just because pol ang appreciates my morbid dreams.
this one has been a recurring dream since childhood. started way back when i had an irrational fear of my uncle the ex-band member (they played in club dredd together with the fledgling eraserheads!)
he looked like slash of guns n’ roses fame, and he covered his room with posters of a very hirsute James Hetfield with his Metallica buddies, damn their commercialized anti-piracy souls to the pits of Billboard Top 100 hell. when he started working, he cut his hair to conform with corporate standards of good grooming. stuffed those long curly locks inside a plastic bag and then into a drawer.
i lived with my grandparents, uncles and aunts in a two-storey rental apartment in San Andres Bukid, Manila. there were two bedrooms, reached by climbing a proper staircase with thick, sturdy wooden steps. they had floors made of wooden planks, polished by generations of soles. we rarely closed our bedroom doors. we weren’t sticklers for privacy. and it was hot. come to think of it, that place was haunted. by a newly married couple bayoneted by the Japs. but that’s another story altogether.
i remember, in that dream, i went up that staircase, turned to enter the bedroom to my right, and found my uncle affixing electrodes to my aunts’ skulls. apparently he wanted to fry their brains while still in their skulls and eat them afterwards, nice and tender and flavorful.
jeebus, i was an eight-year-old, i think. it scarred me for life.
come to think of it, my aunts were never tied up. they were just seated on the floor mewling in fear. that was kind of stupid.