the weirdest thing.

there was nothing about my filipino teacher that reminded me of blood, violence, and gore — but all of a sudden, as i was sitting in his class, trying to stay awake amid the light drizzle outside which silently lulled me to sleep, i had this vision:

i was in the middle of the road — helplessly stuck while a speeding motorcycle was approaching — it’s speed and my untimely location spelling mayhem that was beyond description.

then — the acrid smell of sulfur mixed with the pungent stench of blood.

i lay sprawling still in the middle of the road — and i can only hear the muffled screams of passersby, as they panicked and tried to comprehend that death was about to pass them by.

blood, gore, death.

snap.

the pain, the memory, the vision: all were too vivid to be a figment of my imagination. the blood coursing through my face was as palpable as the first cut that i had sustained as a kid.

i was helpless, lost, and about to breathe my last. and i could do nothing but wait for that final moment of slumber where awakening will lead me to somewhere else that was bereft of shimmer and light.

it was the weirdest thing — and even as i left the class and tried to shrug the unsettling feeling off, i was still perplexed trying to decipher what it meant:

was it a foreboding of things to come?