I have been having strange dreams.

I think last week I dreamt Minibean jumped into a deep sea of water, and in the dream, I dove right in and saw the waters to be at least 14 metres deep(and resembles that of diving).

I saw her spiralling to the bottom of the seabed much faster than I can manage. I panicked and dove towards her.

I held her by her neck and bum delicately, as I desperately wanted to get to the surface of water. But she was lifeless.

I couldn’t scream in the water.

I tried to revive her.

It was a horrible dream. But it didn’t feel real.

Yet the scenario replayed itself.

***

Few days later.

I dreamt of a cousin of mine, kidnapped Minibean, using her as a hostage.

I searched and searched and screamt and screamt in the dream. I even dialed 999 when I saw the sinister cousin(okay, in the dream only) as I followed her to find where Minibean was.

I begged. I cried. I screamt.

Gee.

It felt so much more real this time. It was bizarre.

***

I dreamt of something yesterday. I don’t remember what.

I could remember I had some kind of infection in my right wrist after an injury to it.

It was okay, but it became softer, and softer, until… it suddenly tore like a piece of wet paper, right at the joint, at the back of the hand.

My hand was dangling.. I could see bones, blood, tissues…. you know, the gruesome works.

I didn’t panic. I touched my fingers for sensation, and even held the hand up to examine the blood and gore.

I was afraid, I know. But as always, I am too stubborn to show any hint of it.

I remember I was thinking to myself what will happen if I can no longer use my master hand.

Yet all I did was held the wound close with my left hand, whispered to someone(I can’t remember who though) to get me to the hospital if he/she is free.

I didn’t explain why cos I remember my family was around and I didn’t want to freak them.

I remember holding my wrist pretty tight, tapping on my fingers on and off to make sure they still can feel….

***

It was a quick change of weather in this.

Like the change of emotions controlled the come and go of the sun, wind, and rain.

I could hardly breathe from the darkness of it all.

And then, there, it was, staring back at me, a .51, which costs nearly 8 grand staring back at me, with a shiny sheet of cardboard verifying its glorious characteristics.

It was a perfect fit.

No bended knees, no flowers.

Just gloom. Lots of gloom.

And most importantly, no joy.

The only tears that threatened to fall are those which are of despair and desperation.

No one seems to fucking get it.

I couldn’t breathe. I felt cornered.

I couldn’t give up my entire life of happiness and just say yes because of exasperation. Cos I know I will never be happy, no matter how confident you are that you will make me to be.

The storm came.

I ran.

I ran.

I ran.

It was here, I saw it. The little “S” of where it all happened. It was grey, it was drizzly when I stared down onto the road.

My mind was a blank. And then, in my world, only I existed.

Safe. Distant. Nonchalant. Emotionless.

The box was left in my hands.

I didn’t want to see it. It shouldn’t be this way. It is meaningless when it brings pain and not joy. It is like a mockery.

It shouldn’t be like this.

When I am tired, I am still forced to entertain.

When I am tired, I am still forced to do things because I feel obliged because people have been nice.

I feel tired trying to pretend I can solve all these when I can’t, or rather, have no wish to, except with the only way of running, escaping.

I feel tired to pretend I can still be a friend, when maybe my Xbox 360 is much more of a friend than anyone else. Or wait, mahjong.

I raise my voice, short of a scream. I breathe in, but there was no air.

It was a blur and it was suddenly evening.

In the rain.

I wasn’t feeling well, but who cares? As long as they get what they want.

I could almost remember why people punch glass doors, or the walls….

Cos all I wanted to do, is either hit my head against the wall to stop the migraine, or that a burn from the cig would do some magic to help me feel again.

People who say they care, and they love…?

Seriously, utter bullshit.

And then, the devil appeared.

I walked away unscathed after selling my soul unwillingly.

Yet, my soul is already sold.

I shuddered. The fear from it all sent chills down my spine.

Alas.

It wasn’t a dream this time round.

It was a nightmare.

It was 12 November.