Dream was strange just now. I was in my girlfriend’s apartment in a divided city like Hong Kong in that there were two physical, distinct parts to it. Anyway, the apartment itself was strange in that it was also divided into two distinct parts connected by a horizontal travelator. I remember my girlfriend being there but she was going out with friends and then my mate being there asking me why it was separated that way. He asked why it was laid out like a terminal, which I countered that it wasn’t…

… which morphed into a terminal with airline and ground staff with a suitably rousing song that even CX could be proud of. Except that it was for Malaysian Airlines (derisive snort from the Singaporeans in my dream).

The dream was weird but wouldn’t it be cool to have an apartment separated by a traveletor?

First segment was me riding a scooter. Yep, I hate automatic bikes but this particular scooter was rigged to have an exceptionally high visor that blocked your view, forcing you to crane over the top. The segment ended with me on this scooter chasing a similar scooter up a ramp in an abandoned car park which felt like it was in London. My fear of Quadrephenia perhaps?

I guess the visor being blacked out symbolized my own inability to see the future and economically, a scooter is less than a bike. The chase just represented the chase for economic stability and freedom. It’s all a game.

The second segment featured me at my girlfriend’s new apartment. That in itself is not a fearful thing. What was scary was that the TV console kept moving and being shifted around. Not quite sure what that meant. Also, ants. It seemed a legion of ants had found some spot on her carpet and I just couldn’t find the bug spray. Then she threw a party and my (well, ours now) MacBook was put outside on the balcony. Yep, you guessed it, it fell down three stories and was pretty much smashed. It’s a fear – who wouldn’t worry about the computer being destroyed utterly – but did it really manifest something greater?

The last segment was me and a toothache. My tooth was about to fall out it was so painful. There were other elements to this segment but I can’t remember them clearly. It is probably because when I woke up this morning and brushed my teeth, I did draw blood and one tooth did ache a little. It’s still there but I really need to go see a dentist soon.

Next I found myself shifted to London.

There was an impression of a certainty that I had actually started the traditional route I use to go the airport from Finchley to Heathrow and that I had embarked in a car. In spite of this and the need for haste, I ended up at the entrance to Finchley Road underground station. Walking down Finchley Road towards Swiss Cottage, I found myself wondering why I needed to walk it when I had arrived at the start of this segment of the journey on a perfectly good motorbike. I think the ludicrousness topped out when I ended up at the destination I was trying to reach to but, on account of not having parked my bike properly, back-tracked up the length of Finchley Road.

For some reason, I had actually ended up back to where my dream thought I needed to be. (There was some crazy computer game type of riding simulation in the dream but it remains vague as to how this fit into everything else). The only thing about the destination where I was at (a mixture of a train station like Waterloo and a crappy airport terminal like Gatwick), was that it was in-town and nowhere near where I wanted to be. My growing frustration was not helped by me running around trying to figure out how, in the space of a really short space of time, I would catch my flight.

I had met someone I knew and asked them for help. Yet they hadn’t offered any help whatsoever to my predicament. When we were 10 minutes out from the deadline (yes, it felt like a deadline), they came back to me and did have a solution – their much touted direct train ride to from that place and the airport (you guessed it – it takes just 10 minutes). I think the person was giving me a object lesson in being late and even the new train service could help you.

The dream cut to me being inside the aircraft. Oddly enough, it was a transit flight so some people were already on-board. There was an announcement for First Class travelers although I saw it as strange since my girlfriend and I were on the foremost seats possible and they were business. My seat was a mess and it looked like no-one had actually cleaned it for the next stage of the aircraft’s journey. My dissatisfaction was increased when some jokey had taken my girlfriend’s seat and refused to move for the take-off. I was about to offer my own seat to her and show the guy the emergency exit face first when I did manage to wake-up.

The dream’s aftertaste was reminiscing about Maida Vale in the UK and how my parents and I almost got an apartment there. It wasn’t big enough so ended up not being where did eventually end up in Finchley. I think part of the reason was that it afforded my father a more convenient location for the airport. This morning has been a sunny one and a nice breeze is coming through my girlfriends’ large windows. The wind, the lighting and the relaxed nature of the morning since the dream evokes reminders of Maida Vale’s compact gardens and green boulevards.

Baby and kids.
In any case, we ended up in some wooded American wild west town, Instead of having dinner, our family decided not to have any money. So under the pretext of moving on to the next town for dinner, we were making a run for it. The mayor of course wasn’t having any of it, so we ended up retreating back into the town which was strangely deserted. This was because he was slowly setting fire to the town. We ended up in his own residence. Which was strangely modern, having a pool and a lovely view of the ocean. Only thing is that the weather took a turn for the worse and flash over to us and models on a big tanker taken tsunami sized waves. Vertical lists it was certainly a rush of a lifetime. Strangely, with these size waves, you’d think the sheriff would be done for and that we’d moved along quite for a la noah. But instead we were happily going down a street in the tow we were escaping.

Damned beautiful sunset.

Then last night it was about my ex from my longest relationship. Something about not remembering her birthday or something. Which was strange because I do remember it. It’s September 30th, the day we incorporated Angelix. Duh. What’s she harping on about then? So typical of her…

So I wonder which ex has it in store for me tonight. I hope it’s Eve because even if she’s giving me a hard time, she’s rather pleasant about it.

The visual imagery was like watching an old silent movie in the 1920′s or something. I was in an old biplane and I had the sense that the timings were just after the emperor’s coronation in Japan, over who’s country we were flying. (Oo-er…a Watson style moment of writing there). These old bi-planes had two seats although on this occassion we had managed to cram in three folks – the pilot, the blonde haired 20′s starlet, and myself. I’m not sure how the subject came up, one is never sure about these things, but the pilot made reference to the fact that the plane had a cigarette lighter that heated itself from the engine. I was so impressed with that I lit up a cigarette. I was even more impressed when he told me the ashtrays were designed with pearl.

Although I don’t get cravings that much anymore, I could feel the smoke satisfyingly fill my lungs. Thankfully, I woke up and the feeling of wanting a cigarette left.

I have to look into why I’m always having these dreams about planes and flight. I think I know why I was thinking about lighters. Yesterday in CitySuper I noticed some girls looking at Zippo lighters and I remarked how young they were and how important smoking used to be for me. And cleaning out my flat yesterday, I noticed the five ashtrays I’ve got in my flat that will probably never be used again. I miss the habit occassionally but usually it’s a passing thought or feeling.

Without warning, I found myself dreaming again of Louisa. My mind just dumped me in a situation where I was with her again, amidst all the negative feelings of loss that have become associated with her. In my waking state, I can deal with them since I can balance out the negative emotions with positive memories of her and thus happier emotions. It’s part of refusing to give power to things and people that can harm you (see my post about Power over You” in Meditations). Anyway, she looked a little different in that she looked older and there was a colder streak to her. Yet she had gracefully allowed me to spend time with her. Strange that, I also seemed to chase after her. I would not had I been awake.

Anyway, while she had agreed to spend time with me, she didn’t want to do anything. The dream was screaming at me that she wanted to spend time with me, yet it played out that she didn’t want to spend time with me. I just needed to convince her to find something interesting to do. Yet she kept insisting she wanted to go home. To be honest, I was bordering on the point of kidnapping. It was sort of like the real life relationship I had with her. She would say she wanted me but she would always blow hot and cold. I also think that my mind had merged her with Napa’s attitude as well, which didn’t help.

We had this argument in a street in Causeway Bay and we were sitting down for some reason. She had taken off her boots, which she looked great in. She had once worn them after an argument just to appease me. There was this guy also sitting there a little apart from us. He looked like this “b” list actor who I can’t place at the moment nor any film he’s been in. Anyway, he was fat, short although a little bulky. He looked like one of these successful financial gweilo that you see plenty of in Hong Kong (other than the chiseled poster boy ones).

Well, the discussion between Louisa and I was in English and sufficiently heated enough to attract his concern. His friend arrived that he was evidently waiting for yet he stayed back to make sure she was alright. I guess I can’t fault him. I’ve done that myself at times when I thought there might be trouble for a gal. The end came when Louisa decides to walk off (apparently listening to some suggestion I had made). He gives her a quisitive “Are you okay?” and I think she responds in some manner.

I get up to follow her but before I do so, I tell his friend, “Next time, tell your friend to mind his own business”. This goes down a treat with the guy and we have a minor confrontation in the street. No fighting but just heated words. Strange thing with this guy was that there was an association of fear of him. In my head, I had a strange feeling of having seen this guy everywhere in places like Lan Kwai Fong and therefore having established some form of connection. I still stared him down and he went off.

Lousia did come back to me and ask me what was going on. It’s here where the dream started to come apart because we found ourselves in a street in Central now. And she sort of said she knew the guy too but the vibe from her was she didn’t like him all that much. I guess more jarring than a possible ruck in my dream was the thought she knew him at all. Jealousy helped me wake from my dream, followed by a sudden after-dream emotion of intense regret.

I brought myself to full consciousness and dispelled these negative thoughts. Even though I could have slept some more, I’ve had to now wake up. The scary thought for me is that she still has power over my dreams since I’ve got relatively more control over my life since my epiphany. It’s like in the film, A Beautiful Mind, where John Nash manages to control his mind and not indulge in certain appetites. Likewise, my waking state is very much like that. Hopefully, soon, my dream state will be the same.

“Let me explain. In the way of the warrior, it is essential to do it right from root to branch. If you do not understand the root and the branch, there is no way for you to know your duty. One who does not know his duty can hardly be called a warrior.”

It is an interesting concept that the Code of the Samurai proposes. It suggests that if one does not have familial duty to one’s parents, then how can one expect loyalty from someone that does not even respect their own flesh and blood. If there is no duty expressed to those who are your root, then how can one expect it to be given strongly to someone who isn’t a part of you.

The treatise even has the foresight to suggest that those who come from difficult and bad parents, that this devotion is all the more important. It is relatively more easy to be dutiful when your parents are good, caring, and loving than when your parents don’t treat you well. This hardship, and I am not suggesting nor is the text suggesting, that this is a license to go and abuse your children. It merely says that a person who has come from a more difficult family background and yet remains dutiful as a son or a daughter, has a stronger breeding of loyalty.

A person who is disrespectful to one’s parents cannot be relied upon in situations where the chips are down.

This chapter is a tough one for me. I considered myself dutiful to my parents yet whether I have always been is a matter for debate. I’ve been at odds with my brother once for being disrespectful to my father, and sometimes when I’ve wanted to speak out against something, my mother’s explicit instructions have held me back. In this, I do consider myself dutiful.

In taking care of my parents, I don’t know whether I’ve ever had the opportunity to do so. Given my father’s success, I don’t know whether I ever will be in a situation to take care of them financially. Both my father and mother are both very strong individuals and together they are quite formidable. I doubt they would even appreciate me doting on them in any way.

Yet, in other things, I could be considered less dutiful. My mother bore the brunt of my adolesent years, and even now, as an adult, it’s hard not to fall back into the cycle of adolescent and adult. My mother, who is infallible and she always seemed so to me, always makes sure that she repeats things to me and still gives me instructions like I was a child. Perhaps I should indulge her, because it is one of her ways in showing affection to me, but I can’t help but nip back verbally occassionally. Does this mean I’m not being dutiful?

For my father, I avoid arguing with him ever since I once tried to get my own way more forcefully than using simple reason. It was a shameful realisation that I was dealing with a man who had worked his way up a multinational company, dealt with CEO’s, and had bitten back at people bigger than me that barked a lot louder too. I think I did a lot of back tracking that day and I don’t think I was feeling especially dutiful that day either.

Likewise, I have developed a certain degree of apathy to my parent’s travelling. My father travelled a lot of the time that I grew up. I remember balling my eyes out when I was younger at my father’s frequent departures. Yet as I grew to adolescence and beyond, it became so much less of concern that at times I had no idea where he was or when he was coming back. His return wasn’t met with the great excitement that I had when I was younger and just became so common place. Some people’s fathers came back every night. Mine just happened to come back in a week’s time quite frequently. I think my apathy was a self-defence mechanism to not really deal with the trauma, worry or concern of my father being away. Even now when they travel, I sometimes don’t give it a second thought.

I’m not saying that I didn’t care about my parents. I’m just saying I could have been a little more concerned about their whereabouts and their well-being if I was doing my filial duty.

I think to better understand how I love my parents and behave in a dutiful manner that is familial, one has to understand my background. For those of you who know me, I was given up, for reasons unknown to me, by my birth parents and adopted by those people who I consider now to be my parents. People ask me about my birth parents and whether I would want to find them. I always answer that I wouldn’t and that they abandoned me so that they are the ones who severed the bond so I owe them very little. Even if I did, I would do it before my parents passed away since I’ve always felt adoptees cheat the pain of bereavement by indulging in a tenous “second chance” to fill the void. But I don’t think I will because for me the people who have had to put up with my shit for the last 25 years of my life are my parents.

My parents have expressed unconditional love to me that definitely equals and maybe far exceeds that of birth parents. My heated temper flares have never once resulted in them expressing a wish that they never adopted me. My actions have sometimes brought them headaches and shame that I don’t care to go into here but rest assured they were major. Yet, through it all, they have remained loving to me and supportive throughout it all.

I learned in one episode in my life that no matter who you are, if there is no bond of “blood” that anyone, anywhere can walk away from anything and anyone. Trapped in that abusive relationship? Walk away. You can. The power is within you to do so. Even close friends can walk away. One’s that you call brother sometimes have their own concerns that will always take precedence over you. But blood always remains.

So how can I talk about blood loyalty and familial duty when I turn my back on what is officially my blood and can’t claim blood descendence from my parents? Well, the text might suggest that I’m not being dutiful in a familial way. Even disregarding this, I still sometimes live in my own self-centered world and am not always mindful of my parents. I’m not proud of that but that’s the way that I am.

But I would offer a different take on the text and state that I do understand the familial duty and bond between my parents. Through my parents, I have learned unconditional love and know that this is what binds me to them. My parents are fallible, like any other person, and I am wont to argue with them if their wishes and thoughts don’t coincide with mine. I am not likely to indulge them on their whims just because they so. Chinese readers of this might be in shock horror at this statement.

To understand the statement, one has to understand that through them I have learned an unconditional love. It is a love that I return to them, even if I don’t agree with their actions, thoughts and even desires for me. I would stand by them, even if the world did not. They are the only two people that I would do so for, and through that my own family too is included in that. If familial duty is unconditional love, then I would consider myself dutiful familialy.

Familial duty is not expressed by my doting on their whims. It is expressed by being the person that they have brought me up to be. It is for me to excel at the opportunities that they have given me. By being the incarnation by which they leave their mark in the world, that is familial duty in what I have been brought up to believe and stand by. In this too, I am also being truly familial to my birth parents who I like to believe left me in someone else’s care because by doing so I could enjoy a better life. While they may have given me spark of life that I owe my existence to, the heart that beats my blood is one that has been cared for, nurtured, and shaped by my parents.

My familial duty is what is expected of me by my parents. And in that I try to live up to that ideal. The text has a certain truth about it but it does not suggest in definite terms a model for that familial duty. I think this is defined by your own family situation.

The parting thought I want to give you is to what extent are you being dutiful to your own parents? Blind obedience and respect might be a common model for parent child relationships, but ask yourself honestly, is that what your parents expect of you? The answer might be yes, but at least you have pondered the question. In my case, it is understanding what my parents have done for me and how can I best repay them in who I am.

The superiority of intellect that one attains by having a good education will better prepare oneself for the trials of life. Essentially, the purpose for which the book was written, education is argued as a necessity although the nature of it would differ during wartime and peacetime.

While this chapter was written in a time and place where most of the populace remained uneducated, the lesson still holds true today. Knowing things and being able to reason things is something that separates us from the animals. It was, is and will be our legacy to the world in which we live in.

Yet, we seem to live in a world that blatantly seems to ignore it’s birthright to think and to reason. Existing as a human being means that you are equipped with these facilities but it doesn’t necessarily mean that you automatically know how to use them. That is where proper education, where you learn to question, search for facts, develop your own hypothesis, and back them up with intelligent analysis comes in.

It’s almost as if these things have become painful to do and it seems much more pleasant to avoid doing them altogether and let other people do the hardwork for you.

But it’s going to get harder. The Internet is a new sphere of life where information and the sampling of information is flying around at light speed. Facts can be presented, fabricated, debated, argued and lost in the mountain of textual babble that spews around the Internet. The need for being able to take in information and weigh it in terms of validity, credibility and worthiness, is more important than ever.

Being knowledgeful and well-educated, as suggested by the book, is a duty that your parents must afford to you. It states that if they fail in this, “they do not know the way to love their children”. I would disagree with this to some extent. I would suggest more that it’s the responsibility of everyone to learn more themselves. It’s impossible to know the whole world around you, so likewise it’s impossible to say that you know everything already. But you can at least try to make a stab at it.

In this, I believe that it is more a responsibility to society and your duty as part of mankind to learn, think and reason. If you, rather than your parents, fail in this, then it is only your own negligence and irresponsibility that has caused your own stupidity. And, it is because you do not know the way way to love your world around you.

“One who is supposed to be a warrior considers it his foremost concern to keep death in mind at all times, every day and every night, from the beginning of New Year’s Day through the night of New Year’s Eve.”

Essentially, this chapter deals with the idea that if we keep in mind that our time on earth is a limited one, it help us to remember what is important and spurs us on to be as productive as we can be. It calls up examples of various problematic situations that can occur in life if we take the time that we have on the world for granted.

Understanding death and accepting it, rather than fearing it, is an important mindshift for someone who seeks to becoming a more disciplined person. Death is perhaps the one certainty in life for a human being. We know we are going to die and yet the fear of it drives us to ignore that it is bound to happen. We choose to assign an unknown date in the future for the time of our passing, letting ourselves hope that it is a long way off.

The mindshift occurs when we take back control of our lives by assigning a definite fixed point in time that death will occur, even if it does not. If hold in your mind that there will be no more tomorrow for yourself, you hold in yourself a discipline to think about what is important to you, do what must be done, and to not waste time on more trivial matters. “Live for the Day” is a phrase that aptly can be remembered and remind you that you might not have a chance to rectify your mistakes tomorrow. It can be interpreted as living for today rather than tomorrow, spurring yourself on to more indulgent excesses. It is just a valid approach to life to make sure that you enjoy each day knowing that it will be your last but unfortunately, it is more often than not used as an excuse for hedonistic enjoyment. But if you’ve truly thought about each day being your last, and have come to this conclusion to be hedonistic then all power to you.

For me, knowing that each day is an opportunity to live your last day, distills your values and forces you to think about your priorities. How much time do you spend in front of the TV? How much time do you spend idling away on things that have no real meaning for you as a person? Do you fight with family or loved ones on issues that are trivial? Do you hold a grudge against someone, knowing that deep down inside the reason that you even bother to hold any feelings against that person is because they have hurt you, and you still have a positive need for them in your life? Wouldn’t indifference be more apt for someone that you dislike?

A close friend of mine asked me just last week what would I do if I had 15 minutes left to live. My first reaction, without any forethought although it doesn’t make it any less valid, was to go to that person who I have strong feelings for and to express my love for them. However, on a moments more reflection, something that is more important in my life came to mind. Knowing that I had only 15 minutes left to live, I would spend that time telling my parents how much I loved them and how much I cared for them. I would spend the time expressing my gratitude to them for raising me, caring for me, and making me into the person that I am today. This was perhaps more important to me than to indulge in a whim of fantasy that I had at that moment in time. I am not demeaning the initial thought but I am sorry, for me expressing my love to my family was more of a priority. Knowing that I wouldn’t have a chance to do so again reminds me of how important that is to me. Tomorrow I couldn’t express that love to them in this theoretical situation.

And that is where the mindshift occurs. When you establish a definite time in your mind that you will no longer be able to do anything anymore, then you will be spurred on to take life more seriously for yourself. I’m not advocating that we all become somberly serious or rush to call our parents now (although if you haven’t done so for a while, you might want to stop reading and do so), I’m advocating as the book does that you need to remember what your priorities are. If your top priorities in life are being neglected because you believe that you have tomorrow, or the next day, or the next month, or the next year to do them in, then you may never have the chance to achieve them. The book says that you will have failed your parents or employer if you die prematurely over trivial matters. I believe more that you have failed yourself if you do not live your life for what you feel is important and waste your time on trivial matters.

Plan for the future, by all means, but striving to accomplish today what you want to achieve will, I believe lead to a more fulfilling and meaningful existence. Organized religion, whether it likes it or not, has instilled this more in people than they would perhaps realize. The knowledge of an afterlife drives us to believe that what we do in the present life will bring us to a better existence in the hereafter. Mankind finds some of its greatest advancements of technology, civilization and social change on the battlefield, where the danger of death is evermore present and imminent. The fabric of rigid social heirarchy in Britain first started during the World War I, when the prospect of death for it’s troops on the field in France, spurred the government to employ women in the functions that were normally dominated by men. Battlefield lessons taught the working class that the upper classes did not inheritantly have the right to lead. While the war was won, the ever present fear of death and the insight it brings helped spur the enlightened thought processes to a more egalitarian society.

I hope never to know the horror of war in my lifetime, and in line with the principles of the book, I do not suggest that we recklessly try to find death or preoccupy ourselves with it. But the lessons that were formed in those crucibles of thought, are something that we can learn from. Holding in your head that each day is your last, you might experience a mindshift that you can find a disciplined strength within.

Knowing that you only had today to live, how many of you would spend your time in needless arguement? Pointless fights? Engaging in fruitless relationships?

Also knowing that each time you meet someone, whether it be a friend or a relative, it might be your last time that you see each other, I think you can fill your time with them on a more meaningful basis.

If you make yourself believe that you will be around tomorrow, then you become less focused on doing things the right way the first time you do it. If you do something with the knowledge that you won’t have a second chance to accomplish it or rectify the mistakes in the first time, then you will be more likely to get it right the first time.

The first book that I will focus on in Meditations is the book called Code of the Samurai – A Modern Translation of the Bushido Shoshinshu of Taira Shigesuke translated by Thomas Cleary. This book provides a modern translation of Bushido (or Way of the Warrior) and attempts to put down in writing the core of the philosophies of the ancient samurai of Japan. These values have lived in on in part within the Japanese societal psyche.

For me the book represents an ideal that resonates powerfully within me. It is an ideal of loyalty, duty and prudence to create a harmonious path through life. The book spoke to the warrior within me, one that has always manifested itself by rising to any challenge, asserting aggression and quick to take up arms, both physically and mentally, to any perceived danger. The warrior within brutishly drives me on to fight and win.

Yet the book itself advocates none of these and highlights to me that what I once thought as the strengthening warrior within, I now know as the undisciplined, soul-destroying fighter within me. It is a fighter that anyone can call upon without any undue forethought or greater insight into the principled approach that is required to truly become stronger as a person. I believe that by meditating on what the original treatise advocates, the honourable and disciplined warrior within me will truly be born.

Trying to get out of it, I went to try and find someone in charge. Evidently this proved impossible and was faced with an older version of one my friend’s, Krase, who simply said just “dribble the ball and kick it”. All very well for him, since I remember him playing football quite well. And this was in another school.

I ended up back in MTS, only it wasn’t MTS. I do remember being in the countryside twilight zone (my term for the overly wholesome English countryside that hasn’t really changed much in the last 100 years or so. I’m a city boy and need the traffic, the lights, the seediness to be happy. The Sherlock Holmes even remarked that he much preferred the haven of the city). Anyway, back to my dream, in my search I ended up in a assembly hall of sorts, although to be honest, in resembled more a large chapel. I know MTS had an assembly hall but I can’t really rightly remember what it looked like but it didn’t look like the one in my dream. MTS was one of those schools where you assembled each morning by House, walked by House to the Assembly Hall, sang by House, and buggered off by House. A little like Harry Potter for those of you unfamiliar with the English public school system.

The dream blurred to my home room during my time at MTS. I do remember that and I do remember the greyish-black uniforms that we got lumbered with. I remember having to fight to prove myself (as you do in school), although it wasn’t really fair since I was dealing with kids that were of school age (think Simpsons when Bart is shown his future and he’s the oldest kid in the class at the age of 30). The fight did involve knives though, which I suppose, can kill at any age. Anyway, having won that fight, I still found myself in the chair that I first had when I first started at MTS, although this time with the respect of the class (hey, I just became top dog). Except I wasn’t, because in comes this black kid, who I don’t remember from MTS.

In fact, he looked more like one of those black actors in the films. I can’t remember his name, but this actor has (or in the image I have of him in my head) hazelnut colour eyes and short fuzzy hair. Can’t rightly remember to be honest. Well, turns out he’s top dog here. Only he’s not, because he’s about top himself with a knife. Okay, the dream gets a little weird here – he tries to top himself off with a knife, although it feels like and behaves like a gun¹.

1. This is where I stopped writing up the post since I had other things to do and now many years later, I wanted to publish this but really can’t for the life of me remember the exact details of the dream. It also included the following thoughts – appendix removal, a fight, a chapel, a black guy and friend of a friend that was actually an enemy

For some reason I started off thinking about being with Vietnamese people. Perhaps it’s because I met a lovely woman who was Vietnamese but who grew up in the UK. This made dream about being with the Vietnamese people that I knew in the UK, but instead of seeing their faces, it was more of a feeling that they were there. I don’t think they physically were there since as I said it was more a feeling of their presence. But the feelings of Anton, Ning and Tai was there for some reason.

In any case, it led to the next stage in the dream where I imagined arriving after a car journey with Greg at some place where I had to do business. It seemed like London and somewhere in town, under a bridge, quite industrial looking. I was there to do a very short errand for someone there but then it dragged on some bit. Anyway, I quickly realized that I had parked on a double yellow line so rushed out to find my car, through the back door.

It becomes a little blurry now. I believe there was a police car, van or person somewhere nearby and my car didn’t haven’t a ticket yet. I think I rushed back into the place where I ran the errand and had left Greg. This time I when I entered though, Greg was working as a waiter. I think it was rooted in the fact that he’s looking for a job and in the dream, the guy I knew offered it to him there and then. Only that when I entered he seemed to be asking for time off, which is not normally done when you start at your job for the first time. He explained it was like a big Chinese family reunion thing that was going on that happened every five years and so on and that he had to attend, no matter what.

I don’t think he got to finish his discussion since I hussled him out to find my car. The strange thing about this segment was that everyone was rushing out like it was a fire drill or something.

Well, I found my car in a quiet suburban street which was freaky because I left it in a quite industrial looking area. But dreams have a tendancy to jump around in location. Greg turned into my brother for some reason. Maybe because I consider him to be as close to me as my brother. Whatever it was, my elder brother was there asking me about some strange seedy places in HK. The scene was London suburbia but the feeling was my brother visiting me in HK.

Then for some reason, there was a segment that was cut exactly like a flashback made to look like a grainy world war two film. All I can imagine is BJ Honeycut (from Mash fame) engaged in an argument about something in front of a group of people and they were in a POW camp. He said something witty and everyone laughed. Then the scene cut to a manga-esque styled scene with spitfires and other WW2 planes coming out from something like a large flying container.

Then I was at home. Well it seemed like a homecoming. My father may or may not have been there. I couldn’t tell to be honest. All I knew was that my mother wasn’t there. Actually, I think my father was there.

There was a puppy there too. I think Labrador puppy. He was so cute. And then my mother came home and brought a small furry puppy that looked like it should be a scottie or cairn terrier only this one was pure white. Unfortunately, it had lots of stitches in him (or her?) and we kept the other puppy away from him intentionally seeing as it was just a little older but a little more boisterous and playful.

I did inquire about another dog that we seemed to have. Although, we don’t have one. It was something along the lines of “But what about XXXX?”. I think Dad told me he was outside so not to worry. I think I rushed to the backdoor in the expectation to see my old dog there that had passed away last year. But I was disappointed since it was just another dog that we had (in the dream world) but was fully grown. He was a border collie called Murphy.

The dream ended with some wierd confusing layout and deployment of phpNuke.

Strange that.

Just spent a charming evening with the my friend Jo who is a FA with SQ. It was the same as last time. About two or three girls and the rest were guys. But at the moment I couldn’t care less since it was a fucking great evening. But the draw back was that two of the girls were married and the one was engaged to a Dutch guy. I wished her luck on that one. She’s been learning Dutch for 6 months and damned, I must say, she understood quite a bit. I guess where there’s a will there’s a way. Sharmin…that’s her name.

Jo was lovely as usual. Even though she’s hot I think or at least I hope that we’ll be good friends. She just has that friend quality about her. Despite that she’s hot. Or did I say that. Another lovely lady, Lavinda, was married too. Which was a shame because I seemed to be getting along quite well with her. Anyway, she kept patting my head and saying I was a boy. Anyway, she was the one challenged me to a drinking competition if I ever get my ass down to SG. Nice Malaysian Chinese gal. I liked all of them actually. The guys were a laugh too – Farouk and Astrul or something like that. I’m too wasted to check my phone.

I really need to stop hanging out with SQ cabin crew. They may have that nice warm, welcoming smile but trust me…they can run circles around you.

Right, I’m off to nurse my hangover and feel sorry for myself. I gotta get up early to phone one of my managers and explain why I’m not coming into work today. Shit, Hilary’s going to kill me too. But I know what to do….it’s just going to take me extra fucking time since I’ve got this throbbing shite in my head. But then, if I’m able to type reasonably coherentyl, and I believe I haven’t made too many spelling mistakes, then I’m not that gone. What I wouldn’t give for a Lucozade right now.

I was sitting in economy class but it was stangely in the forward business class area. For some reason, the FA’s in my section weren’t getting up at all and nor were any of them coming down from the back. I was waiting expectantly for that to happen, but the more I looked for them, the more they got fewer number. The ones that I did see, I recognized from other flight that I have taken. One was I believe an Indian or Sri Lankan Senior Purser. Another one was a doll of girl on my last flight that I didn’t chase after. Then for some reason, there was a FA that looked like a girl I studied with at college called Pilar. No idea why she ended up in their. She was a Portugese girl who had very fine and delicate features. She could look like a flight attendant, I reckon. There was no Napa or Louisa on board either, which was good.

Another strange things was that I was booked into a window seat which isn’t what I normally get. I explained to this German (or was it an American lady?) who was sitting next to me, whether I could swap. She agreed but not after chatting to me for some bit. Turns out she was stopped over in Amsterdam for a couple hours in the middle of the night for a connecting flight. I wasn’t really interested in what she was saying to me anyways.

I think we were flying because people started to walk around again. Again, no flight attendants to be seen anywhere. It was like that time when you take off and no-one is walking around? That was it. There was some coke-head of a teen dressed in some funny mini-skirt set up which was like a fetish salute to a pilot’s uniform walking around. I thought she worked for the airline but then I realized she had probably woken up this morning and was excited about flying, that she changed into her “special flying outfit”. How sad was that?

Then for some reason, some one in front of me, well, not really in front, but to the left of me (it was to the left of me, but felt like it was in front of me…hey, this was a dream), started to sing “Flying Without Wings”. Everyone around him was starting to pay attention to what he was doing. I believe it wasn’t a positive feeling they had to him, and they were expecting him to stop singing.

He sort of toned down his singing but I regretted that he was forced to stop…so I tried to find it on my MP3 player. I sort of know that I don’t have that particular song on my player since I don’t really listen to Westlife.

I think this started my ascent back to the waking, rational world. I stopped listening to MP3 player because I realized I had not charged it, which triggered me to think about when I had last charged it. I think this very rational question cued my brain to stop it’s chaotic sequences and to deal with a real world query.

It made one last attempt to drag me back to the surreal fantasy it had conjured up, and almost in answer to the very rationale thought, it tricked me to believe that I had given up listening to the MP3 player and to start writing a letter to someone. This was the second letter that I was writing to this particular person.
Of course, it made the mistake of making me believe I had already written a first part to the letter and that I was just joining an additional second part to it. Somewhere I knew this was wrong because as soon as I had written the words “You’ll never believe what just happened…” I started to query the first part I had written and realized that it did not exist in the real world. At this point, I surfaced back into sanity.

I don’t know why I had such a dream. Even though I am letting go of the past slowly, by diminishing the regret of losing Napa and Louisa, the pain and fear I feel of flying with CX at times when it was really bad came back to me in the dream. Maybe it’s cause its the first time I’ve had this week to go into a deep sleep which was aided by last night’s strenous massage. Flight attendants were probably playing in my head since the team that handles CX in my company were looking at some casting tapes. Maybe it was because I might be leaving soon.

My dreams were a mish-mash of things I’m trying to do online with my websites and what someone else is doing with their website. I was dreaming of these different possibilities I could explore to get this one bit of code to work properly – PHP merging into HTML merging into plain text. Another fragment was exploring the design options for a website my friend is setting up. For some reason red had come out as a bright orange, and he was happy with that for some reason.

I think I’m spending too much time on my websites again if I’m dreaming about this now.