it's very seldom that i get to dream. and even if i get to dream, most of the time it's either a crap dream (which i will always forget 3-5 minutes after waking up) or a nightmare (which i ironically remember very well). it's seldom a happy dream about me doing glamorous things like receiving an Oscar for my performance as a queen with lesbian tendencies trying to blackmail a husband who's trying very hard to rescue his accidentally-assassinated fashionista wife while on a trip to Paris for fashion week. or the day when i become the first male nurse to take over the reins of the Director of Nursing in my current hospital of employment. or this dream will defintely put the rest to shame: me opening the St Jon's Power Hospital right beside the St James Power House (i'll buy over the old Prima flour factory).

but like they always say, Dream On.

anyways, it's been a very long time since i last had a any mental activity during sleep (and it's not like i have any during the waking hours even!). in fact, the latest dream i had was i think about a month back and frankly speaking, i can't remember what it was about. it involved something gay though. no wet dream coming from that, alas. well, last night, i just had the freakiest of nightmares. i actually woke up feeling breathless and horribly dramatic in my method of waking up. it's like one of those channel 8 dramas where the lead wakes up from a dream about death, all sweaty and panting and crying.

at least my nightmare got a bit of class. it was grainy and very brown. maybe it's the rust that practically enveloped the whole environment that i was in. kinda like Silent Hill, but an Asian remake. it's your typical storyline about teenagers stuck in a shopping mall. and one by one, they get killed by a murderer on the loose. as to why they were stuck inside... does it even matter? i just knew that from the point that i 'joined' the dream, 2 friends had already been killed. the remaining 4 friends were still clueless about what happened to them. i thought that they must have ran off to have sex in the nearest Seiyu.

this is very unglam, but i was the third person to die. the murderer would leave cryptic clues whenever he's about to kill the next victim. and i remember vividly what was written on the wall in blood: 'I kill boys who think they so modern'. yah, my killer got bad english. before i could even ponder upon what the entire sentence meant, someone slashed my calves with a chopper. blood spurted everywhere even though there were no major arteries around the calves. i couldn't walk. i could only turn around to look my killer in the face. awww... and given it was the last face i would see before i die, i think i'm damn unlucky. it really adds a new dimension to ugly.

he had really bad acne scarring. many pocked-marks all over the face. oily hair. and a face that resembles those men hanging out at your downstairs coffee shop, drinking beer and watching Channel 8 drama re-runs. plus bad fashion! it's prolly the definition of what i always make fun of, the gay guy who wears Giordano like it never went out of style, can't get good sex with other men and still lives with his mother. he grabbed my face and pulled me close, saying: 'I hate boys that think they so more-len'. and it scary, but he sounded like David Gan apparently. i woke up just as he proceeded to slash my face.

(cue horror-themed music)

the rest of the night was resolved with a cigarette break.

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