The warm hues of dusk sets in as I breathe the salty air. In my hand was my brown passport, which remains unstamped since its acquisition. One foot was on the edge of a cliff, the other, dangling in mid-air waiting to be liberated to the sea 20 feet below. I had this inane idea that I could reach Morocco from here by cliff diving with my backpack.
Beside me was a faceless woman of the same age. “The only person standing in the way of your dreams is you. And whoever that is you let dictate how your fate should be”, she quipped.
This and other travel-filled dreams dominate my sleep for several nights in a row now. The other night, it was about four destinations in my itinerary, the only one I remember being Florida Keys. They were mapped out on a blue cardboard, one for each of the four directions. Florida in the west, the other three, I can’t quite remember now. The only time I’ve been to Florida was when I was writing an article on Marathon Airport five years back. Figuratively, so to say. In fact, I have never been anywhere outside the country.
Except for Iceland, Greenland, Kenya, Egypt, Galapagos Island and Socotra, I bear no great interest in traveling global destinations. I’ve always been a sucker for the Philippines. We have a smorgasbord of over 7,000 islands, what else is there to ask for?
Dreams for the most part, have been rather telling in my life. Three years prior to conception, I dreamed that my first born would be a girl. She was chasing my stepdad, her curly hair playing in the wind. Coincidentally, Lia has large curls, which neither genetic pool possesses. And she did meet my stepdad and they played on the beach before he passed away months later.
There are several deja vus too where I realize a particular moment has already occurred. The last being when I was eating breakfast and my husband was saying the egg was overcooked. I have had that exact dream before: same breakfast, same seat, same clothes, same words. If that ain’t creepy, I don’t know what that is.
So when I dream these dreams, I’m perplexed. Do I have some deep-seated lust for the farther outdoors, or are they telling me there’s a need for change?
While the saner, unsuperstitious side of me figures that out, this rings in my head:
“The only person standing in the way of your dreams is you.”
