It's strange, but all the travelling seems to have melded into my brain, such that now I live a non-stop backpacking nightmare that fills both my day and nightscape. These nights, I either go blank, or dream about very mundane travelling stuff - things like missing my flight, forgetting a transit, fumbling over foreign small change (why should Two Pence be so much larger than Twenty Pence??).
Among other things, to cover up the remains of an imploding heart for weeks and weeks is tough shit. Apart from Toilet and Bath, I'm never alone lately. Need some room and good sleep soon.
EDIT: yet another insanely BORING dream about hostel life! AHHHHHH
My dad found an offer for SGD50 air ticket to Sweden so he basically marched the entire family down to Jonkoping to make sure I'm not dead.
Jonkoping was this ghetto place with dirt-smeared pastel yellow walls and poorly laid concrete lanes.
I was posted to Delta House, and had a room on the 5th floor with a window (basically a square cut-out on a solid cement wall) overlooking a construction site. The scaffolding lies less than a metre away, and I was breathing in all the musty brown smells of ground and cement.
Next to my room was the common kitchen. There were a couple of tall and big-sized angmohs stirring beer in a huge metal basin over a slow fire. They didn't look at me. I'm a new inhabitant. They don't know me. I'm shy.
My dad was furious to see the living conditions. He insisted that I be posted to Grashagen instead, where there are rooms suitable for family units. We are gonna stay with you. We insist.
I met Waileng on the street so we went to a hawker centre because she was craving for 酿豆腐.
[How much of this reflects reality, I don't know. But it's been a while since I've had one without fantastical elements o.o think this Sweden thing is taking over my mind.]
You know how some songs would play in a mini-movie in your head? Especially when you're plugged in securely to your mp3 player (with white-noise cancellation plus black, airtight and shit-ugly rubber bungs) and the song just fills your head.
And when you're half dead on your way to Bedok. At seven in the morning.
Someday he'll come along The man I love And he'll be big and strong The man I love And when he comes my way I'll do my best to make him stay
He'll look at me and smile I'll understand And in a little while He'll take my hand And though it seems absurd I know we both won't say a word
There's a possibility that it might evoke images of the wistful dame, but at that time, under those circumstances, what I saw:
makeshift storyboard
Someday he'll come along The man I love
And he'll be big and strong The man I love
(Muscular Man walking innocently along the street. Emphasis on his twitching biceps.)
And when he comes my way I'll do my best to make him stay
(Psychotic Female puts a sack over him and kidnaps him. Muscular Man struggles but is knocked out by pungent smell of old potatoes.)
[Cut to an abandoned factory. Muscular Man is bound on a chair. Psychotic Female walks into the frame]
He'll look at me and smile I'll understand
(Shit terrified eyes of Muscular Man. A bead of sweat rolls off his eyebrow. Psychotic Female smiles at him.)
And in a little while He'll take my hand
(She saws off his arm and cuddles it. *omgwtfbbq*) And though it seems absurd I know we both won't say a word
(Muscular Man dies of overbleeding. Psychotic Female puts one finger to his lips and one to hers.)
and I am ALL COOL except that I'm squatting on the toilet bowl and some strange girl is trying to break down my cubicle door which doesn't have a lock and the door is all jelly-like and wobbles and I don't want to let her in.
The strange girl is tanned and has two braids. She slips a pile of newspapers through the wobbling door.
Danger. I snap my fingers and set the pile on fire. It withers up in a sprinkle (yes, sprinkle) of squealing ashes and green flames.
I've got fire.
(YAY. I GET TO PLAY WITH FIRE.)
(I spent the rest of the dream just setting random things on fire.)
I was stuck on the bonnet of a red Honda and there was this huge snow leopard circling me. In a truly FML-fashion I happened to be late for a movie. A $10 weekend ticket, no less.
So I threw out slabs of penguin meat, which were ignored. Too much fur on penguins, he said. Give me your arm. Just your arm and you can go watch your movie.
(I need more hair on my arms.)
Okay lor, I thought. Since I won't need it later. Would it hurt?
He stares at me. Probably ten minutes or so. Don't worry, you'd still enjoy the movie.
Would it grow back?
Maybe.
So I gave up my right arm. The snow leopard rolled over like a kitten and gave the most disgustingly adorable kitty eyes look. It held out a paw and I shook it with my other arm.
Buh-bye.
I wriggled my right stump and willed a new arm to grow. It did but it came out muscular and hairy as hell.
