Daytime of the night

Last night, an hour before curfew, I thought, "What if I walked around with my KATIPUNAN press pass? Will the checkpoint people consider the magazine as a "legitimate" publication? Can I say, Arts & Lifestyle, dude. Step aside? And if they insist on taking me to jail, can I say, I don't think you should do that. You know who my boss is, huh? April Jo-han-na Sescon, mo'fos!?"

Last night, at curfew, I thought. "What if David Blaine was having a show in Luneta right now, where he has to stay inside an aquarium for nine days, and what if he can't take it anymore, he has to leave the aquarium because all his blood vessels are bursting like longganisa and no one's around to help him? And, besides, will the aquarium be considered as his home, that if he leaves it by some splendirrific magic trick, he'll get sent to jail?"

Last night, an hour into the curfew, I thought, "What if the curfew simply goes on and on and on and let's say all the bathrooms in the building conked out and I desperately have to pee and the only place I can do it in is in the freaking bushes across the street?"

Last night, two hours into the curfew, I thought, "What if I went out right now? What if I went out disguised as a homeless person carrying a tattered Lucky Me carton over my head, singing Adeste Fideles? Would they bring me in? Would they falter when I raise the carton higher and say this is the only home I recognize, mortals!?"

Last night, three hours into the curfew, I thought, "What if my dad is out right now? What if -- Oh, shit."

Last night, four hours into the curfew, I thought, "What if someone from, say, Croatia, has been planning to serenade me? What if he planned to do it in such a grand manner that he'd drop out of the sky from a hot air balloon painted with stars? What if he gets shot because they all thought he was a terrorist, because the white mums he has in one hand could be a bomb and the guitar case slung over his shoulder could be a rocket launcher? What about this chance at true love?"

Last night -- well, this morning -- at five, I thought, "What if Art imitated life?" But it was in a dream.