LITERARY | Everything Stays

Dreamwalkers, children of the night and the ones who abode themselves in dreams. Blessed with the power to follow a path into many universes and timelines through their dreams by the use of their consciousness. Their physical body becomes a vessel that their consciousness resides in.

Often, they become an outlet to others for a taste of normalcy with a price of consciousness of their actions.

August in the Philippines. The country’s provincial towns are covered in fog with the cold caress of the wind. It was the closest time to feeling the season of winter—melancholy. Rather than the roads filled with toppling snow, it was floodwater that climbed up to the homes by the tiny cracks. Many generations have experienced needing to evacuate in rural areas to higher grounds or the home itself being renovated.

There in the distant fogs, where a previous landscape of rice fields have become bought land, stands a teenage girl inside of a gated house. The house form has become structured and slick with the minimalism of the preferred look of modern homes, it wasn’t empty rather it was full of greenery. Trees, flora, shrubs have become similar to the arrangement of the house than the previous formation of chaos they once owned. It almost has become too perfect, as that young teen thought.

Often destruction came to mind for the girl’s thoughts when the topic of the house came. She saw it as an omen for the sudden change of the layout with changes in her life becoming too drastic of her childhood. The land of the home she saw personified as angry and wished for those who live in the house be disturbed in her life within the last five years. How the people saw the once tiny humble home have become a light of opulence without knowing the distraught of her heart.

At first, it was just changes of some family members moving on with their life. It was fine, they’ll visit. Then there were broken electronics on the floors by the anger of a child in the adult’s body. Somehow, it made her protective of the house even more with her wishing for the home to be hers one day to the dead on November 1 without knowing the thought that her beloved grandmother had become weak.

A martyr her grandmother was. A silent strength that the young girl wished to have rather than the emotions of her grandfather that belied in her genetic code. For the following months in the next year after the incident, death followed around with each omen of strangers having their homes have tarpaulin in her visits to the rural home appearing frequently more and more with each visit. The young girl shook it off, knowing that her grandmother is strong enough to fight.

Never has she realized that in summer where flowers bloomed and the sun peaks earlier with the moon was the news of grandmother. Perhaps, she underestimated the omens that death gave her.

Another year has passed from the death of her grandmother, the grief didn’t start quick and only took form months later. Each morning of her family’s visit to the rural house was… silent especially in rainy seasons like these. Footage by the cameras would find her there standing on the terrace watching clouds swallowing the formation of mountains. The smell of earth was close to a possible rain drop. This has become a growing routine similar to her late grandma, always leaving the rocking chair empty as if she waited long enough she could hear her voice again.

With the passage of the clouds, it turned night without notice. The greying skies slowly turn to the darkish hue of the night sky. Meals passed with family members having almost zero interaction with the girl staring only at her computer. A shut-in was a term for her, it was well established for her character on the weekends. She wasn’t lonely, the droplets accompanied her by the gentle taps on the windows and the passing videos on the screen as well. Almost the sound of the outside world has just become a buzz to her.

Even by the bed, her head rests on the pillow with her laptop next to her. Everything has become the same; videos rambling in her ear just before it becomes white noise in her sleep. The tune of the air conditioning buzzes, the room was empty without a clutter in sight similarly to the exterior of the architecture. At the end of night, her companion was the light on the screen.

Sleep is easy, it slips through like a flowing river. It’s calm and gentle, it holds you close even if the waters are quite cold. One can float until a shift strikes and the balance drowns with no support given. Today’s night was similar to that until by the open of the girl’s eyes she found herself in this brightly placed landscape. It was as if pencil colors sketched over with an impressionistic and fauvistic eye in mind, there is no light source however as it seems that light can be emitted anywhere.

It filled her with a sense of nostalgia in heart. The girl’s body was still on water yet was unable to drown. The height of the river could immerse a child under the waters, but a teenager’s body was quite bigger. Neither did she feel wet as well nor cold, almost pre-existing through the soul. Slowly she stands up and her eyes wandered first than her legs with where each river looks to be flowing. Its colors differ in each trail, almost like a forest that she wishes to travel.

The rivers as well quite sound different from the others. Almost as if different lifetimes were showing but never there and for she has heard her own laughs and cries. It was not the color of the river that made them distinct but rather how it felt. There was one river however that caught her attention and it was behind the river she stood on. It was this feeling and not the noise of home. The smell. The heat. It was where she wished to be and yet she did not understand it yet, her legs immediately followed.

Her feet touched the grass, how young she felt all of a sudden. The trees that followed her made her quite small. This section quite reminded her of a fairytale rather than where she came from. Each pace on her feet suddenly felt faster before her legs found momentum and jumped to the river. She knows that she shouldn’t jump as she would only feel the rocks below even so.. it was not she minded with her eyes closed shut—

Imbalance. She felt for it a moment of being drowned until her hand reached up. There she awoke under these light pink colored walls and that off-colored white ceiling. The room was brightly lit by the windows behind her, the curtains were designed with fine white lace that are now tied as a sign of morning has risen. Her eyes followed where it was, where she was in her previous room… back home.

Two beds next to the wall. One cabinet for the clothes. One plastic drawer cabinet with the top having perfumes and miscellaneous items near the door. Behind it, the door, was a dream catcher and some belts; then to it, the wall, had a picture of a guardian prayer. Huh..

At first she thought she was lucid before she left the bed, touching the floor that lingered the cold and now she was between the two beds. Her sight gets closer to where her room is supposed to be below the cabinets, she found the extension that seemed to be charging phones and a laptop. It was hers in the second year of the pandemic.

Her head reels at the possible year this dream is, too realistic to feel. The home was renovated as that second year was which means this is in.. 2021 or somehow the present and nothing..

Nothing changed.

Almost, she goes to the door with her head opening the squeaking door and everything truly was home—the interior and furnishers haven’t been moved and almost looked vintage themselves. The girl’s heart beats seeing the sunlit room without the tint of the house that it had become. Her heart beats slowly yet it’s prominent on her breath, her eyes stilled on the living room where the sound of a commercial playing in the background with her family seen on the couch yet that was not her interest to be found. Their voices seemed to echo out as they always have, she kept walking until the girl passed the arch to where the dining room and kitchen were.

There, an elderly figure was there and she wore the same house dress when she was alive. Her hair is short, fingers worn, and her rectangular glasses that she wore. Oh, it soared the girl’s eyes seeing her grandma alive. Her heart squeezes as if it was its own plush. Truly she tried to speak but her throat was restricted with her heart.

“Apo, how come your eyes are teary eyed?” her grandma asked first before the girl had noticed.

The girl’s fingers rubbed her eyes casually, her mind seeming to dislike being called when she was close to crying again. “I just woke up po,” she answered as if she was removing dust from both her eyes and she can’t help but look away from her grandmother.

There was shame that grew for she remembered the months before her grandmother’s death. Unable to do anything when she needed her. The girl tried to be so strong yet how come she could when in this world Death did not come? Her ribs close like a hug, a mockery of one that she was unable to release from. Her breath heaves before looking back at her grandmother and smiling so gently unable to speak, decidedly sitting where she always sits.

…

For the next few days or weeks, it has become this schedule in which every weekend the girl visits this world. The girl could not go to school as the others went to school as well. The girl did not explore this parallel world around her; only wished to exist, watch, and consume the world around her. For the heat of this home has become familiar and comforting yet unbearable than the cool walls that the renovated house has given her.

Often she stared at the messy garden of the front yard, it was so beautiful and lived as if magical beings existed there. In each morning and afternoon, she remembers, her grandmother would take care of those floras; it seems her grandmother is strong enough to still go out even though it has been years now. In this world, the girl did not speak similarly to the world of her own – she only stared and leaned close to her grandmother. For a moment, she is just a child while they watch television and her grandma weaves or prays.

There were moments where they just sat on the terrace together where there was no electricity. The wind would sway their hair with her grandmother on the rocking chair while the girl sitting on the benches there. It was quite cool as they waited and often there would be an ice cream man passing by that her uncle would buy from. Each flora almost tangled itself with one another, for her grandmother has mentioned that the branches should be trimmed back. Oh, the girl did not pay mind.

They only talk if they wish to and even if the girl in her younger age was a little shameless to her family as they were all close, she could never speak at all. In this world, she expected herself to be more open to her grandmother – quite opposite of it. Only she wished to spend more time, more with her presence, more than she could have.

This was her redemption. This is her home. This is where she belonged, and yet..

Almost the girl feels guilty for taking this version of hers time to rest.

…

After a few months, in both worlds, November 1 is slowly reaching the topic of visiting though the other world seemed to be mentioning something different. There are a few days that she gives herself breaks from visiting in the sembreak, nothing had changed than she had hoped to. She is still an outsider even if months pass and each river’s trajectory flows differently.

This time she awakened differently in her visit to this other world, the girl knew time here is different. It was more advanced in a few hours, making it already the next day, while her physical body slept in the night time of her world. But today, October 31st, it was glaringly different with the living rooms decorated as if it was a birthday. Different colored balloons and colored machete paper down on the ceiling to the floor made it different. It was not eerie in fact it was vibrant.

Perhaps they celebrated differently here, another difference in this world. It must have been nice for her other version to be decorating and planning with her family.. Ever since the home was renovated it hasn’t been like this.

For a moment, the girl looks down with a heavy heart and sits on the family sofa that had the television on. Outside she saw her other relatives cooking outside of the food and her grandma approaching the back door entrance. The grandmother was cooking with them as she always has done in fiestas, holidays, and more.

The girl watches, it was just the look in her eyes that told an “I miss you,” before words could even start. It pined so much that her heart couldn’t even bear to start glassy eyes that wished to just cry each time in this reality. Night after night, morning after morning, her tears would let go in her world instead. It just had been restless after everything.

“Oh! You’re finally awake,” her mother calls beside her. The girl seemed to be startled and in a blink, her tears swallowed its own.

“Hm.”

“Do you want to eat? The food had just been cooked.” Her mother’s kindness never wavered, only the girl could give a tight smile. The mother could already sense her daughter’s unease and how she has become quiet on the weekends.

“Yeah.. Uh..” The girl only nodded, before looking– “Why are we doing this again?”

“One more year of grandma before she goes. It’s just a reminder of her time left.”

Oh. Somehow, this world. This reality. Somehow it found a bargain to death.

“..Okay,” the girl just nodded as if tears were about to start again. Has she taken the time from her alternate self? She wanted to be alone again. “I’ll eat,” she looked down, for she believed that she had sinned. Before her mother walks away, the woman’s hand rests her hand on her daughter’s head and gently caresses it. To comfort and to show love, for the girl it feels hollow.

…

Life always changes. It is the most fundamental rule in a creature's life. They evolve in many ways, from infancy to rot. Structures are built, they crumble in the end or turn to ashes. A home is built to be taken care of and yet when it is empty, it degenerates. Eventually, nature takes back what is sown no matter how old. For that rule has applied to everyone and no one is quite safe from it.

Decidedly, in this last supper that the girl has with the family, for she has become a trespasser. Her eyes look at her grandmother as if she said goodbye, until she sees her then smiles ever so kindly as if she’s known so much. As if she has accepted her after everything. The girl was unable to stomach her food yet out of respect, she eats it quietly at the table while her family chatters.

The girl notices it too, the family as well does not take notice or talk to her often. Sometimes, they do but they seem to understand that she is rather introverted or perhaps she just enjoyed solace. Oh either way, she was only here for her beloved grandmother and she should not take the time the version of herself has. The girl knew herself well, for guilt empties her stomach and what-ifs take place if she only knew that her grandmother did not have enough time left.

Just like a quick blur, it was time for bed. She still was unable to speak to her grandmother for a goodnight while the elder stayed with her watching television. One of the soap operas played after the news. It was a heartwarming episode tonight rather than an angsty dramatic one. It was quite getting late and the outside world was blocked by the curtains as the cracks show the darkness within. The sound within the home became of the actors voices from the television and the fan, other family members voices you can hear by the rooms with their laughter and talks. Everything was so still in the living room, even the decorations that were laid out just spun in one angle then traversed the home or fell off.

“Apo, how are you?” her grandmother strikes the conversation first, looking at the television with her granddaughter. One must say that they are more interested with the television, with one being genuine interest and the other for escape.

“..I- I miss you, po,” the girl starts, “And I’m sorry.”

“For what?” her grandmother turned her head and even without turning hers, the girl knew the voice understood.

“I don’t know po. I.. I don’t think I’ve been good. I think I’ve neglected you po. I think I’ve taken what’s not mine and I just didn’t care when you didn’t teach us to be like that. To be kind. To be understanding. I have been.. If you saw po, how much I have become I don’t know if you still would love me.”

Slowly she looks at her grandmother with tears that finally let go after every month that’s been with her presence. The girl sniffled, almost like a little girl that her grandmother has loved and she still does. The granddaughter saw it, saw the softest that never left her eyes from the day that the granddaughter said goodbye for the last time to her without knowing. Perhaps she is still young to understand how the grandmother held so much love for someone that isn’t even the version of her granddaughter.

“Lola.” The girl called before reaching for her grandmother with a sob, her hold was returned with such warmth that she had almost forgotten.

She muttered apologies and stopped herself when there weren’t any more, there were no words that her grandmother had given but only sweet caresses from the back. The girl did not wish to cause disturbances at all from the other family members, she hated being asked what’s wrong and she could not say it. For a moment, at least just once, she doesn’t need to be asked and just weeps on a loved one’s shoulder.

“When I look at you, apo. I think of the qualities that you have with mine and yes, you are a dreamer but that doesn’t mean you need to be alone. We’ll meet again. Maybe later or a longer period of time,” her grandmother held her with a deepened breath and almost wished to lull her to sleep.

The girl wished to say and ask – Why can’t it be now? But she knew in her soul that this is not where her home is.

A home is not just a house. A home is a place where even after everything changes, it’s at a moment of stillness. It itself is a realm that holds you in its warmth and frozen state. Even if its form is now different and everything is rearranged, you feel by the heart that it’s where you belong.

…

November 1.

The clouds are still taking the form of a storm yet the sunlight gleams so closely from those clouds. The girl sits on the same chair where she has always sat on the terrace, a bird chirped quietly before flying around with their colony. Her fingers dug on the chair’s surface with a little sigh before caressing it. For a moment, she looked quite fond of this scenery.

The reason why the home was renovated was the choice of her grandmother. It was a wise one as the climate has worsened but the design was she wished then it must be a piece of her that will never be left. The smell of rain is coming though the moisture of the heat greets itself. By the soil and the stone. By each sunrise and dusk. By every silence and sound that can be heard in this home.

Without a notice, she hears the front door creak and she knew it was her mother. The girl looks and her mother smiles before sitting next to her beloved. Gently the mother placed her head on her daughter’s shoulder, she had quite grown taller from her now. The girl returned the gesture with a small smile showing on her lips. The wind seemed to agree with a gentle rock of their hair and the rocking chair. Though it is only felt alone, the pain is shared.

Even if this dream is not brightly lit, its warmth can be felt rather than just be seen.