Crazy is the Name of My Game

(19) Danger overload alert!

Erica Santos

 

The next thing I knew, I was no longer in the dreary hospital room.

I easily spotted colorful giant mushrooms on the thickly-covered forest floor, weaved thoroughly in between blades of grass and decaying wood. You know, like the ones in the game Mario? The red ones? With the spotted caps? Yeah, those were the ones I’m talking about, but they were of various colors. Blue, green, brown, yellow… I wonder if they're edible.

I cautiously turned around and to my surprise, Mr. Sun was blazing in his summer midday glory. My eyes adjusted after a while, but my other senses were still disoriented. It was as if I was in another place in another time.

Seeing the lush green carpet surrounding me, the huge tropical trees standing proud and tall and the gentle rising slopes of the abundant land, I knew at once that I was dreaming.

I was home, and it was all a dream.

This was where I grew up, among nature in the Pearl of the Orient, away from the city and its all-consuming noise. Peace and tranquility held their throne, and watching the slow-moving clouds scattered in the deep blue sky, it was paradise.

A lost paradise.

In this dream, I once again walked the familiar scenery, running my fingers against the shrubs and the bushes, against the rough barks and the soft but waist-high cogon grasses. There was the caressing wind blowing against my face. There were angry chatters from the abundant life around me, birds, rodents, macaques, you name it, and they are here. The noise was nostalgic. It was as if nothing happened. It was normal. Too normal.

I felt a pang of hurt as I traversed my dreamland.

This was my home.

This used to be my home.

From behind me, I heard a noise that sent me hiding behind the trees. My heart was hammering in my chest. I could hear a voice, a distinct feminine voice not far from me. From the sound of it, she was approaching. Fast. Before I realized what I was doing, I was already halfway above the ground, my hand reaching for the sturdy branch in front of me. Frantically, I pulled myself up and took comfort among the green canopy of the tall tree. I hugged myself, afraid of looking down.

Who else could be in my dream? And heck, why am I hiding? Double heck, why on a tree?! I hate heights!

Then, the tall cogon grasses parted.

A hunter came out.

I almost lost my balance.

With ebony black hair braided over one side and rich brown skin, the young woman was a beautiful exotic figure of stealth and speed. She wore clothes made out of animal hide and corn silk, her bow and arrow probably from water buffalo horns. There were tattoos on her left arm, intricately covering the part of her not clothed. Half of her lovely face was smeared with what seemed like blue paint.

For some reason, she was familiar… but that couldn’t be, right?

She stopped a few feet away from me, giving me a chance to study her features. The hairs on my arms had risen with dread and anticipation.

Wild.

Wary.

Deadly.

Waiting and watching with the dark eyes of a predator.

This dream felt real. Too real, it was terrifying. I wonder if she was something I made out from nothing. Or was she someone I met before?

And then she was running again.