Dreams

Dear Reader,

Have you ever had a running dream? I have, a few times. It's curious, though. In all of my running dreams, I'm never running away from something...but I'm not running towards anything, either. I'm just running for the sake of running. I wonder what that means.

I remember once, some time ago--I can't remember when exactly--I dreamt I was in a park. It kind of looked like the park in Tabuan Laru, my old neighbourhood. But it was shadier, because there were more trees, and it was bigger. There were a few people around, but it wasn't crowded. I went there on purpose to run, almost as if I was in training for a race or marathon or something. I started running. Then, as I began to pick up speed, the people started noticing what I was doing, and smiled encouragingly at me as I whizzed past them. There was one man in particular. I don't remember his face, just the expression he was making. Dreams are strange that way, aren't they? Anyway, he was cheering me on--"Faster, faster!"--and smiling at me as if he knew me. And he seemed to be running alongside of me, because, even though I was running for all I was worth, he was there beside me, grinning at me.

Then I started going faster and faster, and I outran the man. He was behind me, still smiling at me. Then the background started to melt and fade away, becoming blurry streaks around me as I ran. I remember feeling an overwhelming sense of freedom, like I was soaring through the air, and I stretched out my arms. I was running so fast, the wind was whipping my hair back. I was grinning in my dream and I felt breathless, but I wasn't tired or anything. I think I was just really excited. Do you remember the way we used to run when we were wee little things, my now-grown-up reader? Wildly and unabashedly, with complete abandon and a look of absolute rapture on our besmirched faces. That's the way I was running--minus the dirty face part. I forget how the dream ended, though. Perhaps I just continued running until morning.

I've had a few flying dreams as well. Well, more like floating dreams. They're not as eventful or exciting as my running dreams are. And they usually all go the same way. I'm floating in the air, in a corner of a room, looking down at the rest of it. There's nobody else in the room, and I don't think there's ever any furniture in it. I don't really remember that part clearly. Anyway, I'm bobbing up and down, and moving my arms and legs trying to stay airborne; like I'm treading water. I get really apprehensive about falling. In my dream, I'm thinking, 'don't fall down, don't fall down'. And I get a queasy feeling in my stomach when I look down, and the soles of my feet start to feel all tingly. You see, dear reader, I'm afraid of heights. Apparently my dream-self is altophobic as well. And...that's it. Unfortunately, I can never remember whether I am successful in my endeavour to stay afloat all night, or if I end up plummeting down to earth by morning.

I had this funny dream once. It was a very short one, not more than a minute long. It consisted of me drinking a carton of...something. I'm pretty sure it was orange juice, but it might have been apple. Anyway, I was drinking away, not really thinking about anything in particular. Suddenly, it dawned on me that I had almost finished the entire thing; there was less than a quarter left. I panicked. I thought, 'Oh, no. If they [meaning my siblings] found out I drank this much by myself they'll get angry at me.' I put the carton back in the fridge and left, fully intending to deny any and all accusations directed at me concerning orange juice. And that was the end. What a bizarre dream. Have you--

Oh, my goodness! I just realized...it could have been milk I was drinking! All I remember for sure was the carton I was drinking from; it was definitely shaped like a milk carton. But I hate milk! How could my dream-self do something like that to me? I know full well how much I loathe milk! How could I do such a dastardly and cruel thing to myself?

Alright, my dear reader. If anyone asks, it was orange juice I was drinking. That's our story, and we're sticking to it!

Well. Believe it or not, the carton-drinking dream was not the weirdest dream I have ever had. However, since this post is already longer than what I had originally intended it to be-- and also because I'm getting bored of writing, and I haven't had my dinner yet--I shall be merciful and spare you the details. Off you go, then, dear reader. And sweet dreams. I remain...

Yours,

Figgy the Dreamer