Dreaming of Angels

What do angels look like, at least the way you envision them? You probably have an image of them dressed in full white gear and with fluffy wings spread out on their back. That’s a typical angel image, especially right now with Christmas drawing near.

In my dreams though, angels look like any one of us. They wear nondescript clothes and blend in with the crowd. The only way I notice them is that they usually appear in pairs and are unusually quiet. I encounter these pairs on empty roads.

A few years back, I dreamed that a pair warned me not to take a particular road. Then, they let me see that the house where I was supposed to go was being robbed. Strangely enough, that house was my grandparents’. The time also looked as if it was during the forties or fifties. My grandparents did get robbed at about that period.

After I had just given birth about three years ago, (I almost died) I dreamed that I was still on an empty road in the middle of the night. There were no more trains and the streets of Metro Manila were strangely quiet. I saw a different pair of what I later on referred to as angels. The two walked hand and hand, with their feet barely touching the ground. They accompanied me home. With them, a few turns were all I needed to get from Metro Manila to Bicol (which are six and a half hours by bus apart at best).

Just last week, my husband was admitted to the hospital because of a severe asthma attack. We stayed at the hospital for three days and three nights. Then, I dreamed of yet another pair; their appearance suggested they were grandmother and granddaughter. They met me inside what appeared to be a small mall in the middle of nowhere. They told me that since I was already halfway during my journey, I could visit my grandmother. (My grandmother died last 2010 but in the dream I felt it natural to think about visiting her) I bought my grandmother ten pink flowers (daises?) and ten white ones.

With these three dreams, I have come to the conclusion that angels come in pairs. If they were not angels then they could at least be the best companions in difficult journeys.

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Weekend at Manila Doctors

So, I admit that I am used to being cared for. I am 31 years old and my parents still worry about me constantly. Even when I was already teaching at Ateneo de Naga University, they would still call me everyday. Okay, they still do. They live in Dominica, a Caribbean island, and long distance calls are frightfully expensive. Calls are not even five-minute hello-goodbyes. They last for several minutes to an hour. So yes, each call should be a big deal but has become so commonplace. Thankfully, Skype has made things a lot better by making calls kinder to my parents’ telephone bills. Through Skype, they also get to see – and not just hear – their grandson.

When my son was born, I learned what it was really like to take care of someone else. A little baby is delicate and fragile. It was difficult not to feel some level of fear every time I hold him in my arms. I was so awkward and clueless. Eventually though, I learned how to care for him. My previous experience of caring was less physical: ensuring that my brother gets his allowance on time (my parents deposit the money through one account for convenience) and that he has all the things he needs. Even today, I still make sure that my brother – now aged 28 – has all the things he need. He is so cerebral and busy, a Magna Cum Laude graduate from the UST School of Medicine and now a medical intern at the UST Hospital that he has no time for grocery shopping.

I am a Cancer woman. You may say that horoscopes don’t really mean a thing but somehow, the description of a Cancerian woman fits me perfectly: sensitive, a homebody, caring, domestic (though I don’t know how to cook, wash clothes, etc.). So, caring for someone should be easy. I was tested when I had to care for my husband during his three days at the hospital just this past weekend when he was admitted due to a potentially life-threatening asthma attack. I was used to him caring for me and not the other way around, and I guess it felt weird. We are married for almost six years. He had never in his life been admitted to the hospital. It was difficult  when he did end up hospitalized but somehow. I did not know I was capable of sticking around for all three days and nights with a clear enough mind (at least most of the times) but I was. I cried all night and all day when our son was hospitalized at the tender age of one, only about a year and a half ago. I don’t think I was a perfect carer and watcher during those three days, but I was able to play the part during an unexpected weekend at Manila Doctors Hospital.