Dream

Just woke up from a gripping dream. Many friends and I were eating at a coffeeshop. We were cleaning it up after eating, and I was not pleased with that. So I shouted at another: tell me one good reason why we should be doing this. I don't mind cleaning up for a legitimate reason but this is unreasonable. Cut to me walking to some place with urgency, to distance myself from this friend I shouted at and another.

I am back in school, I see those two friends walking through the gates too. I am fearful for some reason. Cut to a classroom, we're all in it. I feel worried and angry. A pope's in front, and the reason why I'm fearful becomes clearer. Those two friends report on me. They say I had possessed some one else, I don't know who. And that's a sin. After class, the pope comes to speak with me. He asks me, gently, what exactly happened, and I told him I possessed someone. He asks me what it was like to do so and I told him I felt transcendental, like as if I were flying and I could still see myself in my HDB flat doing things. And then because I knew I was going to be in trouble I possessed the pope. I lay down on the ground writhing, the pope collapses. The two friends rush in, dream ends.

Admittedly, a lot of details are missing. I don't know if they're missing because they weren't in the dream, or if they were and I forgot about them. Probably a combinaton of both. For example, I can't recall the first possession, if it ever happened. But it's ok. Dreams don't really matter in real life. In the context of the plot, the ambiguity is healthy.

My dreams, at least the ones I remember, are usually as such. There's a lot of cutting and usually the overall plot is incoherent. Come to think of it, some details in the above account may have been superimposed by me. A number of these dreams are very gripping, if for no perceptible reason at all. That is, in the dream I recall being very fixated over things, very breathless. I don't wake up with a start like you see in shows. I just open my eyes and lie on the bed, as though I have just been released from a physical claw. To maintain the utmost fidelity to my dreams however, I've learnt to pen down the details as quickly as I can, while replaying the scenes over and over in their sequence so I won't forget them. It's always like a race, the fabric of the dream dissipating by the second while I try to capture as much of it onto paper, though it is always a mediocre attempt because dreams of any kind, not just the best, have one and only one moment of vitality and they cannot be resurrected in any form once the transition to a conscious state has been made.