A Cathedral by the Sea

 

I just woke up from a two-hour sleep, having had one of the most pleasant dreams. I recall being on a remote island, surrounded by jagged cliffs and tall grasses. The sea, stormy and unforgiving, crashed against the rocky shores—a reflection of my current situation since I had crossed the stormy sea that day and stayed the night at my grandmother’s place.

In my dream, a gigantic cathedral was being built nearly at the edge of the cliff; right below was the raging sea. The cathedral, towering and majestic, seemed out of place on the edge of the cliff, its red bricks stark against the gloomy sky. The construction was quite strange; the building stood half complete and half bare, yet its interior was nearly polished and finished.

The cathedral was decorated with eminent stained glass windows, filling the walls and adding a majestic grandeur. The images depicted scenes from the gospels. One window, in particular, caught my eye: Jesus Christ standing at the center, which I assumed represented the resurrection. The red bricks of the walls greatly complemented the stained glass windows.

I approached the building with a friend, whose face was familiar yet indistinct in the dream. She felt like someone I had known intimately, perhaps a childhood friend or a former classmate. The building had no doors; we just walked inside since it was only half-built. Inside, people in casual clothing were busy, though not with construction. Among them were white-robed young boys, wandering around as if preparing for an event or perhaps just after one had ended. They seemed busy, talking to one another, as if discussing something important.

A familiar face passed by in front of me. My friend uttered, “Isn’t that...?” She couldn’t mutter the name, so I added, “Liam C-!” The teenaged Liam C-, a former member of the Libera Choir, who is now an adult almost in his 30s, casually walked by with a companion.

Then I recognized who these white-robed boys were. They were the Libera Choir, whom I have loved so much since I was twelve. I was delighted—ecstatic to have finally seen them in person. I wanted to greet Liam but I was too shy and didn’t want him to think I was acting crazy as a fan girl.

After they had passed, I spotted the young Isaac L-, who appeared 13 or 14 years of age. I greeted him quietly under my breath, “Hi Isaac!” The young Isaac must have heard me, for he looked at me, gave a big smile, and a warm hug. I was extravagantly elated at this gesture. I couldn’t help but mutter, “Aww.” I wanted to be buried in that hug forever but I had to let go. I asked Isaac if we could get a picture with him, to which he agreed.

Unfortunately, neither I nor my friend had a phone. The young Cassius O’C-W observed us and must have noticed our ordeal. He greeted us with a smile, took out his phone, and took a selfie with us.

After the event, I realized that while we may have had pictures, I had no way to get a hold of them since I had no contact with any of the choir members. Then I woke up.

I realized they might have been preparing for a concert or it had already ended. The only reason they visit cathedrals is to perform concerts. This dream reminded me of a long-forgotten and forsaken phase. I had loved Libera for quite some time but had grown out of them over the years. The boys I met are now full-grown adults, just like me. I still wish to attend their concert, but it will never be the same. The batch I longed to see since they visited the Philippines in 2013 is long gone.