Dreamscapes: On Being Tom Hanks

Dreamscapes is a series of short stories that was inspired by my dreams. They’re not exactly the same, but I don’t really change a lot. A few tidbits to make it more logical are added. For the ones the written in Indonesian, look up Ranah Mimpi.


     It was getting late. Berta, the mother of the two kids who was standing in front of me gnawing on some candy, was already inside her room. So was Deidre. She was in another room at the end of the hallway. We were staying in some sort of mansion/hotel thing, I didn’t arrange it. Probably a discounted AirBnB. I was sitting down after the whole family dinner, just in front of Berta’s room. The younger boy had a curly hair but cut short, and so did his sister but with her hair tied back. They were happily eating some candy on the small table next to me. The table was made of wood, and I had a hunch that it was where the telephone was a long time ago.

     He muttered something about me being “Uncle Hanks”. Berta and a couple of other people made fun about how close I was with his older sister at dinner. It was not a funny joke. They thought she should marry someone like me. That went off as I was being “that” kind of uncle. At the dinner table she would just blush and clammed up (so was I, with the exception of a small, fake chuckle), but with no one around she was a bit more annoyed and was pretty vocal about it to her brother. I didn’t see anything but I’m sure she pushed him on the shoulder or something like that.

     “I’m sorry, I’m sorry okay. I was just KIDDING. Why are you so upset?”

     “Cause there’s a lot of jokes going around”, I interrupted.

     “Jokes are going around too much and sometimes people’s feeling’s get hurt”

     His face changed. I think this reminds him of the time he experienced something like this. He’s a small kid, pretty sure he had some kind of bully at school.

     “You can’t really stay mad at the whole bunch of people laughing, but you know, some people don’t like to be made fun of.”

     He continued with saying sorry and they both headed to their Mama’s room in a jiffy. I went back to mine.

     My mother was staying in my room, in-between Deidre’s and Berta’s room.  It was a big room with a big couch, you would see it straight from the door if you went inside. She was already watching TV with a bunch of candy on her side. It was her favorite thing. No one actually realized it though. There’s a number of boxes with exotic chocolates (chocolates from places I never knew existed) scattered around the room. Stacks of boxes filled with candy just under the coffee table. They’re not empty, it was just opened and you could see that only 1 or 2 candy was taken out. She liked to mix and match. She was crazy about it. I guess nobody went to my mother’s room.

     With only the glow of the TV screen guiding me to my bed, I decided to just go to sleep. I didn’t realize, or in fact didn’t think about why my mother was also an African-American descent. I shrugged that thought thinking that that’s probably why I’m successful in the acting business. Exposed to different kinds of perspectives, I guess.

     “Night, Ma.”


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