Monday, January 3rd, 2005

I took a taxi to Bubbly Moments, the bar located downtown. I paid the driver for my fare, and once I closed the back door, a sharp pain was felt on the back of my neck. Turning around, I looked for the perpetrator who touched me. But no one was around except for a couple who sat on a bench a few blocks away from my spot. So, I figured it was just the wind, but I had my doubts.

The taxi already left as the car's fumes entered my nostrils causing me to wave the smoke away from my face. The vehicle sped away as if it were in a hurry to get somewhere in a jiffy, so I became a bit suspicious.

Was the driver the one who touched me? Maybe I left something in his car. I looked in my hand bag to see if I forgot anything, so I rummaged for my cell phone, keys and wallet. After finding everything located in my purse, I decided that I was just a bit paranoid and forgot about the whole fiasco.

But the minute I entered the bar, everything in its surroundings seemed to be talking to me. As if the doors  opened by themselves and sang, "Be our guest, Be our guest, Let the magic do the rest."

And the "wine bottles" wanted to test me out; watching me closely in order to keep me from fleeing out through the doors.

Could have I been pricked by a syringe? That's the only logical answer I could think of as I normally don't feel this whimsy. It was a sarcastic way of how my addiction was calling out to me, as if this was a subliminal message luring me to come over to taste each one.

Hey, Marlene, over here! - Budweiser hollered.

No, try me, I've got you covered Baby! - a bottle of bourbon whispered as it winked at me.

A bottle of Scotch, and Brandy here!

Honey, I can do better and I can come with an umbrella!

Oh, for the love of God, I must be hallucinating, to think that the bottles were still talking to me!

The bar was my savior, that's all I can say. Should I walk away? My siblings asked me to do that. But do I listen? Apparently not. I'm battling an addiction due to the loss of family and friends. How my daydream of my late parents came upon me was beyond me; as if they were trying to warn me about something.

I confess that this was my weakness and it was talking to my delusional mind. So I'm practically to blame for this mess.

***************

Out in front of me, a bright light flickered. It beamed back and forth as if it were a traffic signal indicating when it was clear for me to move forward.

Covering my eyes from the glare, I walked further towards the abyss, not knowing what I was headed for. I predicted that there was trouble ahead, but instead of seeing disaster strike , two angels with halos formed in a circle. They smiled, and danced as if there was no tomorrow; causing a grin to form upon my lips.

It was as if I was in a deep trance, mystified by some illusion that entrapped me into this angelic atmosphere. As I stepped forward into the muddy mist, white musty clouds surrounded me as if these objects were messages just waiting for me to open them up.

And once my eyes opened, I saw the following events appear before me. Those were my childhood days when I was still playing hopscotch with my sister, or chasing my brother in a game of tag. There was also a time when I tumbled on the trampoline in our backyard and cried afterwards when I fell on the asphalt. This made me shudder as I got my first big owie that day and saw how my father kissed it after putting a band-aid over it.

These moments made me tremble inside. How those good times hardly ever faded from my mind.

Wish I could put my hands together and freeze those times all over again. But I knew that wouldn't happen because time couldn't stand still.

I wondered why these precious moments were flashing before me. I didn't ask for them to appear. It was as if I was visited by spirits of my Christmas past.

As I looked up from my position, the divine figurines opened their mouths to talk to me, but I couldn't hear a word that was being said. It was as if our way of communication was being blocked by an invisible barrier, so I voiced out my own words instead to see if it made any difference.

But not a word was coming out of my mouth, which baffled me. I felt like I was locked in a soundproof box, where I threw my hands on the glass windows to break free. Yet, despite all that trouble, the walls did not shatter. So, I gave up as my hands fell down.

Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I kept staring out into the celestial sphere, gazing at the figures around me.

Angels who looked like my parents pointed their hands at me; flashing before my very eyes. They motioned me to hover around them, but my feet wouldn't move as if they were stuck in the damp, muddy clouds.

They positioned their hands to wave goodbye, and I squinted my eyes for the same light seen in the beginning materialized.

Endlessly crying, and wiping my tears away, I tried my best to calm down. I told myself that it must be a family reunion that couldn't last forever.

Muttering to myself, I asked, "Why can't I be with you?" It isn't fair.

I whimpered, not knowing if anyone heard me. And if anyone did I was hoping for a heavenly response from above.

But I didn't intend that someone's warm hand would touch my arm. It made me a bit uncomfortable because it wasn't what I expected.

"Life isn't fair, hon."

As my eyelids opened, I faced the person who dared to speak back to me, as he continued to tap my shoulder. I wanted to pummel him furiously with my fists for the intruder didn't have a right to lay a hand on me, but I held myself back from committing the crime.

I twitched with fear as the hairs on my head stood up. I wondered if the stranger was eavesdropping on me, and now my daydream about my parents quickly ended.

Thank you, Mister. I was having the best time of my life until you ruined the moment. Sheesh!

As my eyes cleared up, I looked up again from the counter to see a young man around his twenties standing in front of me.

Ah, the bartender! Just the person I wanted to meet. As if he was the all -knowing, all - advice guru I wanted to converse with.

***************

My dream was quite awkward, as it felt like I was a character in a story that faced two orbs that represented ghosts or worse, were they the grim reaper that were secretly disguised?

I think my siblings have experienced the same episodes, but they weren't sharing it with me. They told me to attend an Alcoholic Anonymous group, but I declined to go to one.

I feel I can stay sober whenever I want. I don't need a bunch of strangers telling me what to do.

And, I remembered that mixologist was the same person that made that cocktail drink earlier. One that tasted odd.

Wasn't that strange? As if he wanted me to doze off like Sleeping Beauty. I'm blaming the dude for giving me that brief hangover! Although, it is also my fault that I kept drinking the substance despite what my conscience told me.

Bad Marlene!

***************

Noticing my frown, the young man looked at me with his wide set brown eyes waiting for my reply. He waited for my response as he kept standing by his post while I was deep in thought.

"Um, nobody. I wasn't talking to anybody. Just to myself." I quickly replied. It wasn't completely a lie, but personal thoughts shouldn't be shared with strangers.

I suppose my thoughts in my slumber were spoken loudly enough that my curious server overheard me.

I was ashamed of the drool that ran down my chin and quickly wiped it away. He must have seen what I was doing when a napkin was suddenly handed to me. I thanked him for his gesture by nodding back.

I didn't know how long I was asleep but it felt like it was an eternity, since I yawned and stretched out some muscles.

Yet, it felt so wonderful to revisit the childhood memories in that dream. I guess that catnap sort of re-energized my self-esteem for the moment.

***************

Looking at my empty glass, the bartender asked if I wanted another drink.

"Another margarita for the lady?"

"Yes, sir, but this time without the umbrella, I want the lime instead. Plus, can you put it in a smaller glass?" I asked.

A small umbrella isn't what I needed to stay awake, and I could care less on why that décor had to be placed with that cocktail drink.

I had the urge to slap myself silly with another glass, because I needed the extra adrenaline to keep me going.

"At your service ma'am! I'll have it ready in a jiffy!"

The bartender was about to leave, when a tear fell down my cheeks again. I wiped it with my right hand in hopes that he wouldn't see my tears, but it was too late.

"What seems to be the problem, Miss?" The bartender asked as he picked up my glass and wiped it off with a wet towel.

"It's a very long story. Don't ... I don't really want to talk about it, Dr. Phil."

Didn't really mean to offend him with my wise-cracking response, but I didn't want to share any secrets with a stranger who acted like he was my new friend. Not asking for someone to act like a psychologist right now either to help me figure out my thoughts.

Some bartenders tend to stay reserved, but others don't know how to keep their nosy ears away from listening to another person's business, and this guy was making my blood boil. He could have just done the art of small talk with icebreakers, such as asking me how my day was. But no, he had to go right ahead and touch my shoulder.

I'm a complete stranger for heaven's sake!

Well, the guy must've wanted me to leave, for it was indeed getting dark. Or was I just hallucinating for I swear I came in around noon? After all, I still had to adjust to the light as the eye gunk that I kept wiping away was blocking my vision. Or maybe he wanted me to move because I have been sitting on the same bar stool since I got here.

The bartender looked at me with a smirk upon his face. He turned around, mumbling some words to himself and went to the bar stand to make my drink.

Once he returned, he tried to offer some friendly advice again.

"Well, if you ever want to share your story, you can always find me here. My name is Chino, so just ask me." He stuck out his left hand for me to shake it, and I returned the favor.

I nodded to reassure him that I was listening, but didn't want to engage further in the conversation.

I came to the bar to ease my mind and to forget about the past; not to talk about it with some stranger. But it's so hard to let go of all the memories that haunted me. It's as if trouble was always lurking nearby and it didn't have any intention of leaving me alone.

It was a weird feeling as if evil was lurking by, tempting to bewitch me at all angles.

Out of kindness, I thanked Chino for his support and quickly drank what I could. After all, I did not want to be that drowsy.

I paid Chino for the drinks, and was ready to call for Paige to pick me up.

Until, I heard a certain person call out my name. It came from a tall, attractive man I once knew. Someone shady in appearance.

But I quickly brushed him off with my long coat and ran towards the wooden doors.

I was afraid that he would follow me.

Obviously, he's someone I didn't want to be associated with or am able to forgive. Not now and possibly never again!

Owen and I always had a love/hate relationship after Moira's death.

I fast-walked to the nearest bus stop, and called my friend on my Blueberry: hoping she'd answer.