waxing lyrical @ blogspot v1 - introspection.

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Friday, June 13, 2003

I've been dreaming a lot lately. Dreams that don't quite make sense, where I wake up and think "Whoa, what the hell went on back there?"

You know it's hard remembering what you dreamt the night before, well, try remembering 3 to 4 in one night.

-sigh-

So far, happy dreams have not made much of an appearance. Which is a good thing. Because I don't wake up feeling pained and/or crushed.

Instead I get dreams where I wake up sobbing nonstop as if my heart has been torn out and nothing good can ever happen again. I can't remember what happened in that dream but it must have been something bad since I hurt so badly. In that case, would I have been better off with a happy dream?

Then there are the weird freaky dreams where actors, friends from various social circles do a great meetup in some crazy scenario. Having arguments in the middle of Toa Payoh bus interchange. Doing some obstacle course, running, climbing, sliding down tunnels filled with plastic balls, all over Woodlands.

And there's the one that takes the cake. Where I meet up with my IRC mate, Huang Shinan (Pan Lingling's husband, the guy who named his son Beckham) and ending up at Cityhall MRT (which looks nothing like what it's supposed to look like), with me supposedly waiting for Wanjing to arrive but instead find that Lifang is back from UK (2 days earlier than I expected) and leaving in 2 days time. There's more.

Add in a couple more people and we're off to Sophia's (?) place which happens to be in the same building as Neini's and apparently a war is going on so we have to cross this great divide thing to go on the other side so that we'll be safe! I see Stephanie (huh?) and Jenny (?!) urging us to move fast before it's too late and all too soon, too late has arrived. We hide and try not to be seen by lying flat on the ground but somehow or another bullets start flying and I used a cushion to avoid getting shot, then this unidentified girl took a couple of shots and dies in front of me. Bullets fly through the cushion and grazed me so I see blood.

Then I wake.

Talk about having an overactive imagination.

All I ask for tonight, is a nice peaceful sleep without all the action please.

00:52 |

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