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AraminaTandulan, DIA
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Wet dreams (3rd palkat)

03/29/2017


Wet Dreams (3rd Palkat)

Aramina P Tandulan, DIA, DJ, Esq, LLB, BSChem


Note: The title is actually ‘Sweet Dreams’ as explained in 2nd Palkat.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is based on true events and confessions during my trials and tribulations, the names, places and events are slightly modified and altered not to sensationalize but to hide the true personae and identities of the characters and any similarities to your real life experiences are purely accidental, co-incidental and unintended, peks man, cross my heart and hope to die. Discretion is strongly advised as some readers might find the contents just a little suggestive.


Chapter 1 continued.


Vanessa felt a tingling sensation all over her body, more so on her nape. She knew it was not due to an itch, as her lelang, her grandmother used to say,“Vanessa my Dear granddaughter, if your nape hair are standing, no sumgar dagita dutdot iti teltel mo, saan a nagatel, it is not itchy, adda al-alia, you are being watched by a ghost.”

Vanessa doesn’t believe in ghosts or any supernatural creature; just a figment of someone’s pigmented, colorful imagination, she would tell herself especially when she is walking near a cemetery and dogs are howling; it’s dusk and fireflies are hovering around the giant balete tree that apparently houses a Kapre and a coffin seems to be floating under the giant tree.

But her inner alarm was telling her something was amiss, why would she feel a cool breeze blowing and cooling her nape making her nape hair stand when her bathroom was flooded with steamy mist…and was that a ringing telephone? Strange, she muttered to herself, because she didn’t have a landline phone and her smartphone wouldn’t ring a ‘kriiiiing…kriiiiing’ ring, it would be a ‘Sasakyan Kita’ ringtone. Instinctively, Vanessa turned off the shower faucets and she reached for her towel taking a quick peek around the bathroom checking for any written messages on her angular mirrors. She quicky wrapped herself and hollered;

“hello, is anyone there?”

---

Christine giggled, what’s this, another Bates Motel mystery thriller novel, she sighed as she took a sip of her double-double coffee. She laid her computer tablet on her office desk and gently rubbed her eyes. She’d always wondered why in movies a character would ask if anyone is around. Obviously, any intruder would not answer back:

“Yes I am watching you and I know you are doing a selfie.”

But of course, the movie watchers knew an intruder was watching and they’d tell her to grab something to protect herself, but the movie character wouldn’t know that. Still, Christine muttered to herself, the writer became predictable.
---


Mayor Aramiro laughed as he nervously fondles his crucifix hanging from his necklace, “selfie, honey Judge, taking a self-picture? Was that how Christine would call Vanessa's activities inside her mirrored bathroom?”

“Well, honey Tandulski, Vanessa was in the privacy of her bathroom, she can do whatever she wants; self-help, self-fond, sleep alone under the shower.”

“So, honey Judge, how would you say it in Ilocano then…Sel-Selfie?”

We both laughed at his very green-green joke.


What I admire about my hubby Mironski is that he never removes the necklace with the crucifix around his neck. Probably, he finds it cumbersome to hook and unhook the tiny hook of the gold necklace. Or, more likely, he values it so much because it was gifted to him by my mother after his conversion to Roman Catholicism prior to our church wedding. I never pressured him to convert though, it was his own free will;

My darrrling Attorney Araminski, he said while on a semi-kneeling position, I’d do anything to convince you that I am ready to marry you, surname and all, will you marry me?

I could only giggle that time because again, he was trying so hard to look me straight in the eyes and not under my chin, and he was not holding an engagement ring but instead he was holding a pillow to cover his Kris sword, his ‘kawwe-kawweng nga espada’, we were still on that bed of roses where we were thrown from that stupid ‘biglang-liko’ taxi; our clothes were scattered…ehhh, drying somewhere.


You know honey Judge, he said after his conversion, the war in Mactan could have been easily avoided if Spain had sent your Spaniard mother instead of that Portuguese Magellan to spread Christianity. If Miss Ferdinanda Magellan was the ambassador of Catholicism, the warriors of Mactan might have brought her flowers and rice cakes instead of bringing their bow and arrow, machetes, bolos, kampilans, and spears to fight the manlulupigs; the infidel foreign invaders. We Filipinos could be singing Kumbaya together every Sunday.

I knew that Mironski had a warrior blood in him but he was much influenced by his grandfather, himself a direct descendant of a Datu; apparently, his grandfather’s grandfather had subscribed to his great-great-great grandfather’s dogma, the Rajah Tandulan Dogma:

You cannot cure a rabid dog by becoming a rabid dog yourself.

According to Mironski’s grandfather, their great-great-great grandfather Rajah Tandulan refused to fight the infidels when they landed in the Visayas; he suddenly got afflicted with a toothache.


Sometimes, when we attend the Station of the Cross, he’d ask me for explanations about the Holy Week events. Like last week, he was wondering what if the Roman Soldiers had their own version of Guantanamo prison; Honey Judge, he whispered, what if instead of a big wooden cross, they gave Jesus Christ a big barrel of water to carry up the Calvary Hill and the Roman Soldiers had used the water in the barrel to waterboard Jesus ala Gitmo…your mom then could have given me a barrel of water instead of a crucifix to hang around my neck …umpfff (that was the muffled sound of his reaction when I deposited my elbow right under his side ribcage).




Aramina P Tandulan, DIA, DJ, Esq, LLB, BSChem ©2017







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