6:29am
[audio:iimd.mp3][“Island In My Dreams” refluxed by Leeman Cheng in December 7th, 2000]
So I just woke up from about 5 hours of sleep from a nightmarish dream… Another one.
I travelled to the United States, or what looked like the U.S. with my mom. We went somewhere. It was always sunny when I was lost or looking for my way, but it was always foggy and dim when I was idle. The dream was vivid. I saw every detail, I remember every detail – the fine lines of the many portraits hanging inside the five star hotel. I remember the people that walked by us. The people and the objects that interacted with us. I remember the ‘temperature’ and the noises…
It was time to go. Jon, his girlfriend, his ex girlfriend, my brother, Albert, Jenny, Ben, and Laura was there, and probably others too. I went to the washroom, while they waited outside with my mom, and my brother was in the washroom with me. I asked him, “Why is Jon’s girlfriend so dark?” In which my brother replied, “It must because of that place she went to.”
Then I hesitated of going out, but I did, and saw them all lying, sitting, standing around. I interacted with some of them, smiled to the rest, and remembered that somehow, we were at the ‘wrong’ gate, though we weren’t. That’s when the dream became nightmarish.
My mom and I walked every where to try to find the ‘right’ gate. The airport was so big, that it dwarfed the Hong Kong airport ten times. We indoors most of the time, and when we finally reach this place, there was a lot of construction going on. All I was trying to do was get us to the Air Canada gate, while have the opportunity to say my good byes. The construction worker told me that we were way off, so we headed the way he suggested.
We went all over the place, and a hotel manager found us and helped us, but instead of taking us to the Air Canada gate, he took us to a posh sushi place. By then, I was quite upset, but visibly able to hold myself together. My mom looked disappointed that she won’t be able to see my dad any time soon, and I asked her whether our tickets are good for another day, and she told me they were good for at least a few more days. I asked because as I headed outside and back inside, I saw our jumbo jet take off.
I went up the stairs into the top floor of the sushi place and an old sushi guy from an old samurai family greeted me. He said something I don’t remember which cleared my mind, and I got so… It was a very scary feeling, but at the same time, whatever he said to me, it made me a lot stronger. Then I went back to the washroom I was in with my brother, gathered all the stuff, and held my hand out to get my mom’s bag and treaded back to the original gate. Where I found that I did indeed missed everyone. I thought that they probably thought I had left without saying good bye properly.
I was quite internally upset because that’s usually how it is – that it seems like everyone misunderstands me.
The most ‘memorable’ part of the entire dream, was when I exited the airport building, and walked along what looked like a street at Expo 86 towards what I thought was the real gate, but ended up at a railed-ledge overlooking a very long and large field of hills and grass, and small winding roads. This part of the dream was very vivid. It was partly cloudy, and the shapes and shadows of the clouds floated over the land. There were patches of super bright sunlight, slowly moving over the landscape. There was one plane – a white one – mine – the one my mom and I was supposed to take back to Canada, back home, but it was so far away, so far down, fenced, unreachable, but the thing was, the scene was immaculate and beautiful. The plane sat there, peaceful and strong, amidst an entire massive field of what ‘looked’ like old memories – daffodils, buttercups, natural scenery, wildlife just beyond a busy bustling major city airport.
Just before we reached the original Air Canada gate, I saw the ‘old town’ of the city, where it was in ruins and a lot of black people were fighting and holding turf. A girl in dreadlocks came to me and pointed out that the poor and homeless does this every day and night, and that there is no stopping it. She treated me fairly and equally. I was dressed very successfully, carrying posh bags, wore the most comfortable things, and looked as immaculate as that plane on that field. I looked out of place, but they treated me the same and I felt good that way. I didn’t fit in by appearance, but I fit in by ideal.
That girl didn’t say it to me, but I knew that the old town was beyond rescue, as much as I probably had the power and wealth to do it. It was time to go, and old town was no longer something I needed to tend to. The thing is, it was never something I needed to tend to at all. It wasn’t my battle.
As my mom and I boarded the next plane out, I told myself, “I never got a chance to say good bye to my friends.” Then woke up very very suddenly, and after brushing my teeth, washed my face, talked to my mom before she left for work, here I am, typing this out, drinking water that taste like crap, after a night of beer.
I say, mixing Sleeman’s with Kokanee isn’t a good thing.
Out of that dream, I have to confess, when I stood there, watching the cloud shadows and sunlight float over that massive field, I felt as if a ghost of me wandered there, oblivious to time and effort. Like a much much much younger version of me. Unfortunately, even when I was a toddler, I wasn’t nearly as ‘naive’ as most kids that age. I knew things and was aware of things, but that’s another story.
Back inside the dream, when we took off, the view outside was foggy and dim. I couldn’t see anything beyond the wings, and guess what? As we took off, I thought I heard this song playing in the background – at least, I was thinking about this song. It used to be a part of another song another musician created, but I took out all the other stuff and made it into a more mellow, sadder tune. I edited it some time in 1998, completed it in 2000, and renamed it later that year, since I no longer had the original artist’s name and song name.
I tried using Reason 3.0 to track music a couple of months ago, but it doesn’t give me the same feeling as it used to, when I tracked through DOS using Fast Tracker, Scream Tracker, and Impulse Tracker. Ah whatever. I’m just rambling now.
[bows]
7:04am
ps: And yes, you’re right, you can’t comment in this entry. [laughs] It saves me the trouble of reading stuff for this entry. 8)