January 19, 2016
I keep dreaming of houses lately. Elaborate ones, many rooms, intricate doors, confusing passageways, worrisome security details. In these dreams I am kept awake by the thought of outsiders barging in my house. I wake up amused though, because the houses look and feel familiar and yet they are also strange. They're like old friends but also new ones. Have I told you about Baguio in 2000? When I had to live in a house with unwelcoming people in it and a bathroom with no door? I understand the roughness and uneasiness. I, too, wouldn't like a stranger milling around.