The old man sat on the stairs of the nipa hut.
He could feel the heat radiating from his skin. His entire body was damp and his shirt, wet, as dews of sweat trickled down on his neck from his head.
The grass gently swayed with the humid wind while the sun glared at him.
He took a small, white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face.
The farmer’s daughter walked down the steps.
“Why do you come here for answers?” she asked.
“I was told of the ancient wisdom that you people hold…”
She smiled. “We are not sages nor some kind of mythical beings. If you’ve come here thinking those, then you are mistaken and I’m afraid you’ve wasted time and energy in coming here.”
“But your way of life…”
“The answers you seek can be found deep within yourself, where it has always lived.” she interrupted. “If you cannot fathom this, then the answers will never come to you.”
“I can’t teach you anything. No one can teach you how to breathe; we’ve always known just as our spirits have always lived in the same place but for you, my friend… your mind needs to stop so that you may remember.”
It came to me in my dreams. I nothing’ed it but then it came back several months later. I was dreaming it intermittently for months; I would get fragments like flashes of image, some dialogue etc. Then one time I dreamed it for 3 nights in a row, which is kinda creepy but I thought it’s a nice little narrative so I wrote it out.
I haven’t dreamed of it since.
*the Nipa Hut drawing isn’t mine. I tried to find the name of the artist but I wasn’t able to.
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