Joined in bed. Well, dreams, actually…

June 2, 2008 at 12:49 am | Posted in Dreams | Leave a comment
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The title doesn’t really make much sense. Well, a bit, I’ll admit. But just ignore it for now. Some time ago she dreamed of me:

In her voice:

“In my dream, I met you in Japan. You walked past my boutique everyday. We noticed each other, but never bothered to even try to get to know each other. One day I got curious, and followed you, to the grocer you went to every day, to see what you did there…”

Back to me:

And her dream ended there. I asked her if it was in black and white, silent, a film noir dream. Wonder why I thought of it that way- it just felt right, I suppose, as if from her description, it couldn’t have been anything else. I guessed right, she said. Spot on. But hold on: wiki defines film noir as

a cinematic term used primarily to describe stylish Hollywood crime dramas, particularly those  that emphasize moral ambiguity and sexual motivation

So perhaps film noir might not be the right term. Oh well- we’ll never know. At least I guessed the setting right. I decided then that I would dream of her next. It would be a long wait, spending long hours at night thinking of her in many a futile attempt to inject her into my subconscious the way I’m buried in hers- and when exams came the challenge was banished from my memory.

And then it happened. She finally popped up one night:

“We were in school, though the environment seemed to be one of a college- we’d just stolen some shiny badges, insignias or whatever from the prefects, and felt very happy with ourselves, happily strolling along the corridors- when we saw a congregation of prefects huddled up and fretting. We got nervous. Told her to continue on the same path lest they suspect us.

Too late. One of them saw us, recognised me, broke off from the group and followed us to a spot beside a clogged drain, and demanded that I return them. I know him- he was the guy they called the discipline teacher’s ‘son’ back in school. Apologising without an iota of honesty in me, I handed him the goods (eh? seemed like there was just one- whatever lah), but before he could take it from me, it slipped from my clutch and fell into the drain. He stared at me in shock. Shrugging, I said “oops” with an awkward grin. He knelt down to pick it out of the filth, and whilst glaring at me impotently, grumbled “I really hate you.” Seemed like he was about to cry.”

There. That was it. Like most of my dreams, this one was just ridiculous. She laughed through the whole thing as I recited it to her. Oh well. I’d have preferred something more serious and deep- but this will have to do- for now.

Now, to bed again- what shall befall us next?


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