Traumatic Dream

I had a quantum biofeedback scanning done on me for better health management in early part of April this year. The machine has an uncanny ability to scan for imbalances in the various levels of the biofields of the body. It was in this session that I was told that the amalgam fillings in my teeth should be removed because they are poison and causing much of the ailments in my body. The readings were all unclear to me, I was given numbers and symbols which I just could not at all understand. However, what amazed me was the part when the machine gave some numbers (representing my age) supposedly the times in my life I went through some traumatic experience. The numbers given were four, six, ten, twenty-four (4,6,10,24,etc.). And like a movie flashback, I found myself reminiscing what had happened to me at age ten.

As a backgrounder, my dad was a salesman with a big tobacco company in the early '60s and his work would require him on the road and out of town most of the time. But as a dutiful husband and father, he made sure that he would be home during weekends or during special occasions.

In summer of 1963, I was requested to be the Reyna Elena in the May festival celebration in our barrio, Ususan, Taguig. It was a big event in my life. Not all girls were given the privilege of being one. I woke up excited for the event and for my dad's homecoming. I knew this was one occasion he would not miss and he gave me that promise. I fervently hoped that he would arrive early so I can show off to him my beautiful gown and so that he could accompany me to the parlor to have my long hair done. I spent the whole day on the stairway waiting for him. Afternoon came and there was no sign of him not even a call from him. My mom assured me that he would come. Nightfall came and still dad had not arrived. My mom said that I better get prepared because the "musico" or the marching band would come anytime soon to fetch me for the procession. I remembered wearing a bad face all throughout the procession because I did not have my dad with me. The procession ended without him. My mom could not assuage my feelings. I was feeling something more. I was so afraid and I thought I knew why. I can't tell anyone what I felt because they would not believe me. Besides, I was not that sure. My mom could not make me stop crying. Then an emissary came and told us a bad news; my dad had an accident. The vehicle he was riding turn-turtled and fell into a ravine somewhere in Baguio while he as on his way home. We came to know later that he was brought to the orthopedic hospital because he sustained some broken bones in the rib cage area.

When dad came out of the hospital, he recounted to us how the accident happened. He said that the road was slippery and his driver made a poor calculation of the road curves. The last thing he knew was the vehicle slid on the side of the cliff and plunge into the ravine. He managed to open the door and jumped out of the car and luckily hit soft soil. However, a few seconds later, he felt a heavy thud on his chest. The vehicle landed on top of him! His driver was able to get out of the car and asked for help. They were rescued in no time. As he was reminiscing, he said that he was saved by Mama Mary. He had the rosary in his hand when the incident happened.

I now have this confession to make I have kept this a secret since I was a child of 10. I knew the reason why I was so afraid because I knew that something bad was going to happen. I saw it in my dream the night before. I saw my dad inside a coffin, wearing a muddied undershirt, no trace of blood or bruise, holding his rosary. But when I looked at him closely, he smiled at me. He is alive!

The doctor herself was so amazed of my revelation. I never realized too that that childhood incident would haunt me 'til now and deeply embedded still in my subconscious. Who would know that one traumatic experience could start from one bad dream?

Post script

Had the incident happened today I think I could have averted the mishap because I would do everything within my powers to warn him and hopefully he would heed my request.

Dad is now eighty-five (85) years old, healthy and strong, and enjoying his retirement with my stepmom, Amelia (mom died in 1984) here in the Philippines with my family. I am happy because Mama Mary and her Son Jesus have given him a good lease on life.