I was in a beach, thin enough to wear a bikini (oh, snap), and my lover was waiting for me in a makeshift hut. I had my Sponge-Bob t-shirt on. My lover was the dashing martyr sort—imperial looks worn down by the futility of grandiose ideals. I took off my shirt to play around in the water for a bit. The beach was all cold black sand, and the sky was dark, heavy with vapour and foreshadows. A woman approached me to castigate me for my indecency. That was when I realized that I was in a changed society. Apparently, I had been off in another country/dimension, away from my homeland, and had just recently returned to live with my lover. And there was some kind of revolution, which sucked the life out of society, and everything was very The-Giver-like, everything whitewashed and stonewalled and regimented. So I put my shirt back on and walked over to my lover. And he put his arm around me, and we sort of just leaned against each other. And, I remember that part of the dream being acutely heartbreaking. This overwhelming surge of glutinous heartache, black and purple, just crashing down on us.
And then suddenly, change of scene. We were in some sort of workhouse. Everything was mint-green tiles, and tinged with mildew and the smell of smoke and grease. I was off in this partitioned room, making some sort of monstrous, revolutionary invention, which could potentially bring about the demise of the prevailing regime. I was some sort of welder, with the full-face mask and the leather apron and all; see, and I was making sparks fly with this hardcore-looking torch-gun and random pieces of scrap metal. My lover was in the other room, looking worried and resigned. And there were these other guys, greasy-looking guys, who were making fun of him because of me. And then suddenly, I was my lover, change of perspective. And everything was so bleak, so drenched in tragic resignation. I was just staring at this girl, wrapped in this filthy leather apron, her face obscured by one of those ominous masks, and I just had these unbearable strange thoughts about war, and death and wasted sacrifice. And defeat. Defeat so tremendous, that breathing hurt, and harbouring hope was some excruciating exercise in futility.
And then suddenly, I became “me” again, and I was at Playland. It was night and all of the lights were pink. And it was empty. And it didn’t look like Playland, it looked like Eastwood. Ok. And then I saw one of my high school batch mates, because she supposedly had some sort of gig at Playland-Eastwood. And she told me my friends were waiting for me at the parking lot (which looked like Greenhills). And then, as I walked to the parking lot, my lover came running towards me, naked. He’s very hairy, and his balls were bouncing all over the place. He grabbed my hand, and we walked together to the parking lot. And my friends were there. I asked them why. And one of them stepped forward and said, “to reinforce your morals”.
And then I woke up.
And then suddenly, change of scene. We were in some sort of workhouse. Everything was mint-green tiles, and tinged with mildew and the smell of smoke and grease. I was off in this partitioned room, making some sort of monstrous, revolutionary invention, which could potentially bring about the demise of the prevailing regime. I was some sort of welder, with the full-face mask and the leather apron and all; see, and I was making sparks fly with this hardcore-looking torch-gun and random pieces of scrap metal. My lover was in the other room, looking worried and resigned. And there were these other guys, greasy-looking guys, who were making fun of him because of me. And then suddenly, I was my lover, change of perspective. And everything was so bleak, so drenched in tragic resignation. I was just staring at this girl, wrapped in this filthy leather apron, her face obscured by one of those ominous masks, and I just had these unbearable strange thoughts about war, and death and wasted sacrifice. And defeat. Defeat so tremendous, that breathing hurt, and harbouring hope was some excruciating exercise in futility.
And then suddenly, I became “me” again, and I was at Playland. It was night and all of the lights were pink. And it was empty. And it didn’t look like Playland, it looked like Eastwood. Ok. And then I saw one of my high school batch mates, because she supposedly had some sort of gig at Playland-Eastwood. And she told me my friends were waiting for me at the parking lot (which looked like Greenhills). And then, as I walked to the parking lot, my lover came running towards me, naked. He’s very hairy, and his balls were bouncing all over the place. He grabbed my hand, and we walked together to the parking lot. And my friends were there. I asked them why. And one of them stepped forward and said, “to reinforce your morals”.
And then I woke up.
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