I love airplanes. I can't count the times I got so fascinated over them.
In the dream, I was watching a video about an airshow crash involving a pretty young (in his 20s) pilot, whose name was something like Staad. Or Steve. Or something similar that started with S. He died upon impact. (Of course, this was probably something my subconscious made up.)
I was so interested about the circumstances of the crash - it was apparently because of customizations he did on his plane - that I googled about him. He died a few decades ago... on November 28. His face was on the internet, too.
Then, the next day, a plane was parading through the road across our house. Everyone was cheering on it. The pilot happily responded to everyone who talked to him, and even accommodated my uncle's invitation to stay over.
He was charming, but something about him was mysterious, too. It was as if he wanted to say many things, but he suppressed it. While he was talking animatedly about the aircraft that he had casually parked in my uncle's front yard, I watched him. His face was handsome and foreign. But he spoke straight Filipino, and I was almost fooled. He was.. beautiful. He looked familiar.
It didn't hit me until later why.
For some reason, we became friends. He said his name was Christopher. He would visit our house and we would talk about the progress in his aircraft. He was planning an airshow. Only then did I realize who he looked like. He looked like Staad D. Or Steve D. That guy who died years ago in an airshow accident.
I was about to tell him, but it was as if he knew what I was going to say. He held my hand, pulled me to a place nearby, and let me meet his three friends. One of them was weird, and felt out of place. He would look at me as if I was a crime scene suspect. The other two were better. One was the 'brain' of the group. He was chill, quiet, but very wise. The other was laid-back but serious.
Many times I tried to tell them to not continue the airshow. The three friends would look at me, then tell Christopher/Staad/Steve that it looked like they weren't alone in telling him not to push through.
I was worried. I think the time I spent with Christopher/Staad/Steve got me to know him well, and I really liked him. The times I wanted to cry, he would lighten up and fool around.
At one point, while spending time with the four friends, the weird friend's stare at me grew more intense and borderline creepy, and I found Christopher and the serious friend signaling each other. The serious friend pulled me up from where I sat and said we would be walking around the area.
There were ruins in the place we went to, but it was packed with many people. AS we were walking through stairs, a mysterious man in black suit and long hair came past us. He looked at us for a while, almost suspiciously, before turning away.
Some sort of chase happened between the guy in black and some gang nearby, and I and the serious friend managed to loose the mysterious man in black.
I was so confused at that point, when we made contact with Christopher/Staad/Steve again. Wordlessly, he took my hand and we walked away from his friend. We went to a building where there was a party going on.
It was a wedding, he said. He asked me if I liked weddings. I said yes. He smiled and told me he wanted to get married, too. There was a far-off look in his eyes, as if he didn't expect it would happen... ever.
At that point, he was still holding my hand. For a man, his hand was really soft. And to be honest? I liked how it felt. I knew he was still there. At the same time, I was scared. What if the accident would happen? What then?
I wanted him to not continue, but he was hell-bent on doing it.
He took me home, smiled, and bid me goodbye. We stayed still for a while, just looking at each other, before someone from our house's front yard called out and asked who Christopher/Staad/Steve was. He just sent the woman a charming smile and said his name. He didn't say Christopher, like how he introduced himself the first time we met him.
He said Staad.
I felt cold and irrationally scared. It was awful, standing in front of him and knowing what would happen. I couldn't speak.
He stared at me again, bid me goodbye, smiled. Then he turned and walked away, almost cheerfully. He said he would contact me on the day of the airshow.
When I got home, locked myself up in my room. Some time later, I fell asleep, and when I woke up, a whole day passed.
I missed the airshow.
There was no call. No texts from Staad.
I heard the sound of glass breaking, so I went out and found my parents cleaning up broken pieces of clear glass. I felt cold again and told them I would clean it up instead.
While picking up the big pieces, my mother told me that she had news. Big news.
Someone died in an accident. That was when my heart raced so much, it felt like it was stuck at my throat. I started tearing up. My mother continued that it was one of her friends who I was supposed to know. Kind of a popular woman in the neighborhood.
When I asked about Staad/Christopher, she didn't know who he was. Eventually, I realized that no one else remembered who Staad/Christopher was, or that there was a young man who paraded his aircraft one day and charmed the pants off everyone.
I was alone in remembering him, so I cried for him.
Then I woke up.
