Floppy Tennis

The dream begins at a tennis game. I am a boy and playing against two other schoolboy friends. Strangely, I am not dressed in Mattar Primary School uniform but that of Boys Town English Primary. I am trying to show the boys some tennis moves. One of these is the forehand topspin. I sort of succeed, and realize I am using an old Yonex aluminium racket, one that was light green and once owned by an elder sister. But although the game starts off well, things slowly take a surreal turn. When I try to execute an overhand lob, the racket turns soft like noodle. I kind of flop the shot through and miss contacting with the ball entirely.

We continue the game awhile and matters do not improve. I keep missing the ball because the racket is floppy.

Next, we are in a large field flying remote control planes. I see my arm doing the same floppy movement. This time, however, in my hand is a remote control. I am waving (or flopping) the control about to direct the plane, like some Wii game controller. The plane flies about in sync with my 'movement commands'. I seem elated by that and run about the field as if I am flying a kite; the model plane flying in the sky as if connected by an invisible string to my handheld remote. In my mind, I am thinking what a marvelous invention that would be, being able to point the remote at the plane and direction its movements, including doing a loop-de-loop.

The scene again changes, but the focus is still on a hand. This time, instead of holding something floppy, I am gripping an iron bar that's a handhold inside a robot's fist. I am punching as if it is my boxing glove. I realize I am inside a robot suit and involved in some sort of futuristic robot boxing match. I am boxing and people outside are cheering. This continues for a while and the scene fades, like zoom-out in a movie ending. The dream then ends.

Escape to Fado

In this dream, I am stuck in a semi-submerged tanker. Not a very big one, but its central hold - the size of a small swimming pool - is filling with water and the whole rusty contraption is listed to one side. I am beating the water to keep some creatures down. Not sure what, but they are ferocious. I try to climb up the side ledge of the tanker even as I try to hold on and defend myself.

There are two other people with me in the tanker, each trying to survive what's in the water.

The scene changes. Shots are being fired at a wall. They blast through leaving holes grouped rather close together. Shots fired at close range.

My family is trying to get out. For some reason, we are being pursued. We fire back.

As we retreat, I set up booby traps, the kind that employ a string, a can and a hand grenade.

We leave as the building blasts from the inside, throwing a black cloud of dust outwards and upwards through the doorway - or what used to be a doorway. The blast also throws us to the ground.

We cough, pick ourselves up and dust off. We see a gap in a fallen wooden fence and race for it.

On the other side, a pack of wolves lies waiting. I leap over and start to bash the wolves left and right. I don't feel good hitting them as I quite like wolves for their bravery and intelligence. But hey, when bark turns to bite, I rather not be the one to get torn to bits!

The wolves put up a fight but it was only temporary. They scatter soon enough when someone comes  running with a torch of fire. That person was rather manic, as if he was fending off zombies more-like.

I look down and am surprised to find myself and my family up a tree. We could see the shapes of wolves running away. However, a band of orcs is climbing up the side of the hill and shouting to burn us down. Wait, am I in The Hobbit? In a moment, Gandalf comes riding on a giant eagle and whisks us away. I know, in The Hobbit, Gandalf is also rescued by the eagles, not riding shotgun like some hero coming in as a savior.

We pass through clouds and I find myself on solid ground again. My family is not with me, only an old girlfriend. When the clouds clear, we find ourselves on a rocky shore. A lighthouse is not far in front. It appears we are back at Cabo da Roca, a remote tourist attraction (or rock outcrop) that bills itself as the furthest point west of the European continent. A few buildings surround the lighthouse. There isn't much to see except for a sign that proclaims the significance of the place. I think anybody who turns up here will take a picture with this sign. We do the same.

Afterwards a guy insists we stay to take photos for the others. After a while, we flee. The road is an isolated country road that winds down a hill. Fortunately a bus comes along and we hop on. Sometime later we arrive at a village. The streets seem too narrow for the bus but it squeezes through.

We arrive and stop at a cafe that bills itself as the place for Fado, a kind of Portuguese music. We enter and sit down for a drink of coffee. A small band plays while a lady sings.

The song appears sad but nice to listen to,no different from what Edith Piaf had sung, I think. As the sun sets, we make our way out of the cafe and head to a place for sardines. We could see lights and someone operating a grill. My girlfriend and I smile at each other as we take a slow leisurely stroll towards where the smell of grilled fish and onions is coming from.We feel happy and content.

A Dream of Kuan

This dream I had dreamt of in parts before, especially at the beginning, where I find myself walking through a small shopping mall and coming across a makan store.

I am walking along and near the end of a corridor when I see a an local cafe selling stuff wrapped in ketupat leaves. The food packages are of various sizes including one that is quite large - not unlike a packet of nasi lemak. I ask for the price and find it expensive. I tell the macik no, I don't think so and walk on. Some items on display continue to interest me.

I walk on past some clothing stores. Eventually I come to a sofa bench and sit down. After a while I find a desktop scanner cover next to me. Where's the rest of the machine, I wonder. Then I notice a small black laptop, only that it is not. It holds a smaller game machine in its casing, like a Nintendo DSi XL. A blue and white school bag lies nearby, unattended.

Suddenly I realise that two boys are playing handheld games in front of me. They are sitting in some sort of boxed-in sofa seat, why I have not noticed them before and they, me.

I contemplate hiding their stuff to 'punish' them, but think better of it. I move away quietly. The boys do not notice, still too engrossed and noisy in their game play.

I leave the shopping centre and wait at the bus stop opposite. There I bump into my Engineering schoolmate, Kuan. He seems distracted, if not a little polar... smiling but troubling inside. I knew he went to China to work. Did it not work out?

We are about to board a bus and I ask Kuan if he likes to go for coffee instead. He agrees and we cross the road back to the shopping centre. We seem to have gotten to the blind side of the complex and there is no entrance. We help each other climb up and down a few parapets and flower beds to get onto a corridor. Eventually we walk round to the entrance.

Inside, we try to find a place to sit down for a drink. A lady calls out to me. She appears to run a cafe shop. I look round to inform Kuan. He has wandered off to another place.

I search for him but at each turn of the corner, can only catch glimpses of him. Eventually, I catch up to him and finds that we are now in his home, a large complex. An older man greets Kuan and he goes off with him.

The entrance to his home is high and reminds me of the large atrium of a corporation. I can also see that it is situated on a hill.

I can still hear Kuan but he stays out of sight; I wonder why he is being so elusive. The lady of the house, an Eurasian, invites me in for a drink.

We move upstairs to a verandah area to sit and talk and drink tea.

Beyond this, another hall, one that is made to look rustic, standing by itself like some ethnic community hall. The rest of the house has been concrete and painted in white. This new hall is made of timber and grass and stands out vividly like a prayer hall atop a hill. In the distance, the weather has changed and clouds can be seen growing and rolling. It is an amazing sight and the lady of the house comments so. By now, a gaggle of ladies have also joined us - some in their teens - for tea and  they say the same. Some are sipping tropical cocktail drinks served up by the bar from inside that timber hall.

Soon, the storm is upon us and all of us run in for cover.

Still, no sight of Kuan, although I continue to hear him speak with someone nearby.

The wind from the storm blows hard, flapping the bamboo blind around us. Rain begins to pelt. It is an awesome sight being so high and exposed.

I retreat into the big house again and stand behind a glass. I marvel at the storm now raging outside. It feels me with awe. I don't hear from Kuan and it seem not to matter anymore.

Chinatown and A Coded Bra

I am in a sort of old Chinatown made up of wooden storeyed buildings. Connecting these mishmash of houses are covered wooden walkways that are narrow, squarish and high up. Very tube-like. You would have to stoop to walk through them. And in each walkway were small square windows.

In this dream, I seem to be running away from gangsters. I am in a car and driving about. In one scene, I arrive at the courtyard of a couple of ladies. To get to them, I had to navigate through backalleys not unlike those found in the lorongs of Geylang and Sims Avenue.

The ladies have some very minute (size) digital information that the gangsters want. In my mind, I imagine them to be miniaturised computer chips. But they were not. The information was contained in their bras which had some sort of black elastic netting. When expanded a little - like pushing up from underneath with a thumb - one could see what the closed elastic band was hiding. What I saw was some paint colors of which reminded me of a painting of Vincent van Gogh.

I then catch a couple of gangsters spying from underneath a bench in the garden. I pull them out. One I keep inside a wooden box and try to squash him to death. He struggles and a leg pops out. I try to break that by twisting his ankle but it does not work. I try the same with his head but it just wouldn't snap. In the end I just sat on him and let him be. I am thinking how uncomfortable I am with the violence and all that.

With the gangsters disposed off, I take the girls by car to find their agent. Apparently he would know what to do with the information in their bras. I looked at one of the girls and admired her large breasts. My, that girl could hold a trillion bytes was what I thought! Nerd. Am I really that nerdy?

Rear Ended

In this dream, I am driving. My car is a large '70s saloon like those found in America. I have a few passengers inside and we are making merry. At a traffic light, we stop. As we were talking, we didn't notice that the car was rolling back. But only just. However, it nudged the car behind.

As it was slight, I didn't think it warranted getting out of the car. However, I noticed through the rear mirror that the other driver was giving livid and getting out of his. So I decided to do the courteous thing and get out as well.

The other driver was really livid and gesticulated loudly at the spot on his car where I had seemingly hit him. I see dents and scratches, as if on a stainless steel surface. It runs the length of his car. Dents like raised ribbons of scars and scratches looking like buffed aluminium. Ok, I get the idea, the side of his car was like a battleground. But I remember thinking, hey I only so slightly bumped you, what has these other scars got to do with me? If anything, it showed that you were the worse driver.

Just then, I realised he was my ex-classmate BH. He's usually very calm and reserved. But now, he is getting all worked up and livid. In fact, in the next moment, he rolled on the floor demanding that I make amends. He rolled back and forth, arms crossed against his chest, throwing his tantrum at the same time. "You were wrong! You should apologise!" I couldn't take it and stuck out a leg to stop him.

I woke up thinking how funny that was, me sticking out a leg and stepping on him to stop him from rolling, like someone stopping a runaway log (small one).

I next drive away into the next town.

Afternote: I try to understand this dream and determine its triggers, but unlike my previous ones, I cannot find any. For the car side scratches, that I get. It resembles the opening sequence of James Bind's 007 Quantum of Solace which was recently shown on prime time TV. Why my usually calm classmate would roll on the floor like that, I haven't a clue. It's not normal even for anybody!

Forgotten Giant Prawn

It's funny, don't you think, to remember in a dream something you have caught in another dream and forgotten all about?

I had dreamt of a lobster prawn (which looked incidentally like a giant cooked prawn all pink and whitish, see pix on left) a week ago. Today, I dreamt about opening the same bag (the side pocket of a haversack) and remembering that I had caught it sometime ago. I had forgotten all about it during all this time. I even reprimanded myself about it, and for not having fed it and if it was still alive. It was. And hungry probably, judging by the aggressive way it reacted when I opened the pouch. Who can blame the poor creature!

The reason I remember today is that I dreamt I had caught another giant prawn. This one is dead though. I was putting it in the side pouch when I discovered the another one inside. At the time, I was in a bus driving some school kids to a seaside excursion and had caught the prawn in the sea. I don't know why this one is dead and the other one alive.

So I put the dead prawn in together with the live prawn. Immediately it pulled its dead companion further inside. I was worried that it would cannibalise it. But for some strange reason, hungry as it was, it didn't.

Back home, I decided to put the live prawn in a basin to feed it properly. The basin was blue and plastic, same one as I have in my non-dream home. I then looked for a flat piece of gauze wire to cover over it. I wondered about what I should feed the prawn now crawling in my basin. Could I feed it with small prawns like I did with my dead and gone turtle? Wouldn't that be cannibalism? How about bits of sotong?

The next day, I told the kids in the bus that they could no longer swim in the sea. They did not sound too disappointed when I told them about the giant prawn. A few want to go to my place to look at it. In any case, some of the kids put their diving masks on and stuck their heads out of the moving bus. Their hair flew back as it caught the wind.

To engage them in another matter, I told them to organise themselves into groups of four. This they did, getting up in the bus and exchanging seats. I remember thinking, 'What an obedient bunch!'

An Egg-Shaped Car

Someone has invited me to shop at the village. I go there and see a popular eating place. It's crowded and I make my way in to see what the fuss was all about. It is some cold noodles the proprietor is selling. The eatery is made of bamboo and with mats as walls like some waystation tea-stand in some Ancient China.

I see movement of people and follow them along a corridor. I make a few turns and end up in a room. A group of boys are trying to clean themselves up with water. I notice they are without shoes. I ask why they are muddy and they tell me they have been playing in a river further up.

They point out of a window and I follow their directions. I find the river and understands the fun the boys had. It reminds me of a trip I've made to Malaysia once.

Other folk walk by carrying prayer incense things. There are trees all round as if in a kampong and that a temple is somewhere ahead.

I get the feeling that my female friend is coming and return to the roadside by the eatery. I see her walking down towards me from a distance. When we up we go inside and have a meal.

After our makan, we say our goodbyes and I meet my army buddy Richard. I am soon at his house. I stay over and the next thing I know, I am awake in the morning and am. getting ready to leave.

For some reason Richard is busy in his room. His dad feels it is rude and calls him to come join me.

The phone rings and Richard's father picks it up. "It's your army camp," he says.

Richard talks into the phone and gets angry. It seems the camp is not willing to let him skip a training in-camp. Profanities are exchanged. He switches off the phone and throws it on the sofa.

I get dressed to leave. I notice I am dressed in a funny way. A loose sheer blouse, a very short pair of skin-tight shorts that is made of red and yellow shiny polyester and printed with images of people from ancient China. I think the scene is a snippet from that famous Song painting of a market on a river bridge that was recently turned into a kind of animated installation artwork. This pair of shorts is so short it's like a band. Stranger still is that lacy underwear is sneaking out from behind and after some comments made by Richard's mom, I try to tuck them back in.

I look as if I am wearing transvestite fashion but I don't feel it. Even the high heels I'm wearing don't engender that feeling.

Next, I am back at the eatery and bump into Allen, a secondary schoolmate and fellow badminton team member. We sit down somewhere for coffee and to chat. Once done, we head back to his 'car' that was parked in an alley. It has an unusual shape, almost like a luge machine with cover. Allen seems proud of it and suggests we go for a drive.

We remove the top cover, which is made of unvarnished fibreglass. It has the color and texture of polished shell like those commonly used by Filipinos to make lampshades, coasters and other stuff. The rest of the car seems to be made of canvas, wood and aluminium struts. Together they give the impression that the vehicle is egg-shaped and aerodynamic.

Allen gets in, followed by me. I ease myself carefully down on the seat (it's a tight fit) and proceed to lift my leg one at a time into a small place holder. As mentioned, this vehicle is more luge machine than car. Or some leftover contraption from an energy-efficient driving contest.

I need to sneak my leg between two pieces of wood planks and I succeed. Sitting with my legs clamped around the structure, we replace the cover and set off.

To move the machine, we have to shove-chuck two thin rods that run along the top edges of the vehicle. The faster we work, the faster the vehicle went. Allen and I have to be coordinated. So we time ourselves to left-right left-right rhythm. it works. Our action is no different from holding on to two overhead bars in a bus and shoving them along. Pretty soon, we speed along at a very good pace.