In her dream, my mother wandered into a movie shoot with Tito Sotto.

While we were having brunch, my mother recounted to me a dream she had last night.

It was my sister’s wedding. (IRL, my sister got married two years ago.) She woke up late and everybody in the house has already left for the church. From the distance, she can hear the wedding march playing.

Panicking, she quickly got dressed but couldn’t find her bra. So she wore her dress without it. Already crying in panic, she also grabbed what she thought was a handkerchief. It was only after she left the house when she realized that it was one of my black tank tops.

Although she can hear the wedding march playing, the church itself was pretty far. Worse, there were no public vehicles passing. She had to walk all the way to the church while conscious of how her breast showed through her gown.

The first church she went into was empty; there was no wedding. The next church she arrived in was crowded with a wedding entourage. But it turned out to be because of a movie shoot and Tito Sotto was one of the actors.

Back on the road while looking for the right church, a man saw her and offered to drive her to the church. She was crying the entire time they were driving. The next church they saw was still not the right church. Finally, in her fourth attempt, she found the right church where my sister and the rest of the family was.

But the wedding was over. She did not even make it to the picture-taking. Still weeping, she finally woke up, with her chest heavy.

Ma and Pa during my sister's wedding.

Although she was laughing it off, it was a little painful to hear her tell me how she was panicking and weeping when she realized she might not make it to her daughter’s wedding. Because I can just picture it happening in real life. My mother often cannot deal with emergencies very well, and she will be running around while flustered. Or she will weep.

“Didn’t you remember that Maia (my sister) is already married?” I asked her, after she recounted her dream. It was a dream and she did not remember. And maybe the crushing despair took hold of her while she was helplessly walking, looking for the right church where her family was.

Dream, interrupted: A food market date.

So just now, I fell asleep while at work and I was dreaming I was on a date with this guy I like who works for a museum. We were on an open field like the Sunken Garden and there was a food market. We were deciding what to eat.

Just when the guy from the museum, in my dream, was able to decide which food he would be ordering, an agent woke me up for an urgent request.

Of course the agent could (and should) do that. But I was a little pissed for the interruption of a rather good dream.

The magic siopao dream.

Kawaii siopao, by Oooway

This was a dream I had yesterday afternoon. While walking along a street, I sent a tweet through my phone: I want siopao.

It was around dusk. The street had four lanes without an island, lined with what appeared to be pet shops. Ahead of me was an intersection to what looked like a rotonda. If it weren’t for the lack of island, the place reminded me of Boni Avenue intersecting with Maysilo Street (I could see a structure similar to Mandaluyong’s “Dambana ng mga Ala-ala” in front of me), but with the pet shops of Cartimar thrown in.

There weren’t that many people out walking, there were very few vehicles about. As soon as I sent the tweet, I looked ahead and there by the intersection passed a large car. When it passed, it left a large siopao in the middle of the street.

I ran towards the siopao, looked around if anyone else would pick it up, took it, then walked back to the sidewalk. The siopao was pretty big, with a shiny beige bun, unlike the typical white. It reminded me of the siopao sold in Mr. Poon’s along Quezon Avenue.

I didn’t get to know what the siopao tasted like. I woke up by then and thought, “wow, magic siopao!”

[Image: “Siopao (steam buns)” by Oooway on Flickr.]

This morning, I dreamt of meeting a woman.

I knew her, in that way you just know of how things are in a dream, as a classmate from high school. She did not look like my classmate in real life and she probably saw my disbelief. She acknowledged how she grew more attractive since high school.

“Especially after I got married,” she explained.

She was on the slim side, with a little post-childbirth fat. Her hair nearly reached her waist and her skin was a pleasant olive. She was wearing tank top and cut-off shorts. She looked like how women appeared in Tagalog bold movies. In hindsight, she probably was.

We were walking along some narrow, tree-lined alley, talking about how things are since we graduated from high school. We crossed a footbridge and came out in a small wet market.

Suddenly the dream switched to a different scene and the of us were in bed, having sex. Whoa. At that point, I woke up. I’ll spare my readers from the details; I don’t think I want to remember them myself.