The vision was like looking at pictures in fish eye, but not really.

There are p lants in front of a house. It seems like a rainy day because its like dark and gl oomy. I am standing by the plants, like a pavilion tunneling towards the entranc e of a house. It is painted white and there is a door, brown, or black, I am not really sure. It must be late in the afternoon, about to get dark. The plants, t heyre not flowers, or maybe ornamental plants that dont flower into something like a rose or daisy. What was clear is that, they were all a deep dark green. The a tmosphere is that of rainy afternoon, you could feel a sense of coldness in it. If I think about it, it could have been eerie. But I dont really feel any sort of dread in the vision. IT is that sort of feeling that you could be going home, y ou want to be home but then you know that there is nothing, or no one to come to o, a feeling of serene emptiness. IT was a recurring vision, much like the recur ring theme of my dreams. The dreams. They always come back. That where I want to be able to fly, to overc ome the obstacles. It must be more like a nightmare. Most nights, when such drea ms visit, I am always running, running away from something, or someone. I could not even will myself to face and fight my conjured enemies. I only want to run a way, and then soon I will realize that I can fly, and so I fly. I fly but not th e Supergirl sort of flying, Its more like hopping, where I can hop as high as I c an, for a moment it would seem like I am flying but then again going down and I would feel that urge to push myself from the ground and fly again. At that point , all or one of my enemies will be on me, sometimes, they overwhelm me, and I wo uld feel a sort of panic, and feel even more strongly the need to fly, to flee f rom my enemies. I could somehow fly but the then, my flight wouldnt be high enoug h, I will keep landing, keep pushing my feet to propel me again but it will neve r be enough because my enemies can catch me. Sometimes they can get a hold of my feet , then let me got. Still I try to propel myself, and still my flight heigh t wont be enough and my enemies will get a hold of me. And this goes on; I am alw ays fleeing, or trying to flee. But what is really troubling about these dreams is that, my enemies seems to relish, enjoy the dread I feel, like they know the fear I feel and it gives them a sort of satisfaction at my panicked state. So th ey get a hold of me, and then let me go, just to get a hold of me again, until I am restless enough for wanting to flee that I would wake up from the dream. And in the darkness of the room, I would stare, feeling so tired and stressed fr om all the flying and getting caught. But more so, from the felling of dread and wanting to flee that never seems to succeed. I am trapped. In all those nights that I wake up from those dreams, I lay awake, my eyes are closed but my mind is wide awake, thinking of everything and nothing. They are all tiresome episodes of my life. It is in these nights that I get to think too much, about my life, a bout my past, about what will tomorrow bring to me. IT is on these nights that I get to examine myself, my emotions, my state of happiness and if I am satisfied or not of my life. Getting plagued with those dreams always means getting plagu ed with my restless thoughts in the next hours that I would have to lay awake. I think, I am too much a feeling person. My actions, my decisions, over the year s, I would say, are all based on my feelings. Sometimes I would reason, that the y have not been feelings, but instinct. Has it been instinct really? I was neve r the calculating type. Once, I was told, that I am too nave. Nave? Maybe its true, though I could not really say that I am one who readily believes that all best will be what will happen. Growing up in a troubled home, I have seen how bad the world can be. And maybe, just maybe, my friend was wrong. I am not nave, I am a cynic. My thoughts are the thoughts of a cynic, although my words would tell you otherwise. Inside, I keep the cynism. It is like, I am always expecting somethi ng wrong and awful is going to happen. It is only those, who truly know me that see this cynism. And only those who could accept it are able to stay in my life. It is this sense of negativity that repels people from me. I dont know what I am saying now. Or why I am writing this. It is probably because, I am too frustrat ed, too depressed with the truth that only so little people can accept me as I t ruly am. The vision. I always thought that it means something. Growing up with it, I actu ally associate it with happy things. The happy, free and peaceful feeling I get

on Saturday afternoons that I spend at a house of our church mate. I also think that it is something my mind made up as something that I wanted to have in the f uture. OR that it is some place that I ought to be. Over the years, it visits m e less often, and I noticed that I couldnt remember the last time that I ever fel t that serene peacefulness that envelops me whenever I am looking at this house with all the dark green plants around it.