If there’s one thing I can say about my subconscious, it doesn’t know, or it doesn’t really care, that my mother has passed away for years now. A lot of times in my deep sleep, she’s always there, gracing my dreams with her presence. Last night’s foray in la-la land was no different. However, I couldn’t place or remember where we were (except that my mother knows where she wants to go) and what the circumstances were, but she wanted me to join her on an errand.
“Anak, come with me to Makati. Let’s take the P2P bus from U.P. Town Center.”
“But, why take the bus? We can use the car, if no one is using it.”
“No. Let’s just ride the bus. I haven’t taken that bus service. I want to experience it.”
That’s my mom indeed. She would insist on something if she truly wants it. I couldn’t remember much the details of our conversation while inside the bus. But it always amuses me that my unconscious self, up to that point, has not yet realized that I’m talking to someone who is not with me anymore. Made me miss, upon waking up, her simple wisdom and her “I-told-you-so” retorts at me whenever she’s proven right at certain life decisions that I have (“wrongly”) made. Oh, she’ll always rub it in, at least to me.