I’ve been going through another mental and emotional crisis since Monday, May 25. Then, three days after, after getting stuck in the exhausting loop, my brain decided to take a break and release two absurd dreams.
Chapter I: Being with a Grieving Man
One bright afternoon, I was walking around the National Museum of National History. There was a pictorial for the organization my Younger Brother is a member of, all the men were wearing the Filipino formal wear, the barong tagalog. My brother approached me and asked if I could assist someone who’s been grieving since last night. The man has a face similar to a controversial figure, and he just lost his wife. I’m also grieving, so I have no idea how to comfort him, but since my brother asked me politely, I relented and went near the broken man. I patted his shoulder without saying a word.
After that, the grieving man and I went to the top of the museum. He stood at the center, and I saw a sleek Canon DSLR camera attached to the tallest tripod I have ever seen. From afar, my Younger Brother and the rest of the organization made a totem pole of themselves, and they all shouted, “We love you, chairman!” That’s when I found out that the crying man is their chairman, and he tried his very best to flash a smile while tears continued to stream from his squinty eyes. After a few takes, we all jumped from the left side and into a large foam, bouncing like children. I’m not smiling about it, but they were.
Chapter II: Old Friends & Special Guests
I was walking around an unnamed yet familiar-looking pop culture convention with grey walls, stalls selling action figures and stickers, and cosplayers proudly living the characters they portrayed. And then I saw a familiar group of people who were my friends from college. Were.
I can only look from afar because I’m unsure of how they would react if I even say a single hello. Honestly, I do want to say hello, but I’m still having a tough time, so I don’t want further drama to contribute to that exhausting loop. However, I do feel over the moon seeing them having a good time, even from afar.
When I turned to the left, I suddenly saw one of my legendary musical heroes: Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails, wearing his signature all-black outfit, staring menacingly at my old friends. I have no idea why Mr. Reznor looked extremely annoyed at them and why he was at a pop con in the first place.
And when I looked from the back, I saw the main stage, and the screen showed a very important announcement: a new biographical film about another legendary music hero of mine, Prince. And who’s starring? Prince himself, who returned from the dead to shoot the entire movie, with this same look from his Purple Rain era.
And then I woke up from one of my most absurd dreams ever.
Maybe my mind was telling me to take a break from processing and reliving the incredible hurt from a few weeks ago; therefore, the double-feature absurd dreams. Did I laugh about it? Hell no, but I can’t deny the distraction because of the absurdity my brain delivered. Notably, Trent Reznor in a sea of cosplayers? What the fuck was that?
The Diary of The Deranged Writer 