was kept beneath her eyes. Something I couldn’t decipher despite all the stares I threw her. She then started sniffing as she opened the lights and sluggishly made her way to our bed, confirming that something was actually wrong.

I started recalling all the times that she has cried in my 14 years of existence. I can only recollect two memories — first one with the whole family bawling because we were about to become a broken family back then, and second one when I saw her shedding a tear because of the show she watched on the television about a child reuniting with her mother. It’s because she misses her lost mother so much, and she has dedicated decades just to find her mother with no such luck.

Tears welled up in my eyes while I quietly asked, “What’s wrong, Ma?”

She didn’t answer and proceeded to waking up both of my siblings who were deep in their slumber. When they saw that it was mother waking them up and she was crying, they immediately sat still.

“Mama, why are you crying?” my first sibling who was 2 years younger than me queried worriedly.

“Did something wrong happen?” my youngest and most hushed sibling was next to inquire. It basically came as a surprise to me to see her crying right when she just woke up since among all of us, she was the strongest one, one who doesn’t cry easily.

Mother’s whimper turned into sobbing. There’s definitely something wrong. I pleaded her with my eyes to go and spill the beans. It took her a minute or so but then she still went on with telling us.

“He’s gone.”

Astonishment and gloom filled our hearts as we did a group hug and sobbed together.

He’s gone.

My father passed away. It’s a depressing dream come true.