Welcome to the jungle!
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meet the predator
call me jenie
born on 02/20/83 after my Dad & Mom drank beer and ate balut 9 months before
lives in Singapore, but always a Pinoy at heart
works as an advertising copywriter, but hates proofreading her blog entries
loves true friends, fake DVD's, alternative music, alcohol, sarcasm, boxing, hatha yoga, and House (the TV series,not the music genre)
loathes indifference, power trippers, narcissists, giant egos and bad breath
tries to live by the quote "Postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by giving, by losing." by Anais Nin
and the freakiest dream award goes to...
I was in my high school and students were waiting to recite a poem or a prayer they composed, perform an interpretetive dance or what have you. Aja performed with her sister about their separation from each other since the migration. Others raised their hands to recite their masterpieces. Just like old times, I had a bad case of stage fright when performing alone so I stalled my turn and never volunteered. I roamed around the school first and saw Mario & Luigi come to life. I entered their world and became a part of the computer game, but felt like I didn't belong.
When I went back to my class, I came across the teacher who turned out to be Jesus Christ, with the white robe, long hair and beard. He was already leaving with some men or maybe they were his disciples. I figured he was only going to the restroom, I really don't know. I panicked because I haven't had my turn in recitation. I entered and saw that there was a substitute teacher who was going to the next part of the program. I raised my hand and told him with a loud voice that I'm not done yet.
In front, I started reading what I have in my hands. For some bizarre reason, I couldn't read what I have written and I was stuttering like anything. I couldn't figure out why some parts of the prayer were in German, but forced myself to finish anyway. I was devastated for making a fool of myself in class.
Afterwards, I approached the teacher in the person of St. Josemaria Escriva, the founder of Opus Dei! I told him that I apologize for appearing so unprepared but I really did write my own poem and have mistakenly handed it to him. He searched in his pile of papers and found it there. I told him not to mind my performance anymore, but read what I've written instead. He accepted my apology and comforted me, then he asked for my arm. He got a string of beads and tied it around my wrist to make me feel better, and I did.
And that was the freakiest but probably one of the most meaningful dreams I've ever had. It's too dramatic but I know it's somehow related to the prayer I said before going to bed last night.
12:43 PM
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
