Category: dreams

Kopi-C Peng With Love

I lied. I said I’ll write more, but so many things happened since my last post, and I couldn’t muster enough energy to put my thoughts and emotions into words. Or maybe I just didn’t want to. Words elude me when sadness overwhelms, and all I want to do is just to run and hide.

I dreamed of a 20-foot  Sandman who was chasing me everywhere. No matter how far I run, he’d still get to me. Friends and family tried to protect me by allowing me to build secret passageways underneath their living quarters, and eventually I managed to create a maze of an underground passage that led me to somewhere ‘safe’ where I didn’t think he’d thought to look for me. That morning when he came for me, I ran and ran until I got there, and there it was– a small poorly vented underground room that was once a prisoner’s cell long ago and had now been abandoned. The self in my dream was quite smug for finally outrunning Sandman, but that smugness lasted about 2 seconds- I remembered, then and there, that while I was tucked away safely in this cell, Sandman would still be looking, and I knew how relentless he could be. What would happen (or rather, had happened) to those people who partook in hiding me?! Sandman didn’t look like a compassionate thing that would allow any accomplice to get away. I knew then, that I was responsible for that, and there was nothing I could do about it. It’s too late; I had blood on my hands. There was no such thing as safety; sooner or later Sandman would get me. I couldn’t stop crying, and all I want to do was to undo everything. But there was no chance for that- I woke up, covered in tears and snot.

Such a morbid dream; so much to unpack from that stream of subconsciousness. Grandma passed away four months and a week ago, and I’m still coming to terms with it. Early on, my mind kept replaying all the memories I had with her, and I couldn’t help but think that I’d never have the chance to create more memories with her anymore. I selfishly wanted more time with her. I was going to go home for Chinese New Year next year! Why now? Why so soon?! Then it hit me- how hypocritical I was, for saying I wanted more time with her. How was I going to do that when I’m all the way here in another country thousands of miles away?! Going home once every few years does not cut it. Just like that, my anger on whoever it was from the Otherworld who took her away from me, and my regret, turned into guilt. And guilt–is the worst feeling of all. The early days just after her passing were filled with spurts of lacrimation fest, of which faucet I had almost no control over (at least I could stop self from doing that when around people).

It got better over time. Work kept me busy, so I didn’t have to think about it too much, or at all. The daily hum-drum became a soothing balm, and if work wasn’t enough to tire me out, there’s always the endless TV shows that I could turn to to numb me up.  I was doing quite a good job at that until about a month ago. It was just another day not unlike any other, except I incidentally found out about a dear friend’s tragic and unexpected demise. To say I was in shock was an understatement. How could a seemingly healthy person just suddenly be dead? I just saw him a little over a year ago and had a great catch-up session after 8 years of not seeing each other. I have questions, but none of which would ever be answered. They probably didn’t matter anyway.

Death has a way of reaching inside and squeezing the life out of you, figuratively (and perhaps also literally). I was deeply shaken, and for the first time in months, I saw how I was not-living. I thought I was doing fine after Grandma passed away, but in truth I sealed off a part of me, and was going through the motions of living without really doing so. Grandma wouldn’t have wanted me to live like this, nor my friend. This was a wake-up call; I have to do better. So here I am, writing about this, cherishing all the memories I’ve had with them, and letting all the emotions wash over me. Tonight, I’ll sip on Kopi-C Peng – Grandma’s favorite beverage – and just, feel. Sandman will always be after me (us), whether I like it or not. If it’s futile to run away, why not just live every day like it’s the last?

The Girl

It was a rainy day but she needed to get out. Nothing could stop her, not the thunder or lightning, or flash flood warning texts. It was that kind of day.

On days like those, her yellow boots seemed to have a life of their own, and so off they went, taking her on a path that she had never come across. But she could hardly care. Or maybe she didn’t even notice. If every thought process, every neuronal activity makes a sound, you’d hear the cacophony of clicks, buzz, and ticks inside that skull, going a little overboard not unlike the time machine that had gone wrong and trying its very best not to explode. Why is all this happening, she thought. She wanted answers. She needed to talk to a friend.

And just like that, she took charge of her path again, finding her way to the coffee shop. It’s a hidden gem, on the second floor of an old mansion with a flight of stairs on the right, while the left side of the house was rented to an old tailor. Skipping her way up the stairs, turning right, zig-zagging past all the tables with very chatty customers talking over the soothing 20s’ jazzy background music, and not really bothered to only step on the white squares on the floor, something she usually did when she wasn’t in this harrowing mood. A dose of bff-pep-talk will make it go away, she mused, crossing the common area, turning left into the corridor with private rooms on both sides, and through the double doors into the kitchen, where her friend was helping her mom making coffee and toasts. Business has always been great, but it’s even better when it’s gloomy or pouring outside.

The relief of finding her friend lasted about as long as two milliseconds, which instantly evaporated when she caught a glimpse of her. Another two minutes into the conversation and she found that she couldn’t possibly burden her friend with her problems when her best friend was having her own crisis as well. After helping out in the kitchen for about an hour, she excused herself, after giving her friend a hug and promising to call later to talk more.

So much for talking to a friend. Outside the color of the sky matched her own dark clouds looming above her head. Again she took off wandering the streets until she chanced upon to a man who seemed like he was expecting her. Out of curiosity, she asked if he knew her. “Come, girl, I want to show you something,” he replied. Usually she wouldn’t have agreed to that. But it wasn’t a usual day, so she followed his lead. A few broken and battered paths away, there they stood, in front of a misplaced apple-green-turquoise minivan with huge floral patterns on it, one that looked like it got teleported from the 60s. To her surprise, the van was like Doctor Who’s blue police box, only it wasn’t just that. Inside was an entire world of itself. But there was something odd about it. Soon she realized it was a spaceship that was about to take off. And to accommodate as many passengers as possible, everyone had only a tiny caged space slightly taller than the height of a coffin. They were all stacked in twos, and the entire place was jam-packed with rows and rows of caged bunk-beds.

The man led her to her space, with her name labeled on it, and he left without any explanation. She was speechless. Were they expecting her? Why? Where were they going? She never signed up for anything! Was this a punishment for being pathetic? Were all sad and lost souls to be sent off to a faraway prison? So many questions! She didn’t have energy to find or ask the man, though. So resentfully she climbed into her space on all fours, and lean against the bars, observing others.  Soon enough she realized, the others weren’t forced to do this! They actually looked excited, preoccupied with their handheld devices, perhaps thinking this was some exploratory expedition to outer space or something. Was it?

She had no clue. All she knew was that she’s tired, and she just wanted all this to go away. Disappear. She wanted to disappear. Can the ground crack open and swallow her whole? If she closed her eyes long enough, maybe it would happen.

After a long, long while, what felt like an eternity of denial and refusing to face reality, she opened her eyes. And there she was. On her own bed. Alarm clock next to her bed blinked 03:38. A nightmare. It was all a dream. Felt real though. What bizarre subconsciousness has she been suppressing that had to resurface as such in the dream?

More questions. But at least this time, she didn’t have to fear being deported into an unknown space while she pondered upon the message of the dream.

Untitled #3

140 characters isn’t enough to let me purge my thoughts. It’s funny- I told myself I wasn’t going to blog until I’m done with exams and school, but I find myself keep coming back here. Then again each time I’m done writing though, it always gets deleted. Off to trash it goes, for fear that the content may be a little too sensitive or inappropriate to share on the blogosphere. Some things are better left unwritten, at least until I’m completely done with school.

One more exam to go and I’ll be done. I hope. The accreditation board is taking its own sweet time to get back to us, and it’s driving everyone nuts.

Every time when exams are near and I’m a little stressed, I have weird dreams. Dreamt that birds kept flying into my parents’ bedroom, which is the master bedroom that faces the street/front yard, but whose windows were wide open- with no grills (which isn’t the case at all in real life). Brother and I would catch them and throw them out of the window but these persistent little things kept flying back! Each of them is like a freakin’ boomerang coming back at us. Fine. I’ll close the windows then. I thought I’d outsmart them this time, but no- somehow mom left the middle bottom window panel opened, and through that small window, one of them managed to fly in! -___-||  And guess what? I happened to be standing right in front of it, and the bird flew right at me and got stuck at my throat. Whether I got injured or died from bleeding/asphyxiation due to the beak-tracheostomy was unbeknownst to me- I was too grossed out that I woke up.

Part two of that bird craziness. Yet another dream: Whoever’s dumb idea to put a tall thin 2-meter wooden stick right in front of our house, I do not know. It’s something akin to the beanstalk from Jack and the Beanstalk (and no I haven’t been watching/reading/thinking about that story of late), except it’s only 2 meters, and at the top of it laid a bird’s nest. Someone decided that putting a nest there would serve as a decoy, and the birds would stop flying into the bedroom. It worked alright for a while, but the birds just wouldn’t leave! So what did the someone do? Someone decided to fatten up the birds so that they’d grow so fat, so much so that they couldn’t balance themselves (in the nest) on the beanstalk, and fell– all the way from 2 meters off the ground. Splatttt! And died. One by one. Mission to rid the birds: success! End of dream.

Ohmygod I don’t know what kind of dream that was, but it sure was stupid, nonsensical, and morbid. And yet, I couldn’t stop laughing- in my dream.

Sometimes I think I need to get my brain checked.
Please do not judge me for having these kinds of dreams. I have absolutely no control over them.
Believe me when I say I’d never hurt a snail let alone a bird, in real life. But why on earth would my dreams be so crazy, trust me I’m just as baffled!

That’s all for now. Happy Sunday peeps!

Distracted

summer break is so close i can almost taste it. i’ve drawn up big plans of what to do, which books to read, who to meet, where to go, etc. and i just can’t waitttt!!!!! omg i’m so excited excited excited!  but why do exams always have to be on the last day of school? this thing that is between me and my freedom is killing me! i’ll be looking at my textbook and lecture slides but the mind is at the beach, curling up in bed enjoying a book, having good coffee good conversations with friends, sipping pina colada and enjoying the seabreeze… the list goes on.

… and then somehow i’m at a clinic with Mal and she points to the highly distended jugular veins of this lady lying on the exam bench, and she struggles to breathe, she’s turning blue, she reaches out to us and i see fear in her eyes. we’re supposed to do something but we don’t know what. shit shit shit that lady’s gonna die if we don’t do something about it what can we do, what should we give her, what drugs what drugs, beta blocker? ACE-I? wait or is it diuretics first? omg omg omg. the sudden panic attack brought me back to real life, and oh thank goodness that was only a dream. phewwwwww! ok i guess that’s a wake-up call to go study. no more falling asleep or dreaming about summer break! focus woman!

The Chicken Residency

Every now and then, I will dream of some bizarre, out-of-the-world stuff. This afternoon nap was one of such occasions.

Plot:
I was in a car with some friends on our little expedition of treasure hunt when the heavens opened up and poured gallons of water like there’s no tomorrow. Reluctant to just stop somewhere and wait it out – God knows how long we had to wait – we kept on driving wherever the road would take us. When we finally came to a stop, the sky was clear, and all of us got out of the car for some breather. To our right was an abandoned construction site, and not too far ahead was a tiny path that seemed used, leading to somewhere obscured by the abandoned building. Out of curiosity, I walked along that path, and it led me to an enchanted world of animated objects, which both befuddled and tickled me at the same time.

A few hundred yards down the path, I began to see signs of liveliness, something completely opposite of what I saw outside. Indeed, more than that, I saw rows of dancing, singing apartment buildings painted in solid vibrant colors. They looked more like town houses, or semi-D’s, actually, but they were all moving and swaying with the background music all the same. Awestricken, I continued walking down the path, not caring if my fellow travelers were with me. Just as I was wondering if I’d bump into anyone, a house full of chickens came out to greet me as if I were an old friend of theirs. I went along with it, careful not to offend them by saying things like “uh do I know you” or “have we met”. Just as I was about to enter the Chicken Residency, there was a poke behind, and I was greeted by an elderly chicken name Doc. Doc came over to me and hugged me, yakking away about things I know as much as I know about the different types of flowers (read: nothing at all, or very little). From the way he walked and talked, Doc seemed to be the head of the household, or someone very important. So when Doc invited me to stay for the night, I accepted. Then came the Butler Chicken, who brought me my meal – oh nice, I get to eat! I opened up my polystyrene box, and guess what was my dinner? Chicken Rice. CHICKEN RICE!!!! Of all things!! The irony of it all.

Here’s the better (more bizarre) part. I proceeded to eat my chicken rice, wondering why, of all things, I was served their own kind. Out popped a tiny man in my chicken rice yelling at me, asking me to rescue him!! This miniature man that smelled like soy sauce popped out of nowhere in my box, flailed his arms to catch my attention and said to me, “help! help!” I couldn’t help but asked him how on earth did he appear in my box of rice. “Well, look, don’t tell anyone, but the cucumber slices are actually my port key. Here, let me show you how it works.” ……

End of dream. I woke up wondering what happened to the mini-soy-sauce-smelling-man. But hey, don’t you think this is a little similar to the Frog and the Princess! Haha this could very well be the Oriental version of it, and maybe, it could even be a potential Disney hit! 😀  Anyway, here’s a sketch of how Doc looked like. (I had no paper so I drew it at the back of an envelope). Enjoy. 🙂