giddy up

I carried a notebook around and jotted down the stuff I saw - and wrote.

Day Two - 04.02.2011

Morning glory? Off-school day, I thought I'd get a good long sleep. But no, instead I had to wake up at 6 in the morning and face under-eye circles in the mirror and watch my silhouette make it's way to the bathroom. Ah, coffee is refreshing. Guess where we were going?

KL.

Seriously, I'm not even joking. I decided to bring my small handbook and note down all the things I see, or rather imagine. Start of a new day!
My dream wasn't any creepy, compared to the other mysterious dreams I've been getting, that got my mind to tell me that it's a sign. Psht, true enough for someone like me. (I know you probably don't get me. Har har.) No mythical(?) creatures or vampires and dragons and werewolves and faeries and blah blah blah. Scary shiz that they make movies out of.
Confessing - I had this discomfort in my stomach. 'Oh, like you always do. Big news! -.-' Absolutely not. It wasn't the usual discomfort I get at night when I think of blood and dandruff, but a kind of nausea feeling. It - the dream - was about clocks and apparently painting. Oh, the irony.
Scenes and snapshots of me painting and of different clocks softly collided in my dream as I watched each snapshot shatter. Who knew pictures can even shatter. I got that scary feeling that makes you tick and want to scream for no apparent reason. Followed by a series of scenes with people telling me very motivating stuff, like "it's over", and "times up", and "giddy up, kid", and "hurry up". I couldn't make sense of it all. After a few moments of brain-cracking, I figured it's like any other signs I get. Time. Is. Running. Out.

I woke up with beads of cold sweat tickling my forehead.

Just bear with me, I'm probably thinking extremely negative right now.
We walked to the crowded food court in KLCC. It didn't stink with sweat of indian people - no racism, thank you, just that there were so many of them there. I had a spicy Taco with Nachos and Strawberry Fizz. It was heaven, I tell you. Instead of just mingling around, looking for usual food like Tom Yam or Olio, I craved for Mexican food.

It was probably just me, but I felt like the ground was shaking and almost going to crash anytime. I tried switching places 7 times, but I felt the same thing at all seats. I know it weren't my feet shaking. If my feet were shaking and trembling, my whole body would shake at least a bit, but it did not. So I knew it weren't my feet. I became dizzy and felt like passing out. I asked my sisters, "do you feel that .. thing? i think there's an earthquake coming." "no, there's nothing ina, stop over-exaggerating." 10 minutes after, my 2nd sister spoke up, "i feel it, ina. but it's nothing, really." "it's nothing to you. not to me." they obviously wouldn't understand a single bit.

My brother was pushing me around when we were wandering around in the food court, expecting to have some interest in any dessert. I pushed him back, he pushed me, I pushed him, he pushed me. And my shoulder already hurt with the stinging of his force. My brother always had that .. annoying-ness in him. He pushed me again, noticing my non-response. And I stumbled slightly, my head colliding with the head of a baby boy. Naturally, I said sorry. But I couldn't help thinking - babies are dying. Babies are dying. Babies are dying. Aaaand the boy started crying.

All we did that day was mostly eat, buy stuff, walk around, and walk around again. We were walking around the mall, passing clothing stores. The mannequins collided with each other and body parts fell off. But they didn't exactly fall. Instead, their head floated aimlessly around the room. I know, right. But this was all part of imagination. Now I don't see everyone having accidents for their deaths. I just see each and every person shatter, like glass almost. But they looked ceramic to my eyes. Not having blood in sight was refreshing. And I see the dolls' hands start moving.

It was probably because of my dreaminess and dizziness that made me imagine these things because I see buildings disappear as if by sequence. Even the banks and fountains started to disappear. We walked pass all kinds of people. Spanish, Russian, American, Australian and Indian mostly. I smiled to 3/4 of them upon natural behavior. And then a bearded man's head fell of. Oh, here it goes again.

We were in the car at that point, driving back to our hotel. Legendary hotel. (They had these palm-sized cigarette tins with grey sand, and an L moulded on it. Cool right?) We were watching The Simpsons Movie. Coincidentally enough, the story line was based on pollution. I KNOW RIGHT. Long story short, we passed a flooded village, and this area where everything was destroyed and looked terrible. I thought they only exist in movies when directors exaggerate the situation.

I've been getting cold sweat lately. I think it's because the weather is so hot, yet the malls are so cold. I sniffed at the sleeve of my shirt. Salty-smelling sweat. Yuck. I tip-toed my way to the bathroom, and stripped of all my clothes. I have no clue why, but I always feel like being watched. But maybe it's just a memory from a book transplanted in my head now. I turned the shower heat to highest and watched the water spill out. As if it was so hot, the steam rose and covered the glass door with fog, making everything almost opaque. The hot water was scorching my skin as it turned red and orange at the same time, it burnt my skin. But that didn't matter anymore. What hurt and burnt the most was the uneasiness in my chest. Like a huge brick was being placed on it. But I carried on using the bath salt in the shower. The bath salt was harsh on my skin, as it added to the effect the hot water had made.

I went to sleep and didn't know what to expect in my dreams.