Two dreams remain vivid in my head even after all these years. Once I dreamt that I was swimming through a very chaotic painting of grotesque people knotted to one another. The painting was grayscaled. I was finding a way to get out of the painting just like a sperm finding a way to meet its egg. I awoke when I did and went to my nanny and told her that I needed to get out of the house. In the middle of the night. I was so prepared to take the stairs when nanny tells me that I can't. The realization that it was just a silly children's nightmare snapped me back to reality. I went back to bed and tried not to continue the dream. Sometimes you do continue interrupted dreams, don't you?

Second dream, I was supposed to attend a party. However, I can't go until I finish cooking a mountainous pile of books. It really felt freaky while I was in that dream, cooking books, which just kept on increasing and increasing everytime I finished cooking one. Nakakatakot. Magluluto ka ba ng libro?

Then it hit me like a big yellow school bus, what if those dreams were about hell? They felt like hell. Have I been dreaming about hell since I was little? Will I be an Inluenza A virus subtype H1N1 carrier and die and go to hell afterwards? Will I undergo stuff like what Jessica Zafra wrote in 500 People You Meet in Hell?

I hope not. I want these farting butterflies in my stomach assassinated. Now.

Can I say shit? Shit.