I can’t remember when I started having strange dreams.
And when I say strange, it’s not the usual flying and falling out of nowhere, or having heated conversations with my sister, or my mom.
It’s seeing people I haven’t even met, or being in a place I can’t be in, or won’t be in. Shouldn’t be in. Like, what was I doing in our house in the province, of all places? And why was I running as if I was being chased by an aswang? (A shape-shifting creature of the dark) At least, it would make sense if I’d been into horror movies even once in my life. But I hadn’t.
Of all the strange dreams (or nightmares) I could remember, there was one that struck me the most. It wasn’t the bizarreness of it that made it special, but its plainness that made it easy for me to remember.
