The Girl of Two Worlds

Where Dreams Start

Blackness. Utter, complete blackness. A blackness so deep and never-ending, you could drown in it. I wonder what it would feel like to just let yourself go and fall?

We need you.

Oh. It's this voice again.

The time has come. The land is torn and the people are crying; the trees wither and the wind has forgotten how to sing. We are dying and hungry for hope, a hope we've waited to save us for the last sixteen years. The world cannot wait any longer. It is time, my Bathala. You must remember. Your duty. Your purpose.

Ouch... my head... Fricking duty, fricking purpose, I have no idea what this voice is talking about. Fricking dream, fricking voice, fricking...

You MUST remember. The time has come. We have precious time left, and risking any more would lead us closer to tragedy.

It hurts. It hurts. My head... it hurts!

It is time to call you back.

Amihan sat up in a jolt, her heart pounding wildly against her chest, and her head throbbing a pain that had magnified since the last time she heard that deep voice two days ago. She gasped and winced as the pain gave out a weird, uncomfortable vibration deep inside her mind, as if invading her very thoughts and nerves, looking for spaces that it haven't yet filled.

Amihan sighed, her shoulders sagging. It was that dream again. For the past three weeks, she had had recurring dreams of unfamiliar voices calling out to her for help, telling her of strange things in an urgent manner. It left her gasping for breath every time it ended and she went back to the real world. It visited her three to four times a week, unnaturally frequent for a dream that kept repeating itself.

At first, it was a bit odd, but she had welcomed it; ever since she could remember, she never had dreams. Not a single one. Most people would dream about falling into some abyss, about the lessons they studied the night before, or about vampires and werewolves and other what-have-you, but never Amihan. Whenever she went to sleep, she would only see blackness and then she would wake up to the chickens' morning calls, another day gone by like routine. So when she finally had her first dream three weeks ago, she was ecstatic. She had thought she'd finally see what her mind had been missing out on for the past seventeen years. Would she dream about robots like the one she saw on TV at her neighbor's house? Or would she dream about the United States of America, that grand, far-away place that boasted of luxuries her mind couldn't comprehend? Or perhaps it would take her to a new world altogether, a place created by her imagination?

But then, the very same dream just kept on repeating. The same voice. The same message. And then the pain started shortly after. A weak, dull throb at first, and after another week, it escalated into an annoying migraine that would linger for fiteen minutes or more. Then it became an annoying headache that oftentimes left her leaning on walls for support. Now, the pain was so unbearable, it felt like her skull was being drilled open.

She shuddered at the image.

There were nights where the voice didn't visit her, and those nights were always a relief. Just pure blackness where she could simply let herself go and fall. But the dream was unpredictable. She never knew when it would hit. She dreaded going to sleep, dreaded at the notion the voice would talk to her again and trigger another headache. She knew there were medicine for that, but medicine was expensive.

Her family already had enough bills and things to pay for. Why should they shoulder that burden for her, too? And so, she would endure.

She had gotten weaker because of it. Her best friends have already become curious as to why she would show up sighing and drooping at their daily hangouts at Mrs. Reyes' sari-sari* store. And every time, she would just smile at them and tell them there was nothing to worry about.