Chapter 15: HOW TO DRAW WHILE YOU’RE SLEEPING

I met Juan Tabagwang in the busy street I used to walk along everyday near the Tomadors' Tavern. He was in a hurry, carrying a rolled up illustration board and a paper bag containing some pencils, an eraser, a bottle of white deleter, and an ink. From his look I noticed that he was very tired working very hard to come up with whatever drawings he can think of and that he also wanted to catch up with his many very tight deadlines. Anyway, he pretended to be just fine and even boasted that he can still draw even if he's sleepless. He also communicated to me his many weird dreams which are the results of his overworked mind during his erratic sleeps. I was about to humor him when a bum caught my eye, he was sleeping and snoring soundly under a cool shaded corner of a building.

I pointed the bum to Juan to call his attention. "Juan," I said, "you see that bum?"

"What about him?" he asked nonchalantly.

"If he's an artist," I answered, "he's an excellent example of an artist who's drawing while sleeping."

Juan looked at me with blank stare on his face. Countering me, he said, "But he's not doing anything."

I was about to explain to him when I saw Maria D'Kapri, the Super Kapre, beaming her winsome smile at us outside the Tomadors' Tavern. Though reluctant because of his deadlines, Juan obliged me and we went inside the Tomadors' to drink "agua de pataranta." I ordered 15 bottles of "agua." But Juan leeringly looked at me knowing that he's the one who's going to pay for it again afterward. Anyhow, with great gusto we drank the "aguas." We were already drunk when Juan started to open up with his problems.

"You know what …?" he asked.

"I don't know," I answered him to liven up our conversation.

"Stop being funny," he said, a bit irritated, "you know I'm too tired to draw, I have headaches, sleepless at night, and when I was sleeping I dreamed many weird dreams all because of my difficult "hanap-patay" style of illustration."

"So, your work is killing you," I said. "Why don't you instead try to draw while you're sleeping, that way you can catch up with your lost sleeps and be well rested?"

Juan deadpanned, and he was annoyed by what I just said. "Don't be a comedian," he said, "I'm serious."

"Me too," I said. "Let me give you an illustration how it's done. You see, I always dream of Maria …"

I was unable to finish my explanation because Maria, who was nearby, overheard and misinterpreted what I said, and she smacked the back of my head with her backhand.

"Pervert!" she exclaimed forcefully with anger.

"Far from it, Maria," I reasoned to her as I rubbed my aching head, "you misunderstood what I said."

But Maria wouldn't listen to me, she turned her back and walked away fuming mad. I turned to Juan who burst laughing.

"Indeed, you're a pervert," he said. "You deserved it."

"Aw, shut up," I said, pissed at Juan, "you pay for the aguas."

"Again …?" Juan said, wide eyed.

"You deserve it for siding with Maria," I said to even it up.

Anyway, Juan paid Maria for our "aguas." She didn't want to talk, nor look at me, though I coyly pretended to be sorry so that she would forgive me, but all to no avail. We exited the tavern and along the way we sing the irritating and out of tune song of the artists who draw while sleeping.

"La la la …, you sing with us now, all you lazy bum artists of the world who draw while you're sleeping, la la la …."

Suddenly, Juan stopped as we passed by the house of Kurso, the Great. "How come Kurso is not cursing us again?" he asked, mystified. "His dogs are also not howling, nor his cats meowing? Can we again throw rocks at his house to wake him up?"

"Leave him alone, Juan," I said. "He's working while sleeping, he's dreaming with his wife."

"Yeah, right … this dreaming with his wife I understand," Juan said with an impish smile on his face, "but this working while sleeping or this drawing while sleeping, you haven't explained it to me yet."

"I'm too groggy drunk, Juan," I said as I walked haphazardly due to drunkenness, "but continue with your weird dreams and, just like Kurso, you work and draw while you're sleeping."

Though Juan was still confused when we separated, for two weeks I hadn't seen him. But I met him later by accident at Luna's Park, the hangout of the kulapol group of painters painting always the beautiful scenery of the park. When I saw him he looked dejected as if the whole world crashed upon him.

"Juan, what happened?" I inquired.

"Your advice was stupid," he remarked with bitterness, "I slept most of the whole two weeks, and I hadn't done anything. I missed my deadlines, and they fired me all because of your idiotic advice to draw while sleeping."

"Juan, you're really an idiot," I said, "that's not what I meant."

"No, you're the one who's more than twice an idiot for not explaining clearly to an idiot," he countered forcefully.

"Nevertheless, you see those painters painting the beautiful scenery of the park?" I asked Juan as I pointed at the painters that dotted the park’s every corner.

He looked at me with inquiring eyes, then he said, "So …?"

"They are all wide awake," I said. "They get their inspirations and paint from what they see in the park."

"But I was sleeping," Juan said.

"Precisely," I said as I waved my finger at him, "you should get your inspirations from what you perceive in your weird dreams while you're sleeping, afterward when you wake up you draw your dreams. You also will get a good night sleep and you are also well rested."

Juan just scratched his head due to the convoluted logic of my explanation. "So, that's what you meant by drawing while sleeping … it sucks," he said, disgusted. Then he asked, "But what about Maria?"

"About her," I said with a smile, "I dream of her every time I want to draw a beautiful girl, she's my inspiration."

"Now I know why most of your beautiful drawings of girls all look like her," Juan said smiling but with a knowing mischievous look on his face.

"Let's go back to Tomadors' Tavern and you explain to Maria my dreams about her," I said, "and also to celebrate with 'agua de pataranta' our idiocy."

We were laughing while we were on our way to Tomadors.' Actually, we were laughing at the idiocy of those artists who don't know how to draw while they're sleeping.

"Bwahahaha ..."