For Ali And Iris

On this Mother's Day, I bring you flowers of May from our garden.

Rain-kissed peony, iris, rhododendron

It turns out great daughters also make great Moms.

Who needs superheroes when there are Moms like you?

Hoping YOU

would have an awesome day!

My Dream And Mum

Dreams

 Dreams are today’s answers to tomorrow’s questions. - Edgar Cayce

Haven't gotten any responses from you on your dreams! There's still time.

*****

Now, on the topic at hand - that of dreams that helped to resolve a problem.

I had one that involved my Mum whom I remember this Mother's Day. 

You may remember me talking about siesta as my favorite time of the day. While my brothers would sleep, I'd stay awake and sit by my Mum who would be sewing or darning clothes.

You may also recall me saying that Mum always took this time to recite a litany of reminders about good manners and her myths on food and drink. Bitter melon is the secret to beauty. You won't grow tall if you drink too much coffee.

Voicelessly, I was saying, Yeah, yeah, yeah.

That one afternoon, though, she was unusually thoughtful. Peering from the pages of the komiks I was reading, I could see her furrowed brows. Her hands had slid up to her face. As she smoothed non-existent strands of hair off her forehead, she started talking about the Llenado property. I didn't understand why, but the fact was it was being claimed back by a certain Senor Pepillo.  

I was nonchalant at first until I realized that was where Lolo Gorio's and our home were situated. Mum was worried. We'd have to move out. But where to?

That night, I had a dream.

Mum and I were wandering the streets, seemingly without purpose or destination. After making the round of the neighborhood, I pointed something out to her.

'Mie! Right there. That's where we can move out to.

As we walked closer to the place, we discovered it was the same exact location where our house was situated.

As I recounted my dream, I remembered Mum looking at me as if I'd just told her about the formula for a secret rocket fuel. She breathed loud, the air coming out of her nose like wind. 

Then she hugged me.

Immediately, we got dressed and she dragged me along to Senor Pepillo's office where she pleaded for him to divide the huge property and allow us to buy the area where our house currently stood. She spoke earnestly, holding his eyes with hers to convince him of her sincerity and her interest.

I was quiet, holding my own breath. At the time, it seemed like it was just my Mum and I against the rest of the world.

Senor Pepillo remained settled in his chair, the lines in his cheeks deepening. He looked deep in thought. Then he smiled. He thrust out a hand, his handshake emphatic.

Mum's earnest plea was a winner. Only twelve or thirteen at the time, I think of Mum smiling brilliantly at me as I co-signed the deed of sale.

The dream psychologists were right. While I was asleep, my inactive mind had actively popped up a solution in my dream.

Emilia Compound: front apartment. Behind is 2nd apt which was our original home, now renovated. Apts 3 and 4 were built. afterward.

Emilia Compound now stands on the original location of our first home. 

My dream

and my Mum's

that had come true.

***

Shall we continue with the meaning of some more of our dreams?

Have you dreamed of flying or being chased?

Have you had any recurring dreams? 

Being naked in public? Finding money? Failing a test?

Please let me know. Include details, if you can - and we can talk about these in the next blog.

Until then, dream on!

(To be continued)

 

I'm Falling

Dreams 

Dreams are today’s answers to tomorrow’s questions. - Edgar Cayce

No dreams about falling from my faithful readers? Not too late. You can still share. 

Dreams about falling can carry a secret message. 

They could be a symbol of fear in real life. Perhaps of failing at work or in relationships?

According to another interpretation, falling dreams signify that something isn't going well. 

It might suggest that you need to rethink a choice or consider a new direction in some area of your life.

When I think back, fortunately, I've never really fully fallen in my dreams because I'd tell myself, This is only a dream. Wake up.

Perhaps, a falling dream simply indicates, Let go. Enjoy life more!

***

Dreams can provide solutions to a problem. Have you ever had such a dream?

Please let me know. I'm interested.

(To be continued)

Just Shooting The Breeze

Dreams

Yet it is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top. - Virginia Woolf

It is said that dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you.

Interesting, huh?

That's probably the reason why there's a whole study devoted to the interpretation of dreams. Famous psychologist Carl Jung says, Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.

Ever been baffled by your dreams? 

I've been thinking, why don't we just shoot the breeze and talk about some of them in this series?

***

Dreaming of falling is very common. 

Have you ever had such a dream?

Let me know (please include all details that you remember) and we'll talk about all this in the next blog.

(To be continued)

Palengke

Philippine-Style Cottagecore

 Participate in life instead of just watching it pass you by. - Lindsey Wonderson

There was a small Cherry grocery on the Sta. Mesa rotunda that Mum went to on especial occasions for butter and Amrikan-brand cookies. Other than that, there weren't really an abundance of shops the likes of Kroger and Costco where I grew up in.

What we had were sari-sari variety stores and the grand bazaar of all-things-edible-and-perishable, the palengke wet market. 

On Saturdays when school was out, Mum would sometimes ask me to do the marketing. The closest palengke was just a straight-shot through the back eskinitas of our home on Fountain Street.

She'd give me a basket, a list, and money rolled up in a handkerchief. From my list, I could guess that we were having fish sinigang at lunch.

Along the way on the narrow street, vendors were already busily gutting fish. Between rows of open stalls, I could see the dirt floor muddied from the melting of ice used to ensure the freshness of seafood sold, and by booth holders who routinely sprayed their area with water.

Walking through the marketplace always made me feel alive.

Everything felt so raw and real.

Literally.

There were piles of yellow mangoes, mounds of vine-ripened watermelon in baskets, stacks of dried squid, malunggay clusters spilled over baskets, and a few live chickens awaiting slaughter.

The air was vibrant with the sharp smell of smoked tuyo fish and the buzz of conversation from jostling shoppers.

I headed toward Aling Daling's open stall. Mum who was her suki (regular customer) had instructed me to buy everything from her.

Bangus: should smell fresh and mild, not fishy, eyes clear and shiny, flesh firm and gills red. Check.

Tomatoes: neither too firm nor too squishy, supple, slightly soft, shiny and glossy. Check.

Kangkong (extra bunch to add to dog's cooked food): bright green color. Check.

Kamias (only a small handful for humans' sinigang, none for the dogs, Voltaire was allergic to anything sour): crisp and free of soft spots. Check.

For me, that was a wrap up. CHECK.

Bunot And Walis

Philippine-Style Cottagecore 

Why can't the house clean itself? It seems to get dirty by itself. - Anonymous

Vacuum? Swiffer what?

We didn't have any of these. The best house cleaners? Plain, old bunót and walis (coconut husk and broom).

Bunót (accented on the second syllable) refers to a coconut husk used to polish floors. 

Walis is a soft whisk broom used on smooth floors like hardwood. Though it sheds, the natural bristles are great for dislodging dirt and dust.

And you know what else?

We had Monica, a twelve-year-old live-in helper.

There was 99% chance she would be cleaning in the mornings using these implements and humoring us with her sassy comments.

Mum being her ally, Monica could get away saying, soon after she'd pulled the bunót from underneath Lil' Boy's desk, This house was clean yesterday. What happened?

That Monica! She was a character. I just laughed because I knew her moods not only swung. They fluctuated and bounced back from spirited to being sweet and caring.

I was familiar with her routine. Humming a discordant phrase from a Nora Aunor song, she'd place a foot on the husk. 

She'd use her leg power to move in such a way as to scrub the floor.

Internet pic only

Moving into the kitchen, she'd yell at the brothers, I could keep this kitchen clean if you people would just stop eating here.

My brothers didn't argue with her. They didn't say, Ew. They knew best how to handle her mood swings: bring her food, then keep a safe distance.

That always worked. A snack break of pan de coco humored her, even when she had to additionally apply floor wax onto the living room floor (Mum's instruction. I was having a visitor in the late afternoon).

All that was left to do was to sweep dirt into a small pile. Sweep the pile into a dustpan. Become increasingly annoyed when the last bit refused to sweep into dustpan.

And, of course, cheeky little Monica would say when she was done, I just finished cleaning the house. Nobody touch anything when I leave for school. (Mum had her go to school in the afternoon).

On her way out, she'd look back at me, beaming, Ate, bili kita ng corn nut pag-uwi ko. (Eldest Sister, I'll buy you corn nut when I come back.) 

Peering into her twinkling eyes and quickly surveying the house, I could only say, Good job! Super kintab (shiny)!

Labada

Philippine-Style Cottagecore

The laundry has its hands on the dirty shirts, shorts, and sheets, and who knows what tales they tell. - Anonymous 

Lately, I've seen in YouTube shows a deluge of images of nostalgic countryside living. It was first named Cottagecore on Tumblr in 2018.

Reading about this newfound fascination with a laid-back, more unplugged way of living made me grin because in the Philippines, that was simply how we lived, way back then.

Consider this.

Before washing machines and dryers were common, labada (laundry) was washed by hand.  

I knew it was wash day when the bathroom was off-limits to all but Aling Luring. That was the day when she reigned Queen of the Labada. 

Looking at the pile of dirty clothes she did each week, I was pretty sure there were people who lived in our house whom I hadn't met or that the wash had propagated while we slept.

Dare to tell her that you needed a quick shower and she'd yell back, Laundry today or you go naked tomorrow. 

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Sometimes, I'd watch her, squatting in front of a large metal basin. She would half-fill the tub with water, then meticulously scrub the clothes by hand using Perla soap bar.

She'd fold each piece, as though she were kneading dough.

She'd press with the heels of her hands, wringing out every bit of dirt.

I was always on the lookout when she commenced the slapping process. That was when she'd whack items on the edge of the washtub causing the soapy water to splash onto its rim.

Then, the denouement of the ritual. The window pane test which was, to me, a most amusing sight.

To see if the laundry was sufficiently cleaned, she'd stretch each item between her fingers, as if she could see through them. Only after prolonged perusal would she deem her handiwork fit to be rinsed in clean water. 

To this day, I could see her face, beaming, as if the labada, purified in spirit and draped on a clothesline, were a royal standard hanging above her patch of grassy kingdom on the backyard.