Category: Fragments of My Dreams

May 1 – Somewhere in my Dreamland – Day

I gather that I must be a small fry inside a battle ship.  It does not take long for me to realize that my work revolves around cleaning and filing.  A kind of small fry that everyone knows (when they need something) yet nobody sees (when I need someone to talk to).  It also does not take long for me to recognize that I have this platonic admiration towards the ship commander – a fine slender fair lady with a face of an angel and a gaze that says nothing (when I busy thinking) yet says it all (when I stop thinking).

I think I am happy working in that ship.  The job is manageable and now that the ship is docked at a small town by the sea, we stay at a modern oriental hotel that adjoins a hospital.  I gather that it must be wartime because from time to time, I see injured soldiers carried into the hospital.  Some with half the body gone screaming in pain.  I hear that there is a plague going on too.  Outside.  Somewhere out there.

It is a different world inside the hotel.  There is not much work at the ship as we are awaiting for further instructions from the Empire.  Hence, there are lots of social gatherings – at the lobby and at our own bedrooms.  How strange it is that on one side of the building – the hotel – there is romance and life in the air.  On the other side of the building – the hospital – there is despair and death at every corner.

One day, we are summoned by our ship commander for a briefing on a recent re-org.  A re-org directive from the Empire?!  I miss the briefing and bump into the commander at one corner of the deck later the day.  She – more human than ever – appears to talk to me (or to herself?) and says, “Can you believe it?  I belong to the same rank as the map readers and the navigators in this new re-org.  A rank 3?!”.

She sighs and I dare not ask what rank 1 and 2 are, set aside where I am in this new organizational chart.

Under the Empire’s instruction, our battle ship is slated to set sail.  The war and the plague have taken the toll on the crew.  As I step inside the ship, there are hardly any people left.  Instead, the ghosts of the dead have returned and carry on their assigned duties, as it was in the good old days.  The ship has to return to battle.  And soon, there will only be ghosts left inside.

May 2 – Also Somewhere in my Dreamland – Night

I gather that I must be a student, in black uniform.  It does not take long for me to realize that I do have friends whom I hang out with often.  I have no clue which century I am at as I rely on my horse to get from A to B.  We study in the evening, with burning candles.  There is a big gig in the Capital, at a stadium, and all the citizens will be there to attain an event with such a grandeur.  Posters and flyers are everywhere.

Days ago I asked my best friend if he wished to go and he said no.  I kept asking each day and the reply has stayed the same.  Today, it is too late to start the journey to the Capital for we both stay somewhere far away.

I hear horse steps outside my house, and then silence.  Greeted at my doorway are my best friend and another two friends of mine – a boy and a girl.  “Grab your horse and let’s go!” my best friend exclaims.

“But we are too late for the gig!” I replies.

Before I can protest, I am dragged out of my own home and he hands me my horse and says, “Follow me”.

Four of us ride through the woodland and in an unexpected opening, I see a small plane.

“A plane,” I inquire.  “That’s right.  Take your horse with you too.  We can all fit into that plane.”  “Who’s flying,” I ask.  “You,” he replies.

Ya right.  I know nothing about flying the plane.  Miraculously, all four of us together with our horses manage to squeeze into the small plane and absurd as it sounds, I am at the pilot seat.

The first thought that comes into my mind is that I should have played a flight simulator game at least once in my life (which century am I in again that has computer games?!).

Through some random pressing of buttons and some instinct with a large portion of luck, the plane takes off.  Everybody is screaming in joy.  Yes, we are going to make it to the gig of the year!

As our plane circles around the well lit stadium (by what, torch fire?), we see the crowd cheering for us.  Now, how the heck do I land this thing?!  But before I can worry about landing, the entire plane has gone dead.  It has lost all its power and is plunging towards the ground.

Strangely, no one seems scared.  At that very moment, so close to death, there is a sense of serenity.  We are all smiling (except me perhaps who is still trying to resurrect the plane).  Time seems to have frozen.  For all we know, we are all dead inside the plane as life and death fades in and out of each other.

We fall, and fall.

And at the last moment, the plane jerks into motion.  I grab the handle and the last thing in my mind is …

I will play a flight simulator game at least once when I wake up from this dream.

I woke up, which ironically was exactly when I fell asleep in reality, and I was dressed in my dark executive suit, white shirt, with a pair of dark trousers.  Somehow, I knew today was supposed to be an important day.  There was this sense of anticipation as my front door open.  And I remembered.  Today was the day to meet my kids for the first time!  I had not had children before in my entire life.  And that truthful reality curiously extended into my dream.  I felt so excited.  My first time as a father!

As the shining light of the morning sun beamed into my house, I saw six children at my doorstep – a pair of girls in early teens, a pair of boys not older than 5, and two toddlers.  Vaguely in the background I saw a woman with a face I could not remember of.  6 kids!  That feeling was so overwhelming.  I was a dad!  For the first time!  A sudden sense of pride and responsibility descended upon me.  The feeling was so surreal, so in my face.

But, wait a minute.  Where did the kids come from?  Even in my ecstatic state I could not help but to analyse the situation using logic.  Even in my dreamy state I knew I could not have impregnated any of of past encounters that many times.  6 kids!  Where did you all come from?

I could have married a divorce, yes?  They could be from an orphanage, yes?  Or I could have inherited them from one of my friends or distant family, yes?  My frustration in finding an answer was overshadowed by my joy, the joy of being a dad to 6 kids.  I was a dad, can you believe it?!

I always thought I prefer girls but I found it hard to connect to my daughters.  They just didn’t want to talk to me.  Give it time, I thought to myself.  The pair of boys on the other hands readily accepted me as their dad.  They hugged me and demanded me to bath them every night, which was nice.  I did not have much recollection of the pair of toddlers.

Work had been crazy.  I was given this impossible task as a trainer to train the internal staff on the topic of … oh well, I didn’t even want to talk about it.  The bulletin had been circulated for a while and I doubted if there were many who would turn up.  And I was right.  The theatre was half occupied.  In my trembling voice, I greeted the audience and continued, “Today’s topic is …”  I paused, looked at the direction of my boss at the front row, and he mouthed the title of the training in a part encouraging part humiliating manner.  “… Functional Usage,” I continued.

Then I flashed the slides onto the big screen and there was a mathematical formula.  I stared at the formula as though it was the first time seeing it (and it was indeed the first time I saw it).  On the left of the equation looked like the time available to us individual in a daily fashion.  On the right was a whole list of components.  The first item being the time we had to set aside for the security measures against terrorism.  Ah, I saw the connection here.  It must be some sort of time management training course.  What century in the future was I at?!  That mankind had to set aside time to go through the security measures, daily?  How sad!  Once I grasped the essence of what the equation was about, I had this sudden dose of confidence and my consulting skill kicked in (apparently my skills in real life extends to my dreams as well).  I began to talk about terrorism and the need to better manage our time.

Speaking of time management, I had this longing to go home as soon as I could, to see my kids, especially my two boys.

I am with my wife and we have won a ticket the latest Mass Rapid Transport (MRT) ride that circled around a new theme park. Is it a theme park? Perhaps it is an integrated resort instead.

I am not that excited but my wife is. It is just a MRT ride, no? We head to the station and the public announcement has been incessantly reminding us when the train will depart.

We are running. Trying our best to catch the train. And we both want the 1st cabin having the view all by ourselves.

But it doesn’t really matter. As the train gains speed, its interior starts to turn … transparent. Before long, the entire train has turned transparent. We find ourselves travelling at a high speed admiring the scenery around us.

The road is dark and at one point, the train stops. We see a sign on the road to the left saying: Formula One! Strangely, all the cars are like in the old days. Ancient design. The train regains its speed and we feel as though we are on the Formula One track admiring the ancient city.

At the destination, we disembark and head to a model home. Totally futuristic. To effectively illustrate what is inside, the walls are transparent too. Awesome!

Suddenly I remember my mission. I need to talk to the CEO of the resort. That is why I have “won” a ticket to take this state of art train. And I fail to do so.

Weeks later, I call that travel agency wanting to repeat that wonderful experience of mine. This time, alone. An attractive lady with black hair promptly be my guide and instead of taking a train ride, I am inside a flying machine hoovering over this integrated resort. I watch the TV on board and it is showing some future disasters. Halfway through the tour, I am interrupted. The attractive lady tells me that I have to return home now. I protest knowing that there are much to see. “Sorry,” she said, “The reason why you are on these free rides is because you need to talk to this CEO. Looks like you are not going to do it this time either. He is not free today.”

Beyond my control, this episode I have with this attractive lady with black hair has turned into some kind of a street gossip. People are whispering, fabricating secrets. Journalists want to dig in and find dirt from this exclusive tour I have had. Soon my wife will know about it. What shall I do? What else can I do? And what am I suppose to talk to the CEO anyway?!

Note: This is a real dream of mine. How much can you decipher?

I visit this village. Somewhat backward. There are huts and the roads are made of wood. I meet this girl and I want to take her to my world. And guess what? She has a pet. This pet is no ordinary pet. It is a small dinosaur with sharp teeth and claws. It sends a chill down my spine every time I see it.

I take this girl into my world through the modern corridors (I have seen these corridors before in my another dream with round shape glass coating overhead) and I tell her that I have a dentist appointment. But I won’t be late for the Valentine celebration, I swear.

I have to keep that dinosaur pet in my home and how scary it is to keep it in the upper deck of my bed! Its claws are really sharp. I ain’t kidding. Later on, I have changed my mind. I keep it at the balcony outside the window instead.

I see my dentist and he does some preliminary inspection on my teeth. He marks 8 teeth to be fixed. He administrates some anesthetics to my gum and does some knocking at some of my teeth.

“Oops, it’s lunch time. Why don’t you carry on?” says my dentist.

I am puzzled. What am I supposed to do? Somehow I remember which are the 8 teeth that need fixing. I pull them out one by one. Some come clean while others leave pieces of bones inside my jaw. Nothing I can’t handle.

When I meet my dentist after lunch with 8 missing teeth, I ask, “Is this necessary?”. He hesitates and my friends (must be like 10 of them suddenly appear from the background) scream, “This is a scam!”.

Too late. My dentist says, “Introducing ‘Sensitive Teeth!’ … I am going to replace your teeth with these”.

I look at what he has got and he has a set of artificial teeth with him just like my natural ones.

He continues, “These will replace what you have got and will dissolve as time goes by!” But why would I want a temporary solution? My friends say, “You are replacing your good set of teeth with some temporary ones!”.

“Is it true?” I demand.

My dentist hesitates and continues to mix a concoction of what it seems like a strong glue. He is gluing those artificial teeth into my jaw! I can feel the glue on the side of my inner cheek. Yuck!

I am with much regret. Why did I give up my 8 good teeth? I am sure there is a way to make them good than to pull them out. I confronted my dentist, “So this is how you have repeated business? Giving patients temporary teeth that won’t last and have them coming back again and again?”. He kept making apologies.

By now, I am too late to reverse my decision. This dentist appointment is taking much longer than it is supposed to be. I am too late to feed the tiny dinosaur that must be very hungry by now. And I am too late to meet this girl of mine whom I promise to see her as soon as I can. Before I realise, it is no longer Valentine. Today is Easter Sunday.

Note: This is a real dream of mine. How much can you decipher?

I am a spy and together with my team, we infiltrate a high-rise government building that belongs to one of our neighbours. The nature of this building is not known to me. What is our neighbour’s building doing in the land of our country? I do not know. I am new to this job and most of the time I follow my supervisor. This government building must be covered in glass panels. I rarely get to see that. In fact, most of the time, we are hiding inside one room underground that our neighbouring country does not even know it exists. There are computers inside, together with all the high tech equipment. We joke with one another inside this room and we do a lot of silly things inside to pass time. As told by my supervisor, we have paid millions to have this room added during the construction of the building without letting anybody knows about it but us.

In one of our routine spying mission, we venture out of our secret room and into a large dark room to gather information. Out of extraordinary, I have seen Andrew, one of my teammates, reappears from nowhere while talking in his wireless phone. All of a sudden, my supervisor alerts my team of a potential exposure and true enough, I see a figure appears round the corner at the far end of the long corridor.

“The Keyfinder is here!” screams my supervisor. We all run along the long corridors and into our secret room. I have a quick glance at the Keyfinder and he wears a costume of red and blue. Behind him is a troop of military with guns ready to shoot us to death. A Keyfinder, from what I remember, is someone who knows every single room of the building by heart.

We barely make it in time and my supervisor activates the button to seal off the door permanently and makes it disappear for good. A huge slab of steel falls upon the closed door making it impossible to be reopened again. My supervisor screams, “Run!” and we all run for our life.

I have a nagging feeling that Andrew is the mole. I punch in the request at my high tech watch to do a call trace on Andrew’s phone just seconds before we were spotted by the Keyfinder.

As we emerge from the tunnels and corridors of darkness, we must be high up in the building. My supervisor opens the glass panels and below, I see a line that connects this building with the next. I feel the wind from outside. We walk gingerly along the wire and I try not to look down (though I am thrilled by finally able to see outdoors after ages of living inside a basement). We must be on the 50th floor. After some acrobatic moves, we arrive safely to another high-rise building just opposite from that building we used to camp for weeks.

We are safe. At least from the Keyfinder. These foreign agents cannot hurt us out of their domain. At night, inside Chinatown, I meet my supervisor and tell him all about Andrew. He tells me that it is common to have a mole in our team. And he bets Andrew gets 23-million dollars like the rest before him and he should have by now left our country for good.

This, is not fair. We have lost that room forever. What are we going to do?

Note: This is a real dream of mine. How much can you decipher?