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?