THE WORLD OF MY IMAGINATION

Why is the title of my blog “Midnight Meanderings”? That’s because I usually write my best blog entries and come up with my best ideas around that time. And so I thought the title was really apt.

I have always had trouble sleeping and I remember countless nights that I spent writing, cleaning up the house or watching cable TV when everyone else sleeps. Steve thinks that my sleeping habit is kind of weird. I don’t take afternoon naps and when I finally fall asleep, usually after midnight, I’ll be up again around 4 or 5 am.

I have been trying to force myself to sleep normally. I mean normal as in 8 hours like most people. It’s an uphill battle. Like my brain has a will of its own- it won’t send “ZZZZZZZZZ” signals to my body at the right time and when I finally sleep, it electrifies me into waking up much too early.

I remember I was the same as a child. We three girls shared a room, and both Thess and Cita will be dead to the world while I kept awake and gave my imagination free rein in creating colorful and magical stories. We lived in the heart of Pasig, in a commercial area. We occupied a unit in a commercial building, my father’s business was on the ground floor and the living area was on the second floor. It was a busy community. Cars and buses ply the route till the wee hours of the morning. The headlights will reflect on the ceiling of our darkened bedroom and I would watch the play of shadows in all shapes and sizes. And then, my mind starts to weave stories of princesses dancing in a big ballroom, their gowns billowing as they twirled and turned. And when the goblins came and chased the princesses, their shrieks of terror filled the room while the goblins chortled with glee and mischief. My sleepy eyes would then start to close and goes on to dreamland where the story resumes.

I remember that to the left of our unit was a Chinese restaurant and to the right was a medical clinic. I would hear Papa’s employees talking about the Chinese restaurant making siopao out of cats and mice. I would listen to them with rounded eyes while my heart was silently breaking for the poor cats. Never mind the mice, I hate them. And so they continued to say that the doctor thought it would be good business to put a clinic next door to catch all the patients coming out of the restaurant. They would guffaw and slap each other on the back while they talk about those things.

So the next night, I will make up stories on the ceiling about the mad Chinese chef trapping the cats and throwing them in a boiling cauldron. He will then cook a beautiful dish for the unsuspecting restaurant patrons and they will grow whiskers and will run off screaming from the restaurant with their hands on their aching tummies. I see the doctor with an avid glint in his eyes, ushering them in his clinic to cut off their whiskers and to sell them potions for the tummy ache.

I thought my story was an account of the truth, until I stopped a customer coming out of the restaurant to ask if he needed a doctor. Tinoy, one of the employees grabbed me and apologized to the man, and then proceeded to lecture me about not listening to the other men telling tall tales. Darn, how was I to know, with my 7 year old mind that grown up men can also make up stories?

To this day, I would lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling and thinking about all sorts of stuff- serious stuff like building a good future for my family, dreaming about a better life for everyone. The difference is I also listen with one ear if someone is trying to break in through the front door. These are hard times and anything is possible.

I could only surmise that my sleeping pattern is as normal as it can be for me. I survived my childhood so I will probably survive now. The culprit is most likely, my overactive imagination. Last time I heard, there is still no cure for it.