I Thought I Was Ok. Then He Suddenly Crossed My Mind. I Kept Crying Again. So I Stood Up, Looked In The

Every night you dream that you talk to a genie, when you wake up you can't remember what you wished for. One morning you wake up with a giant crab pincer replacing your right arm. What do you do?

Dreams are strange things. They take us to places beyond our imagination, and sometimes, they’re so vivid that we wake up questioning what’s real. For weeks now, I’ve been having a recurring dream where I talk to a genie every night. The weird part? I could never remember what I wished for when I woke up. It was like my subconscious was playing hide-and-seek with the details, leaving me with a hazy memory of the conversation but no clue what I’d actually asked for.

But then came that morning. The one where I opened my eyes, stretched out my right arm, and… it wasn’t there. Instead of my usual hand and arm, a massive crab pincer had taken its place. I froze, staring at the monstrous claw attached to my shoulder, a mix of horror and disbelief washing over me. This couldn’t be real, could it? I had to be dreaming still, right?

I did what any rational person would do: I pinched myself with the claw. Let me tell you, crab pincers are no joke. The pain was very real, and with that, the reality of the situation sunk in. Somehow, someway, my dream wish had manifested into this bizarre and terrifying reality.

After the initial shock, the questions flooded in. How could this have happened? Why a crab pincer, of all things? I tried to think back to the previous night’s dream, but as always, the memory was foggy. Maybe I’d wished for something vague, like “strength” or “protection,” and the genie had interpreted that in the weirdest possible way. Or perhaps I’d made some offhand joke about having a tough exterior. Whatever the reason, here I was, the unfortunate owner of a giant crustacean claw.

So, what do you do when you wake up with a crab pincer for an arm? First, I panicked. Then, I did what I always do when life throws something inexplicable at me: I adapted.

I spent the next few days learning to navigate life with my new appendage. Simple tasks like opening doors, brushing my teeth, or even typing became Herculean challenges. But with practice, I started to get the hang of it. I learned to use the pincer delicately, avoiding crushing everything I touched. I even found it had some unexpected perks—like cracking open coconuts or, if I’m being honest, scaring off unwanted attention.

But beyond the practicalities, this experience forced me to think deeply about identity and change. How much of who we are is tied to our physical form? How do we adapt when something so fundamental about ourselves is altered overnight? The crab pincer became a symbol of resilience, a reminder that even in the face of the absurd, we have the power to adapt, to find humor, and to continue moving forward.

In the end, I’ve come to embrace my new reality, as strange as it is. I still don’t know what I wished for that led to this, and maybe I never will. But maybe that’s the point. Life is unpredictable, and sometimes, the wishes we make in the depths of our dreams lead to outcomes we never could have imagined. The important thing is how we respond to those outcomes—how we choose to grow, change, and find strength, even when life hands us something as bizarre as a crab pincer for an arm.

And who knows, maybe tonight I’ll dream of that genie again and finally get some answers. Until then, I’ll keep pinching myself—both literally and figuratively—just to remind myself that this wild journey is, indeed, real.

Daily affirmations

I am healthy, I am wealthy, I am rich, I am that bitch I am gonna go get that bag and I am not gonna take your shit I am protected, well respected, I'm a queen, I'm a dream I do what I wanna do and I'm who I wanna be 'Cause I am me

Thanks, Flo Milli!

Feeling queasy.

This summer, I’m heading to Iloilo... alone. My best friend was supposed to join me, but she has important things to take care of, and I don’t want to get in the way.

I’ve already envisioned all the things I want to do in Iloilo. Plus, I’ll be attending a wedding in Capiz, which makes me even more excited for the trip!

So here comes the tummyache. That was fast.

I just have to pull some strings here and plan ahead. I should have a better plan for 2022. Two plans. Just in case the first one fails.

I was already in the process of writing a love story but I stopped. I do not have the drive. Maybe I'll just wait for ideas.

The Marcos family’s return to power is one of the most tragic ironies in Philippine history. After decades of suffering under Ferdinand Marcos Sr.’s dictatorship—marked by rampant corruption, human rights abuses, and the plundering of the nation’s wealth—his son, Ferdinand "Bongbong" Marcos Jr., now leads the country. This is not just a case of political resurgence; it is a glaring symptom of how easily truth can be rewritten and how collective memory can be manipulated.

For years, the Marcoses have engaged in an aggressive campaign of historical revisionism, distorting the brutal realities of Martial Law into a golden era of economic prosperity. They have leveraged social media, disinformation networks, and the public’s disillusionment with post-EDSA governments to paint themselves as victims rather than villains. But the facts remain: the Marcos dictatorship saw over 70,000 arrests, 34,000 cases of torture, and thousands of extrajudicial killings. The economy, far from being at its strongest, was driven into massive debt due to unchecked spending and corruption, leaving future generations to shoulder the consequences.

Bongbong Marcos himself has never acknowledged the horrors of his father’s rule. Instead of seeking accountability, he has evaded questions, refused to apologize, and even suggested that the past should be left behind. This refusal to confront history is not just dangerous—it enables further abuse of power. His presidency symbolizes the normalization of impunity, where stolen wealth, privilege, and political dynasties thrive at the expense of ordinary Filipinos.

The Marcos family's wealth, estimated in billions of dollars, remains largely unreturned, despite multiple court rulings declaring that much of it was ill-gotten. Meanwhile, many Martial Law victims have yet to receive full justice. The very people who fought and suffered to restore democracy now witness its slow erosion under the leadership of a man who owes his political survival to deception.

The fact that the Marcoses are back in power exposes the deep flaws in our political system—where patronage, misinformation, and historical amnesia dictate electoral outcomes. But it is also a wake-up call. If history has taught us anything, it is that tyranny does not die easily. It disguises itself, adapts, and waits for the moment when people forget.

But we must not forget. We must continue to remember the lives lost, the voices silenced, and the wealth stolen. Because the moment we stop remembering is the moment we allow history to repeat itself. And if that happens, the tragedy of the Marcos regime will not just be a chapter in our past—it will be our future.

Saw you in my dreams.

This isn't because of insomnia, it's the trauma.