Dream Weaver

My baby is born

2006-04-27T08:59:00.000+12:00

My baby is born.

When I wake up, I hear someone say: it’s a boy! He weights 6.5 pounds!

“What a perfect weight!” I hear my mom says somewhere in the room.

I have a look at my baby. He is such a beautiful little thing! He has thick black hair and full teeth. I am surprised however, that he is dark skinned – Indianish kind of dark. I wonder where he got that colour from as I am Asian and hubby is white.

I try to remember what has happened during the labour. Unfortunately I can’t remember a thing. Apparently I’ve just had a caesarean birth. The whole thing just seems weird. No labour, no pain, no drama, no ordeal. I can’t even remember how I went to the hospital in the first place and what happened prior to the caesarean. As a matter of fact, I feel cheated. It’s like my memory on the whole birthing experience which is a holy and glorious experience to a mother is totally wiped out as if it has never happened. Instinctively I raise my upper body and want to know what happened on my tummy. To my great surprise, I can hardly see any scar! The cut was at the low end and on top of a scar I had from a surgery 17 months ago but was done in a way that it is almost unnoticeable. Mostly amazingly, my old scar seems to have vanished. Although I don’t understand, I am rather pleased with how the operation was done.

The next scene is at the beach. It is still the same day but my baby somehow looks like a two year old. He loves the beach too much and enjoys playing on the hot sand. I am a little worried about my new born baby and feel that we shouldn’t expose him in the hot sun for so long. Nevertheless we let him play for hours since he wouldn’t let us take him away from the beach.

I woke up the next morning with a sudden panic. “Oh my ….” I screamed. I realise that I haven’t fed my baby yet since he was born yesterday! “Where is my baby?” I become hysterical. I am soon relieved as my mom walks in the room and hands him over to me! I sit up in my bed and try to position him in a way so that I can breast feed him. I put him to my left nipple to encourage him to suck. I am quite anxious as I am not sure if I have any milk at all let alone if he would connect to it.

I feel hopeless for a minute. Despite his hard effort nothing seems to come out. But after a few seconds I start to feel the milk coming. But my baby spills his first taste of milk out as if he is protesting. “He doesn’t like my milk!” I feel so rejected and disappointed. But I am soon relieved and happy again as he continues to suck my nipples this time he is really enjoying the taste of it. I feel wonderful that my baby and I have established our first bonding so soon and so easy.

A drama play - Hamlett

2005-12-08T15:07:00.000+13:00

(I had this dream exactly a year ago - 8 December 2004!)

There is going to be a drama play. The drama is Shakespeare’s Hamlett, the place is in a park, and the players are students from two universities - Guangzhou Institute of Foreign Language and Guangzhou Institute of Foreign Trade. I am a representative from the latter and my university is the host for this show.

Hundreds people - both players and audiences are marching towards the park where the show takes place.

I find it hard to find my place. I mean, I am not sure if I will be just watching, or I will be playing. If I have to play, I certainly am not prepared or feel confident about this whole thing.

The show starts. It is a supposed to be a real life show as possible hence the venue is in a park instead of a stage. There are many characters, changing places and story lines. It is very grand.

Somehow I realise that I must be in the show and am playing one of the characters. Strange enough, I can’t understand any of what other players are saying. What language is it that they use?

I have only a few lines to say in my character. I manage to do my part. I find that I am the only one who speaks English and I can only understand my lines.

I suspect that they are using French. I must have asked other people and confirmed it. I also learn that the students from Guangzhou Institute of Foreign Language are required to master 18 languages, compared to my university where we are only required to learn English and can opt to learn Japanese.

I feel a little ripped off for not going to the other university and have lost the opportunities to learn so many languages.

"There are too many Gods!"

2005-11-27T09:08:00.000+13:00

My dream takes me back to ancient China, a time before a united kingdom was formed.

Our tribe lives in a village which looks like a big open market. I notice that we all wear robes and the city square is where everyone hangs out.

To prepare from an attack from another tribe, our tribe selected ten people as warriors and I am one of them. From the beginning I do not have faith in defeating our enemies as I have serious doubt as to why we only choose ten people to defend ourselves apparently common sense tells me we need a bigger defence force.

I am assigned to be the rocket carrier. (In those days guns and bullets had not yet been invented.) The rocket is a very long piece of gadget and is relatively light. I point it to the ground and fire it to test if it works. The first three shots nothing happens to the ground. Just when I begin to think this rocket is faulty, from the fourth shot on it causes explosion. I fire another two shots which also end with explosion.

The invaders - another tribe duly arrive. They come in hordes and with weapons. I shoot my rocket at them for several times which cause big explosion. However, the numbers of the invaders don’t appear to have decreased and they are making their way further and further into our village aggressively. I decide to flee as I see no point in direct confrontation any more.

At the back of the city square there is a temple which usually is full of worshippers. As I enter the temple, I see Dennis Cook (the National Manager for my current company) standing there with his daughter and a few other family members. I can hear her daughter’s praying. She is praying for good luck in her car purchase. In her prayers she names the brand, model, specifications and ideal price of the car she is going to buy. I feel strange about this scene as to me her praying doesn’t sound like a genuine worship to the God which is what the temple is for.

As they are about to finish and I can tell from Dennis’ impatient look that he can’t wait for everyone to leave so he can shut the door, I hurriedly left the temple.

Back again in the city square, there is a some kind of surrender ceremony. Obviously the attack is over and our tribe has been defeated. People are marching towards the city square for the ceremony, amongst them include my sister, my mother and my girlfriend and colleague Christina.

I am having a conversation with Christina and mention to her what I saw in the temple earlier. I tell her that I don’t understand why the attack should happen and peace interrupted.

“It’s because there are too many Gods!” She says. “Can’t you see already that all wars start with obsession of their individual God?”

Suddenly, everything starts to make sense.

............................

There are a number of symbols in this dream, namely: war/attack, warrior, weapon, temple, God, family, friends and authority figures. I am yet to string these pieces together to interpret this dream, here are what the dream dictionaries say about these symbols:

Temple
Represents your spiritual thinking, meditation and growth. It is also symbolic of your physical body and the attention you give it.

Attack
Being attacked by someone, signifies questions on your character and the need for you to defend yourself. You are feeling stressed, vulnerable and helpless. You may also be faced with difficult changed in your waking life.

Warrior
Represents life's challenges and your ability to confront them.

God
To dream that you are worshipping God, signifies repentance of your actions and errors.

Weapons
To see or hold a weapon in your dream, indicates a need to defend and protect yourself emotionally and/or physically. You are experiencing some conflict in your waking life. Alternatively, it suggests a fear of sexuality.

Family
To see your own family in high spirits in your dream, symbolizes harmony and happiness. To see them gloomy, foretells of disappointment and sadness.

Friend
To see your friends in your dream, signifies aspects of your personality that you have rejected, but are ready to integrate these rejected part of yourself. The relationships you have with those around you are important in learning about yourself. Additionally, this symbol foretells of happy tidings from them and the arrival of good news.

Dare to interpret this dream for me?

Dating

2005-11-26T19:56:00.000+13:00

(My dream journal dated 4 October 2004)

I am dating my current husband. In China.

He is a tall, thin, handsome young Westerner. He lives in Hong Kong.

One day he invites me to visit his apartment in Hong Kong for the first time. I am very curious to find out what kind of life he lives in Hong Kong as I live in mainland China and have never been to Hong Kong.

We are walking on a crowded street. He holds my hands tight as if if he doesn’t do that he would lose me in the crowds.

There is a baby/toddler. For some reason we follow him and chase him. But he walks extremely fast and we can hardly keep up with him, especially in the crowded street. We lose him a few times and then find him again. Finally we have done a circle and the toddler comes home to his parents. My husband and I say to the parents: we have never seen a toddler walking so fast! His parents agreed.

We have arrived at the edge of a fault-line. There is a rift of around one meter wide between the two plates. We take a look in the rift. It is deep - so deep that you cannot see the bottom of it. We have to jump across the rift to reach the other plate. If we don’t jump through, we will fall into the core of the earth.

It is scary!

Although the rift is about one-metre wide and under normal circumstances I would have no problem jumping through, the thought of falling into the core of the earth imposes huge barriers in my minds. My husband has long legs. He jumps through and lands on the other side. He demonstrates to me that it is not that a difficult job. Encouraged by him, I take a deep breath. Like doing a long-distance jump, I jump through also.

We have almost arrived in front of his apartment building. But we can’t get in. Why? There is a flood. The flood is so bad that it is chest high. He is virtually swimming trying to get to the security door of the building. But the flood makes it very hard for him. He is struggling. And his clothes are washed away as I watch him.

He must have somehow reached his mailbox and checked his mail. When he is able to return to me, he tells me that he can’t take me to his apartment because of the flood. Also he has just found that he has lost his job.

“Never mind!” I said to him. “You can now move in with me!”

I take him to my small apartment. It is not luxurious, but it has basic furniture. It is safe and cosy enough for us.

...............................

The following is my dream interpretation afterwards:

It is obvious what this dream is about.

It reflects what happened to me recently and the journey I went through with my husband.

The flood, losing apartment and job indicates that life is unpredictable and always surprises us. Misfortune happens beyond our control, like the operations I had to go through recently.

The fast walking toddler is a reflection of what we want in life - baby. However, despite we got close, we did not catch it eventually. It's beyond reach.

The rift between the plates shows my fear. Although it is a small gap to stride across safely, I was fearful that I might fall into the darkness and not make it.

Of course, despite flood, losing job and apartment, not catching the toddler... all is not lost and there is a happy ending: we still have each other at the end of the journey.

Injured Bird

2005-11-18T09:04:00.000+13:00

I had some interesting dreams both last night and the night before. Let me start with the dream I woke up this morning first.

Hubby and I are out on a street, walking. Although the whole place looks like a small town in New Zealand, the moderate crowdedness actually makes it kind of like a small town in Asia. However, the place is very clean. We have to walk through a few concrete stairs to get to an upper level. When we get to the upper level we turn left and find a corner shop. We walk in. Hubby finds a table and sits down. The shop is like the ones in Hong Kong- very small but very neat and they serve good snack food with a combination of Asian and Western style. Hubby orders a big Kiwi Breakfast – sausages, eggs & toast. He asks me what I would like to have.

I am not in the mood to order anything. As a matter of fact, I don’t even pay any attention to what’s on the menu. With my mind on something else I tell him to get me a Danish and a hot chocolate drink made with soy milk. I say to him that I must go home to check on something.

When I get home, I find an injured bird. The bird has no wings and no feathers – just a bare body. It appears someone has ripped its wings and feathers off. The wings and feathers are actually on the floor, not too away from the body.

I feel terribly sorry for the bird. I want to save it but not sure how. At that time my childhood neighbour, Lee, happens to walk past by. I stop him and ask him if he thinks the bird is going to survive. He would be five or six years older than me. He tells me no.

This is all that I can remember although there must be much more.

Now coming back to the dream I had the night before.

It is very early in the morning. I leave home for work. It’s somewhat foggy and dark. As I walk past a village (the village has a big gate and a spacious concrete ground in front of the gate), one man beside a van stops me and asks: “hey Ella haven’t you applied for a job in my company? Would you like to have a quick interview with me before I go to work?”

He is a very tall, thin man. I have a peep in his van and see many cameras and studio gadgets. Apparently he is one of the two co-owners of a TV production company. I am a little confused and feel strange as I don’t think I know him. Neither do I remember that I have applied for a job in this company.

I can’t remember what I say to him but obviously I must have agreed to have this interview with him as he brings out a notebook from his van and asks me some interview questions from the notebook. I answer the questions. I don’t feel anxious or enthusiastic. I think the correct way to put would be: I go through the motions but not emotions.

When we have finished the questions and answers, he tells me that he has to leave but would let his colleague to take over the rest of the interview. I now begin to notice that his colleague, also a tall, thin man with very similar style is standing beside us…

I don’t remember the rest of the dream.

Foreigners In China

2005-11-11T18:34:00.000+13:00

(My dream journal of 18 December 2004)

In a populated place, I see a few foreigners. They are all large and overweight. These men and women look like blue collar workers - not like most foreigners in China, who are sophisticated business people, students, scholars or travellers.

I see a young, thin, small Chinese lady. After talking to her, I find out that she is an interpreter for those foreigners. She tells me that these foreigners work for a local shipping company. They are all labourers. Since the shipping company handles large goods which are normally heavy, the company recruits large foreigners who are physically more capable for the job. She also tells me that this is a new trend in China - recruiting foreigners as labour workers. The world is changing. We no longer solely need foreign intellectual workers.

Her job at the moment is to meet a new foreigner who has just arrived and help him to settle. The new comer is a large, bold, forty something wearing an old wrinkly black T-shirt and shorts. She has arranged for a taxi to take him to the village where he is going to live.

At the reception of the company’s apartment, she is surprised to be told that there is no accommodation arrangement for the new comer. She talks to a person who appears a local senior management person about helping out this new comer. He says he owns two apartments - one with one bedroom and one with two bedrooms. However, if he lets this new comer stay in his place, he might get himself in trouble. According to the local law, one cannot offer accommodation to a foreigner without informing the local authority. He regrets not being able to help and blames the complicated communist law.

When she returns to the taxi, she is surprised that the taxi driver charges her ¥200. She thinks that the taxi driver could have turned the engine off so the meter would snooze during his waiting for her to sort out things for the foreigner at the village which takes a few hours rather than charging her for the waiting. The waiting costs more than the mileage.

………………………

My husband and I come to the village. We think we might find some fun and things to do, since we understand it’s a village with a lot of foreigners. To our disappointment this village is far from modern and clean and the residents are not the kind of people we feel comfortable socialising with. There is an entertainment room for the foreign residents where they can chat, watch TV, or singing Karaoke, but it is far too shabby. We decide to leave.

There is a foreign woman just returning to the village. She appears drunk or sick. She stumbles and tries to get hold of a tree. We think she’s going to vomit. When she is a little better, she regroups herself and walks away.

……………

We are still in the village. My husband enters a building to sort something and I am waiting at the entrance. I get bored waiting in the same spot and wander around but not too far away from where I was. I wait for a long time until the day is almost over and few people are left in the building. I gather that my husband must have finished his business and since he didn’t see me at the entrance, he left without me.

I am angry with him. He should have looked for me. He should have known that I’ve been waiting for him. He shouldn’t have taken off without checking thoroughly.

……. ………….

My husband and I are on a ferry. I am so tired and desperately wanting to get some sleep. I lean to him and he holds me. Very understandingly, he says to me: Go to sleep, baby! I’ll hold you.

Baby Died

2005-11-02T10:20:00.000+13:00

Last night I had a nightmare:

We have a new born baby. The baby is very tiny as I can put him on my palm. I wash him diligently every day on my palm with warm water. He seems to be happy with that. Then he dies, suddenly. I don’t understand.

After some reflection, it is believed that my baby died of severe burn. Basically I boiled him to death gradually by washing him everyday in what I believed as ‘warm water’. While the water temperature was right for me, it was too hot for my baby but I didn’t know. I had never thought that my baby had such delicate skin as such he was not supposed to endure the same water temperature. My realisation came far too late.

A Poetry Recital

2005-10-30T19:03:00.000+13:00

(My dream journal dated 6 October 2004)

A poetry recital was to take place at the University, where poetry fans would have an opportunity to exchange their poems as well as the general audiences.

I had written a poem. I was very pleased with the poem I wrote. It was a one-page poem, not too long, and not too short. The reason I was extremely pleased and proud of it was that it was dedicated to my bother. When you poured your heart into writing something, you just knew that it was a great piece of work, regardless how others would judge.

Although it appeared I had plenty of time to write it and prepare for the recital, the night was fast approaching. I was getting ready for my recital in my dormitory. Although there were no rules that I needed to recite my poem without referring to notes, I wish I could. And because I did not feel I could do it, I was a bit panicking.

When it was my turn to present my poem, I was in the middle of the University hall where there were several thousands of people. I stood up and started my recital but it seemed I got stuck and had to clear my throat. I was a little nervous when I first heard my voice which seemed to echo in the big hall and I could not believe that I was speaking in front of such a big audience. But once I got myself into it, I forgot about the audience, the hall, and everything. All I could remember was my poem, and my emotions in it. The emotions were the same as the ones I had during the process of writing. I discovered that after all, I was able finish the recital without having to refer to my notes.

It was kind of strange as I didn’t think I could do it, without feeling nervous and without referring to my notes. Somehow I did it and it felt great. It was not as difficult and impossible as I had thought.

The Realiy of Dreams

2005-10-27T20:33:00.000+13:00

Is our normal waking lives a dream? Is the real world so distorted in our eyes it is actually an illusion? Are we all part of this great illusion? Am I awake? Are you awake? Am I in a dream adding this post to this Blog???

Read the following Taoist tale, written well over two thousand years ago, which illustrates the paradoxical nature of dream and waking realities:

There was a man of Cheng who killed a deer and, fearing someone might find it, hid it in a ditch until he was ready to go home. But when he came back later he could not find the animal. He concluded he must have been dreaming.

A passer-by heard him muttering to himself about the affair and, acting upon what he heard, found the deer. When he returned home he told his wife: “Just now a woodcutter dreamed he had caught a deer, but did not know where it was. Now I have found it. His dream was a true one.”

“Isn’t it rather that you dreamed you saw a wood-cutter catch the deer? Since you have really got the deer, isn’t it your dream that was true?”

“All I know is that I have got it. What do I care which of us was dreaming?”

When the woodcutter got home he had a true dream of the place where he had hidden the deer, and of the man who found it. Next morning, guided by his dream, he confronted the man and then went to law to contest his right to the deer.

The Justice said: “If in the first place you really caught the deer, you are wrong to say that you were dreaming. If you really were dreaming, then you are wrong to say it actually happened. The other man contests your right to it. His wife says that he recognises it in his dream as another man’s deer, yet denies the existence of the man who caught it. All I know is that we have a deer, so I suggest you divide it between you.”

When reported to the Lord of Cheng, he commented: “Alas! Is the Justice dreaming he has divided someone’s deer?”

The Prime Minister was consulted, who said: “ It is beyond me to distinguish dreaming from non-dreaming. Only the Yellow Emperor or Confucius could have told you and they are dead. For the present we may as well trust the decision of the Justice.”

Being A Sumo

2005-10-27T07:38:00.000+13:00

I am a Japanese female sumo. My opposition is a Japanese male sumo. Strange enough neither of us is fat. I have four disciples - four young men. They go wherever I go, and protect me if necessary.

I come across my opposition all the time. However, I always try to avoid him, as according to the ritual: whenever we come across each other, we must have a fight. Yet he is the No. 1 sumo of the time! It seems it’s always me who spot him first, whether it’s on the street or in a Tea House. In these occasions my disciples would automatically form some kind of ‘fortress’ to hide me from his view.

Twenty years later, I am finally ready and is not afraid of him any more. Not only have I trained myself well to be a First Class sumo, over the years my opposition has become complacent and lost his guard and ambition.

My disciples and I are on our way to a Japanese Tea House and we are walking along a labyrinth outside the Tea House where we come across my opposition. He doesn’t look half as good as before and certainly has some signs of aging. He looks old, saggy and lonely - a totally different person from twenty years ago when he was an arrogant yet competitive young sumo.

Dancing Class

2005-10-24T22:41:00.000+13:00

There are about seven or eight of us girls. We are in a dancing class (ball room dancing). The classroom is not indoors. It’s outdoors on a long strip of concrete area divided by a bar. The long strip of concrete floor is somewhat sloping.

The tutor is a short man (I’d say he is no more than 170cm). He is a middle aged Asian man and has a flat face. He wears a navy blue jacket and cream pants. Since I stand closest to him, he asks me to dance with him to demonstrate and explain to the rest of the class about dancing.

With my high heels he is about the same height as me. Without him directing me what to do, I have found a perfect alignment with him already. I think he is slightly surprised that I naturally lean backwards like a professional dancer and let his arm on my waist control my whole body. And the dancing starts. It only takes a few steps for me to get used to him before we dance like a pair of tacit long-term dancing partners as we find the perfect rhythm and pace in each other. As we dance with the music, we find ourselves almost flying.

It feels wonderful. During dancing a sense of connection has emerged - it’s an attraction but it’s certainly not physical attraction or chemistry, nor lust or love. It’s more like a sense of fulfilment when someone brings a dormant talent out of you and it feels damn alive and sexy!

After the class we walk back together. The tutor asks me as to why he’s never seen me wear skirt before. He tells me that I look absolutely stunning in my skirt. I am wearing a tight, white mid-sleeve cotton T-shirt and a red tartan skirt. I think he is right! I think I look more feminie when I wear skirts than pants. While wearing jeans reveals my shape which I am proud of, it doesn’t give me the gentle touch like the skirts do. I start to imagine as to what kind of skirts would look good on me.

Ex-boyfriend

2005-10-22T11:26:00.000+13:00

Talking about intimate relationships, there were two people that I loved heart and soul before I met hubby. One of them is Lewis. I met him during playing tennis and almost immediately we fell in love. I found him very attractive, sexy, playful and manly as he was sporty, rode a motorbike, and was a hi-fi fan like me.

Our relationship reached peak after peak. The whole time we were together I was in a state of ecstasy (I‘ve never had this degree of ecstasy in any other relationships). Then one day I found that he was still seeing his ex-girlfriend. I was devastated and deeply hurt. I knew that I had to leave him.

Last night for the first time in ten years Lewis came to my dream. Here is the dream:

He has just quit his job in the Municipal Sports Committee as one of his friends has offered him a job in the Municipal Museum and promised him heaps of opportunities and benefits. Although I can’t comprehend what these opportunities and benefits are considering the vast difference in the nature between the two jobs, I feel very happy for him. The job offers him $4,000 a month - although not too attractive on the surface, it comes with a house accommodation which to me is a reasonable package. While some of his friends don’t think this move is wise, I fully stand by him and encourage him to take it for a change. (According to my dream, at this stage I am somewhat his girlfriend but we are not exclusive or serious.)

I really want to see him have an uplift in life and be a success in his family. He is the youngest child in the family. His family is very unfortunate in that his sister and two brothers together with his mother have all passed away, leaving him and his father behind. I imagine his father would want to see him settle down, get married and start a family. (Please note that this is the story in my dream. I don't know anything about his family or siblings.)

Lewis, I and a couple (his friends) are have dinner in his place. His friends are teasing and joking about Lewis and me. I think they are kind of probing as to when we are going to tie the knot. Lewis is slightly embarrassed as he knows that we are not yet that serious in the relationship.

I stand up and grab him. I look at him in the eye and say to him: ‘Lewis, I want to be with you! I love you and I want us to be together!’ This happens suddenly and I am shocked by my response. However, I know that what I said was from the bottom of my heart. I have awakened suddenly, and realised that he is the true love of my life.

You Can Smell In A Dream!

2005-10-17T08:47:00.000+13:00

In my dream I visited a former colleague of mine who is now running a business of his own. While I was in his business premise, I was a little surprised to discover that he seemed doing very well as he had about seven or eight stuff and they were very busy. (He only left my company a few weeks ago). I also saw a current colleague of mine who worked as his PA. (This colleague has actually resigned and tomorrow is her last day).

I was chatting with both of them outside their office. It was an open area with a wooden table and benches. It was a friendly and warm atmosphere and I felt we were building very strong rapport. As I was very close to him, suddenly I could smell the tinge of tobacco from him – the smell smokers usually carry with them although they are normally not aware of it. My admiration, our rapport, and my interest in him and his business suddenly took a U-turn….. all from that tinge of smell of tobacco. I hadn’t known that he was a smoker!

Britney Spears

2005-10-11T06:55:00.000+13:00

My dream actually has three parts:

Part I: Britney

I work for Britney Spears (not sure what my role is). She’s just had her baby. She gives each of us (who work for her) some presents as a gesture of thanking us for our support. Everyone gets something different. I get a sealed plastic bag (not wrapped as a present). There is a tube of lotion in it. But when I open the bag I find four smaller tubes. They are a complete set of cosmetics including day lotion, evening lotion, eye cream, cleaning milk, and essence. They are obviously Japanese products as they all have Japanese labels.

Britney feels it’s about time to make a public appearance (an announcement) about her marriage after all the allegations and rumours about her marriage which were all untrue. She says that she is one of the luckiest wife in the world as Kevin is a very caring and loving person. She is proud to have such a perfect husband.

Part II: Baptism

A ceremony is held for me. It’s like a baptism but it’s less formal than that. The group who conducts the ceremony for me are Christians. Although strictly speaking I am not a Christian nor do I intend to be one, they want to conduct this ceremony for me just the same to accept me because they think I am just as faithful as a Christian in terms of how I conduct my life as my life attitude and philosophy is no different from theirs.

Part III: ex-boyfriend
It’s a dark yet crispy evening. My ex-boyfriend (my first love) asks me if I want to go out for a walk. I happily agree. He is very much in love with me. He holds my hands tight as we walk in a lovely and pleasant setting. The place is very idyllic and there are many stars in the sky. During our walk, he tells me that he is fed up with living a life busy making money while ignoring his real passion for life - acting. He says that he has decided to walk away from his prosperous career which offers no satisfaction and pursue acting.

Juggling Morning

2005-10-07T21:49:00.000+13:00

These days I have not been keeping my dream journals up to date as I would have liked to. This is not because my dreams have stopped. I still wake up most mornings remembering my dreams vividly. However, to keep this hobby means other things have to give way as there are only so many hours in the morning. It is unrealistic to pack everything (pilates, running, writing, studying, meditation and love making) in in the precious couple of hours before I give myself to work.

Sometimes I wonder why life has to be so busy ...

Entrance Exams

2005-09-26T20:07:00.000+12:00

(My dream journal dated 25 June 2005)

I have just done the series of National Entrance Exams for University (in China).

There are six exams altogether. I finish my last exam on English in the morning. It is late afternoon. My English teacher is on the panel of marking the exam papers and he has just finished his first round of marking the exam papers.

“There are some pleasing results.” He said to a bunch of his students including me. “Two of my students achieved 100%”.

At first I almost believe that I am one of the two students. But since he does not tell me in person that I get 100%, I begin to doubt it. I have known the result of one other subject already - Chinese. I get 117 (out of 120). I am very happy with that, I must say.

To remove my doubt, I muster the courage and approach my English teacher, and ask him if I am one of the two students who achieved 100%. He says: “Of course you are! Who else do you think would be?”

I am relieved.

I feel very good with my overall exams. The results of the Chinese and English are just an assurance. With this momentum, I am sure I would be able to choose any University I want to go. At that time, someone asks me which University I’d like to go.

“University in Shanghai, of course.” I replied. “As that’s the economic forefront at the moment. Besides, I can learn a bit Shanghainese.”

The statement soon turns to be self-contradictory as when I start to fill out the application form, I have consideration of only two Universities - Beijing University of Foreign Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs and Institute of Beijing 2nd Foreign Language. None of them is in Shanghai, but both of them are the best Universities in China in the area of foreign languages and international diplomacy.

I think I am going to choose Beijing University of Foreign Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs after consulting someone who is in the know and tells me that the attitude of the students from the Institute of Beijing 2nd Foreign Language sucks because they thought they are so elite and extraordinary as such most of them are an arrogant bunch.

Tigers, My Parents and Me

2005-09-26T20:03:00.000+12:00

(My dream journal of 25 December 2004)

There are two tigers at large, and I am escaping from them.

I run back home, closing the door behind me. As if one door is not secure enough, I enter the next room, and the next, and the next… I try to lock all the doors. However, I still feel unsafe. The locks are those old fashioned ones and you push the latch into the other part. The two parts are not installed properly and are not exactly in the same line which makes it very difficult to push one part of the latch into the other part completely.

I wish we’d had better locks - locks that could save my life. I wait nervously to see if the tigers have broken in…Indeed they did, and I can hear them coming, closer and closer.

The last room in the house is my parents bedroom. I am so desperate now and I know that the only way I can escape is through my parents bedroom and get out from the door at the other end.

I get out of the house successfully. However, I am worried sick about my parents‘ safety. In a few minutes or seconds, they will wake up in huge shock. I have no idea what they are going to do with the tigers. I am worried that they are not going to be prepared or equipped upon the invasion of the wild cats.

In the meanwhile, I am not totally out of the scene of tigers. Somehow there are another two tigers - a cub and its mother. This time I am not panicking as I find myself very fond of the cub and start stroking on its back - the most natural things to do, to make it feel comfortable. I don’t feel threatened by anything, and the mother tiger is not aggressive at all. I feel the bond between me, the cub and its mother.

I see my parents coming out of the house. What a nice surprise! Apparently they have found a way to keep those two tigers under control. They are both injured and there are scratches all over their bodies from the tigers. However, the injuries don’t appear very serious.

I am very curious as to what happened to them. They explain to me that when they awoke by the tigers they panicked at first and fumbled to fight them. But they soon gained their composure and came up with a strategy. They realised that they must befriend the tigers and look after them, instead of treating them as enemies. They stopped their defensive mode, and started to relax. It was when they made eye contact with the tigers did the whole scenario changed miraculously. The tigers somehow saw kindness in their eyes and stopped being aggressive immediately. They somehow became allies.

“Shall I take you to the hospital, mum?” I ask.

“Yes please. By the way, your father is injured too. Are you taking us both to the hospital?”

“Sure… sorry Dad!”. I make a face to my father.

Ocean And Angels

2005-09-26T10:43:00.000+12:00

I am on a mountain. Underneath I can see an ocean.

In the ocean, on one side I see seahorses, sea elephants, whales and dolphins. They are not life sizes but hundreds times bigger than life size. The ocean is calm and they co-exist peacefully like one big family.

On another side of the ocean I see angels, about twenty of them. They are all females. Like the sea creatures, the angels are also gigantic. They are very tall and slender. They talk to each other and giggle, very happy.

The person with me says to me that if these angels are so happy, we should adopt the same diet which could benefit us. Although I can see his point, I am not entirely sure. I think that their diet could have too much salt in it.

When the angels get out of the water and land on the shore, my friend and I join them. We naturally mingle as a group. The angels lead us to somewhere and I remember that we have to go down some wooden stairs one by one.

(There are bits and pieces which I can not retrieve now but the following is still very vivid:)

There is a story about these angels. The story takes me back to an old huge mansion owned by a wealthy business man. All these angels were once his misses. He had a wife already. Every time his wife returned home was the time he killed one of his misses because he didn't want his wife to know about his misses. One minute he would be in the middle of playing with his misses and everything was perfectly normal, and the next minute he would kill his missis violently and quickly. All the ones he killed were either buried under the mansion or built in the walls. This story was never recorded or revealed somehow I accessed this memory in the universe. (In my dream, I understood and can rationalise how I got this story)

Apparently all these young ladies have formed one big family and have transcended into angels. They now live happily ever after as angels.

The Ring

2005-09-25T09:03:00.000+12:00

(My dream journal of 20 April 2004)

I was in a filming crew. The crew included Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston.

Before they went off shooting, Jennifer asked me to take care of her ring as she can’t wear her own ring to do the shooting. She took the ring off her fingers and gave it to me and off she went.

I had a good look at the ring. I was surprised to discover that it was not a glamorous ring at all - not what I would expect from a celebrity like her. More bizarre, the ring looked similar to mine. Her ring was simple but very nice. Obviously it was specially designed and she had a taste for simplicity.

I had thought about where to keep the ring. It didn’t take long for me to realise that perhaps the best way to keep her ring for a few hours is to wear it on my fingers. I put it on my ring finger first, oops, too loose! I changed to my middle finger this time, and it felt perfect.

When Brad and Jennifer came back from the film shooting, Jennifer asked me where her ring was. I took the ring off my finger and gave it back to her. She did not seem very happy that it was on my finger and questioned why. I explained that I had to wear it on my finger to make sure it wouldn’t go missing! She seemed okay with that and happily walked away with Brad.

Enter Me

2005-09-21T08:23:00.000+12:00

Di is my childhood friend.

She is now the mother of three young cute daughters. Although she is a capable, positive and bubbly woman, she hasn’t been very fortunate in relationships as the three daughters were from two men who she no longer has a relationship with.

She tells me that she is moving away to live in another country.

‘Where are you moving to?’ I ask.

She tells me she is immigrating to Iran.

‘Are you immigrating to Iran?’ I feel I need her confirmation although I have heard what she said.

She tells me that she is now with her partner who is an Iranian. He is doing import and export business. They are going to spend winter in Iran and summer here.

Also with me is my childhood friend, Shu. Shu, Di and I used to be part of a circle of friends. Shu lies there on the ground with one leg bent, the other on top of it.

‘You know there are two Chinese herbs you women can use for contraception.’ He says.

I wonder why he starts such a topic as I am not sure what to say. I have a look at my sister who is nearby. She doesn’t know what to say either. We think a guy talking such things is somewhat funny but in the meantime it’s hard to respond for a woman.

‘You know some women take injections but that doesn’t mean they are that clean.’ He continues.

Again my sister and I remain silent. I wonder if what he meant refers to contraceptive injections. If so, he was right of course as injection can be an effective and hassle free contraceptive method but that doesn’t mean a man (from his point of view) is having safe sex.

It appears Shu is very open about this subject. I feel very safe, and ask him the following question:

‘Does that mean… you don’t mind using condoms then?’

‘Not at all.’ He replies.

I start to like him. It is easy for me to accept such an honest and considerate man. He seems to have nothing to hide and he deals with real issues in life with a mature attitude. I move close to him and lie down next to him.

We cuddle together. His arms wrap around me. I respond passionately. I don’t know what is it that’s between him and me but there is certainly some connection. In his arms I feel warm and safe. He is like my rock. I yearn for him to enter me as that seems to be the most natural thing to happen.

................

I was somewhat half asleep and half awake, realising hubby was holding me tight. He was awake too. It was mid-night.

I also realised that the warm and fuzzy feeling in my dream was exactly the feeling I was having now with hubby. Shu, the person in my dream, was nothing but a substitute figure for hubby. The feeling was the same - the warmth, the connection, the acceptance, the yearning…

Apparently hubby was in the same mood and state as me. We made passionate love... then drifted to sleep...

New Job

2005-09-18T08:07:00.000+12:00

(My dream journal dated 21 May 2005)

I’ve been in the current job for five years. A sense of dullness starts to sink in. It’s time for a change.

I get a new job in a law firm as a legal secretary. I think by working in a law firm I could learn a lot of legal side of things which will be valuable for me. Not only that, they pay me reasonably well - $46,000 per annum.

It’s my first day in the new job. I note that there are four lawyers in this firm - all of the four partners are male. Funny enough they all look similar - dressed in dark suits and all appear either in their thirties or forties. There are three young ladies who are the secretaries or assistants.

“They must be doing well then, if they can afford three secretaries in a firm of four lawyers.” I think.

The lawyers all seem very busy. I don’t know which one is my boss as no one makes a special effort to talk to me. They are constantly on the go.

The receptionist at the front desk is kind enough to volunteered herself to give me a tour in the office but it is very brief. I am disappointed that they don’t seem to have a plan for me as a new person to help me to fit in. I feel no personal touch either.

Then I am given a handwritten document by a lawyer who asks me to type it out for him. I take the draft document with me and sit in front of my desk to type. During typing I am wondering as to why they bothered to employ me as it seems to me that what they need is a typist. I am not really a typist material.

After four days in my new job, I feel terrible about it. Not only I feel under-utilised, nobody seems to have time for me. I must leave this new job.

I want my old job back. I know my previous organisation has no grudge against its previous employees so I approach Bruce my old boss and ask him if it’s possible for me to have my old job back.

He says unfortunately the moment I left he had to replace me. Even though it’s only been a few days he has had my position filled already and the replacement is a young lady who was a solicitor before. I understand that this is not a reflection on his unwillingness to support, he simply doesn’t have a job to give me now.

Attending to wedding

2005-09-12T10:22:00.000+12:00

My sister works as a PA. She is going away for a short period. I ask where she is going. She tells me that she is going away to attend her boss’s wedding. The wedding will take place in three different cities: Nan Jing, Nan Ning and Nan Chang. She also explains to me the reason for three wedding ceremonies: One is her boss’s hometown, one is her wife’s hometown, and one is where they both lived for some time.

Interesting enough, all the three cities have Nan in its name. In Chinese, Nan means ‘south’. Nan Jing is in east China, Nan Ning is in West China and Nan Chang is in central China.

I am a bit curious that her boss is getting married. I tell my sister that just about a month ago I knew they had no plans to tie the knots. My sister tells me that they’ve only recently decided to get married and apparently that’s what they want to do.

In the Bank

2005-09-11T20:48:00.000+12:00

(My dream journal dated 10 April 2005)

My husband and I are in a bank.

This bank is nothing like the banks here in New Zealand, where we normally do our dealings through the counter or talk to an bank consultant at his/her desk or office. Rather, it is a big open-plan office. There are many banking consultants in this office, most of them are female. There is no office partition to divide the office space. It looks like an open market as a matter of fact.

I am talking to a female banking consultant with my husband nearby somewhere. The consultant looks in her forties. Although appearing friendly to me, I feel that she is only half hearted in her job. I don’t think she is that interested in helping me sort out my finance.

I ask her to withdraw a lump sum from our joint bank account. Instead of warning me that such big amount of cash perhaps is not the most sensible thing to do, she processes it without asking any question or given any advice. Watching her counting the notes, I suddenly realise that there is a risk for me to carry so much cash with me walking on the street as it amounts to $14,000. I am a bit worried at this point and start looking for my husband. I yell his name, almost like a screaming. I am sure the whole office can hear me. When I find him, I try to explain to him that I don’t feel comfortable with carrying so much cash. We then both try to get the banking consultant to change our instructions and issue a bank cheque instead of giving us the cash. She says that the transaction has already been effected and cannot be reversed.

When she gives me the cash, I notice that my handbag is too small to contain it all. As we frustratingly exit the office, there is a stand-alone front-line reception at the entrance. There is an Asian man standing behind a huge desk. He looks like in his twenties and I wonder if he is a new graduate. Unlike our banking consultant, he appears very friendly and dedicated to helping customers. We ask him if it is possible if we re-deposit the cash we have just drawn and ask for a bank cheque for the same amount.

He says no problem. We are pleased that he is so helpful. However, he explains that the bank cheque won’t be a round figure of $14,000. There is a small loss incurred due to the foreign exchange difference between the buy rate and sell rate. We got a sell rate when we cashed out which was in our favour. However, since we now want to re-deposit it back the buy rate would apply this time, which is lower than the sell rate. Effectively the cheque amount would be something like $13,7##.

I tell my husband that we’ve just been taught a lesson over this money transaction and we need to be careful on our money matters in the future.

Approaching Death

2005-09-09T08:25:00.000+12:00

I am old, very old. As a matter of fact, I am dying.

I have a bladder that I can no longer control. I hardly move. The life sap is waning. I know that I am dying.

There is no emotion – no sadness, no happiness, no hope, no regret, no anger and no frustrations. My emotional state is completely neutral and void, like the way nature should be.

My sister is beside me. She is still young.

I am ready to die, maybe in a few hours, maybe in a few days, or maybe, in a few weeks. I am okay with that.

But suddenly, I realise that there is one important thing which I’ve almost forgotten! At this very moment, while I still have a few breaths before I go, I know I can still write a letter! This letter will be addressed to my family, close friends and all the people who have cared about me. In my letter, I will tell them that they don’t need to mourn for my death. They don’t need to hold a funeral for me. If they have loved me, that’s good enough for me. There is no point in wasting time and energy to dwell on sadness and grief. If they’ve loved me and I’ve loved them, what sadness is there to mourn? I will also tell them that I want them to move on and carry on with their individual life, do whatever is important in their life. If they don’t want to mourn their own death, the only thing they need to do is to enjoy each living moment.

I am a Lucid Dreamer!

2005-09-04T20:30:00.000+12:00

Pat (a colleague of mine) is drawing a sketch at her desk.

I have a look at what’s on the sketch. It looks like the twin tower in New York.

“I had a dream last night. I dreamed that the twin tower is still there and this is what it looks like.” Pat says.

“What a coincidence, Pat! I have had at least two dreams recently of the twin tower. Just like yours. The twin tower hasn't gone at all.”
(My dream journal dated 12 December 2004)

..........

Do you know what a lucid dream is?

According to a source: “During a lucid dream, we know that we are dreaming while it is occurring. While the body sleeps, we feel ‘awake’ in a world which has the qualities of a regular dream, and we are able to think clearly, act willfully, and change the course of the dream around us.” The source further listed the following characters in a lucid dream:

1. Our alertness. At our best, our mental skills are comparable to (or better than) those of wakefulness in such areas as concentration, reasoning, memory, and control of our actions.

2. Our senses. The senses are functioning during a lucid dream. While our physical body is asleep, we experience the dream in a dream-body which usually resembles our physical form (as in a non-lucid dream). This dream-body has senses which are similar to those of the physical body, so we can see, hear, taste, smell, and feel. In a lucid dream, these senses seem absolutely authentic; for example, if we touch someone, the person's skin feels warm and soft. Sometimes this "virtual reality" is more real than "real life" (and certainly more real than non-lucid dreams); the colors have a greater vividness and the sensations a deeper intensity -- from the sound of celestial music to the explosiveness of a lucid-dream orgasm.

3. Our emotions. A lucid dream brims with emotion and feeling. During the dream, we might feel any emotion, including ecstasy (perhaps during a visit to a heavenly dreamscape) -- or fear (although nightmare creatures can be confronted and even befriended, in contrast to our helplessness during non-lucidity). Lucid dreams give us a chance to know freedom; we can fly, walk through walls, live out any fantasy, and even change ourselves into another person. And when we awaken from a lucid dream, we are not tired from the adventures; our body feels as rested as it would feel from regular sleep, and our mind feels stimulated and refreshed (if we took the responsibility of creating a pleasant experience while lucid).

4. Our control. We can control a lucid dream. We can create any scenario, assume any identity, and invoke characters to play any role. The range of possibilities is almost incomprehensible. Among the limitless selections (which would be experienced with utter realism): We can visit a dreamscape which resembles the Mardi Gras, or the moon, or the Egyptian pyramids, or the crucifixion, or our childhood home. We can meet characters who speak and interact in a lifelike manner -- and we can create vivid images of specific people such as our first girlfriend or boyfriend, or a movie star, or Carl Jung, or Cleopatra. Our own identity can be that of our wakeful self, or a person of the opposite sex, or an animal, or a centaur. We can swim with dolphins (and "breathe" the dream-water), or jam with Jimi Hendrix, or star in a scene from our favorite movie, or fly to another planet, or enact any social or sexual fantasy with any partner. There are no restrictions on the time, place, or activities; anything which we can imagine can be accomplished with the same visual detail, emotions, and tactile sensations which we would expect from wakeful life.

I have been commented by a few people who read my dream journals that my dreams are too ‘real’ to be true. If you have read the above about lucid dreams, you should now know the answer - a lot of my dreams are lucid dreams. While in most people’s dreams their personality becomes that of a total stranger (weird, bizarre, mad, insane…); In most of my dreams, my personality in the dream is like my awake self. I have had ecstasy in my dream only to wake up to find that I have just orgasmed(http://thedreamweaver.blogspot.com/2005/08/climax-in-kiss.html); I have cried myself awake because I missed my mom so much (http://thedreamweaver.blogspot.com/2005/07/i-miss-you-mom.html); I have vividly seen the splendidness of a mirage and woke myself up laughing and felt blissful (http://passioncity.blogspot.com/2005/08/miracle-iii.html); I have had intellectual yet emotional and subtle conversations with my friend (http://thedreamweaver.blogspot.com/2005/08/my-friend-hou.html); I have received wisdom as to why adults are more defeatable than children (http://thedreamweaver.blogspot.com/2005/08/childrens-play-fight.html) etc.

There should be no more mystery. I am a lucid dreamer! The dream quoted at the beginning may not strictly fit into the definition of a lucid dream, but it’s close enough.

The source further listed the benefits from our lucid dreams:

Dreams provide us with a vast arena for self-improvement, adventure, creativity, problem-solving, pleasure, psychological growth -- and increased understanding of the unconscious mind and our underlying spiritual realities. The delight which is experienced during lucidity often carries over into wakefulness; the elation lingers, and we feel better also because lucidity allowed us to resolve emotional conflicts (by directly communicating with the unconscious mind).

In other words, my dreams are helping me to grow and improve!

School Reunion

2005-09-04T10:32:00.000+12:00

A school reunion has been organised, for my primary school classmates.

Approximately twenty people turn up. To my surprise, after twenty years I can still remember everyone’s name! Not a single person has changed so much that I cannot recognise. Chou is the first one who comes to me, and tells me that she owed me some thirty odd dollars when we were at the school and wants to return the money to me now. At first I don’t believe she said is true. I tell her that even it’s true, I have completely forgotten about it so I don’t expect her to return me the money. Chou then reminds me of the details on how she borrowed money from me which helps to recollect my memory. I am most grateful that she hasn’t forgotten about the debt after twenty years and appreciate her integrity.

I greet a few other old school mates, including Guo. Guo used to be one of the top students in the class. Guo tells me that she owns a small shop which sells computer gadgets. In order to show me her business, she takes me to the shop which is located on the left side of a busy street which is full of shops. I notice that her shop is full of joysticks apart from other gadgets. Guo explains to me that running a small business is very hard and that her sales is going downhill.

Although I have managed to talk to a few of my old school mate, time soon runs out before I can talk to everyone. At this moment someone realises that this school reunion is not well planned. Firstly, a contact book hasn’t been compiled to be dispatched to everyone; secondly, our school teacher hasn’t been invited to this reunion. A decision has been made to have another reunion the very next day. Of course, a contact book will have been available by then, and our school teacher would be invited.

Forty-one people turn up on the next day, compared to about half the numbers on the previous day. This is just about the whole class. Li is our old monitress in the class and she is responsible for the organising of the second reunion. Shu used to be a naughty student in the class. I hear him saying to Li that she has the most beautiful hair in the world. I am actually not too far from them.

I also see Dai. Dai used to be the most hopeless student in class. In one exam he only got 3% which made him famous in the school. However, I notice that he is wearing a very high quality business suit and looks very smart and professional. I ask him: ‘Dai, tell me, what do you do?’

He tells me that he is a lawyer. Upon hearing this, I burst into laughter. Not just me, several other people around us laugh too. I laugh and laugh and can‘t say a word. Dai laughs too. We know what’s in each other’s mind: even the worst student can be a high achiever yet a top student can be very mediocre. That’s why we all laughed.

To Go To Melbourne, Or Not To Go?

2005-09-03T08:46:00.000+12:00

My sister and her son are going to Melbourne for a short holiday. Naturally I am happy for them. It’s summer. I imagine that the weather in Melbourne must be really hot, which is the way I like.

My sister asks me to come along. So far I've never given it a thought to join them. I am busy with my work at the moment and don’t think the timing is right for a holiday.

‘Come on! You only need four days. It’s not that much.’ she says.

She’s actually worked out how to save time for me. She has booked her holiday deliberately so that she can utilise a weekend, which include Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday. She convinces me that I only need to take two days off which by all means is not too much to ask from an employer. It seems my nephew is very keen for me to join them also. I guess that he’ll no doubt write some interesting travel journals like he always does.

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't think that’s a bad idea. However, I am really reluctant to tell my boss that I want to take two days off, because at the moment, another colleague of mine has already applied for some leave, and her leave happens to be the same days I want. Not only has she applied for leave prior to me and has been approved, as a team we have worked out an arrangement already which is for me to cover for her on her absence. What happens if we are both absent? It doesn’t look like it’s going to work. I have always been very aware of my responsibility to my clients.

City In War

2005-09-02T14:00:00.000+12:00

(My dream journal dated 26 September 2004)

The city we live in is no longer a peaceful seaside city any more.

Invaders have launched attacks to destroy us. Hordes of plane fighters were hovering in the sky dropping bombs. Citizens were panicking. Old and young, men and women, adults and children were all running on the street like mad without knowing where they were going. Screams, cries, yelling which were mixed in the background bombing noises filled in the air.

I had a look in the sky. The bombs were dropped here and there from the plane fighters but somehow from a distance. I was amongst the running crowds, who eventually found a cave to hide.

The cave made me feel a little safer, but just a little. I was scared. I did not understand why this happened, and what I was supposed to do. The attack happened so abruptly that it was impossible for us to absorb it let alone assemble a strategy to protect our lives.

Something strange happened. We heard some noises outside the cave. It sounded like a choir singing. Out of curiosity, we all slowly but suspiciously walked out to see what was happening.

Hundreds of people were forming a circle on the street, hand in hand, chanting. They all wore robes (like those ancient Greeks). They did not look worried, or scared. They acted as if there was no attack at all and their lives were not in danger. They were totally oblivious that a war was happening.

More and more people (including myself) joined the circle and the chanting naturally, a little puzzled and confused first. As I was chanting, suddenly a surreal sense of peace came all over me and all I felt was me, peace and power. I was hardly aware of what was going on outside the chanting circle. Suddenly, I realised that this was a way of fighting. Instead of running around madly and clueless, this was the only way that could save my life – if I can remain calm, ignore the chaos in the outside world and have faith that this is all I need to do, nothing can destroy me.

In Tonga

2005-09-01T08:34:00.000+12:00

My husband and I are having a holiday in Tonga.

We walk into a local store. The layout is somewhat like those local dairies here. The owner is a dark-skinned, thin man in his forties. He greets us and asks us what he can do for us.

My husband asks him if we can buy a sewing machine. I notice that there is a sewing machining in the store, which looks like the owner’s personal belonging rather than merchandise for sale. My husband asks him in Tonga language, to my surprise.

The shop owner says that he does have sewing machines if we want to buy. Unfortunately none of them is packaged. He realises that we are tourists and feels sorry that he cannot satisfy us.

At the moment his wife comes out from a back room. The man has a quick discussion with his wife. They then tell us that they are willing to rent us their sewing machine for seven days after that we can return it to them. My husband is happy with this deal and we are grateful for these people.

I don’t understand though, as to why my husband wants to buy or rent a sewing machine in Tonga, and ask him. He says that it’s very cheap to have tailor made business suits in Tonga. I tell him that I know nothing about sewing (in case he thinks otherwise) and that if he wants tailor made business suits he can perhaps make the suits himself. I actually think he is quite funny to come up with such crazy ideas.

......

We are on a boat. There is a large aquarium on the boat which shows all the sea creatures. When we come out of the aquarium, I ask my husband if he has brought with us the suitcase, as I have just realised that I don’t have clothes to change or cosmetics in my backpack. He tells me that all we have got is the stuff in our backpacks (he’s got his and I’ve got mine).

There is a tiny shop on the boat, at the corner. The shop sells cosmetic products. I think that’s just fantastic. But when I have a close look at them, I am disappointed. Although they have some well-know brands such as ‘lo real’, they all look fake and locally produced. It is also interesting to notice a brand called ‘Westpac’. Westpac is a bank. I wonder if Westpac is a sponsor to this range of product. All the ‘Westpac’ products are packaged in red boxes and have the Westpac usual logos on them.

.......

We are visiting a cave in a group. The cave is up high, in a mountain. To get there, we have to climb a ladder. The bamboo ladder is very long, narrow and steep. I look up and see four or five people already on the ladder, making their way up. I am a little worried because the ladder to me doesn’t look straight and wonder if the other end of the ladder is fixed. While I am hesitating, someone in the group seems to have read my thoughts and convinces me that the ladder is very safe. So I got on the ladder. I soon become very scared as the ladder feels very fragile and makes squeaking noise.

I have reached the top. After a tour in the cave we are heading down. This time I take a close examination of the ladder. I was right! The ladder is not attached to anything! But both ends of the top of the ladder are covered with some cotton material (I presume this is to prevent the bamboo from slipping away from the rocks). I am not impressed with this design of safety and ask a girl in the group to help grab hold of the top ends while I make my way down the ladder. (She is He Xinyin, a classmate of mine in high school).

Dancing With Hugh Grant

2005-08-30T13:00:00.000+12:00

(My dream journal dated 20 December 2004)

There is a dancing party. However, the venue looks like a race course. People are standing behind the bars, which are used to divide the race course and the spectators.

I also stand behind the bars. Beside me are a childhood mate and her sister. We wait for guys to come over and invite us.

There is a guy coming to us. My childhood friend thinks he is going to invite her. She looks at him in anticipation. However, he comes to me instead, smiling at me with his right arm wide open with a tiny bow - a gesture to invite me for a dance. I take a glance at him. Somehow from that glance I find that I do not like him very much. He looks okay and has a slightly tall and thin figure. The smile in his face has a hint of slyness and lacking of genuineness. I make up my mind that he is not the kind of person I would trust easily, a person with honesty and solid substance. Well, at least that's my first impression.

I step across the bar to get to the dancing floor. We start to dance together. Not surprisingly, I cannot find any tune with him. He does not follow the rhythm of the music and his steps are faster than should be. There is no communication between him and me. Those of you who have dancing experiences would know that, dancing is a silent communication. You can feel the connection between the two of you if you are both in tune. You can tap into something deeper. Apparently he is not that type of dancing partner. He is a lousy dancer. I can’t wait for the music to stop.

Thank goodness the dance is over with him. I return to my spot. “Never mind!” I say to myself. You just have to try to know.

Waltz is on now. My mind and imagination start to race with the music. Waltz is my favourite dance and music. In my opinion it is the most beautiful and elegant dance of all ball room dances. Even just listening to the music alone is so satisfying. My eyes are closed, absorbed in the music and mind dancing.

“Shall we dance?”

I open my eyes. Oh my God, it is Hugh Grant! He wears a very fine dancing suit. He looks so damn good! Although I don’t normally like him (perhaps because of the characters he plays in the movies), at this moment, I am instantly attracted to him.

There is only one problem - I am not wearing skirt. What a bugger! I am wearing a business suit - a business jacket on top of a shirt, and matching pants - the kind I wear at work. How am I going to dance Waltz with him without wearing skirt? I feel a little awkward. I frantically take my jacket off and throw it away. At least shirt plus pants is better than a business suit on the dance floor!

He takes me with him. Not to the dance floor,though. I am puzzled as where we are going. We are now out of the race course, and seem to follow a group of people who are going on their skiing holiday and they all have their skiing equipments with them, about twenty of them.

I am thinking: I hope he is not taking me to ski! All I want is a dance! When the skiing group take a left turn, we carry on. I am relieved: we are not going to ski! Yay!

We are in an empty place. And the dance starts, naturally. I am amazed that he is such a good dancer. I follow him effortless, feeling like I am flying, or ice skating, despite there is no music. The tune is easily found in one’s mind when the partner is right.

Grandparents' old house, Jennifer & Unicorn

2005-08-29T17:07:00.000+12:00

(This is my dream journal dated 7 November 2004)

Grandparents (My father’s side) have died for years. However, their house is still there, vacant. No one has come up with a good idea as to what to do with this house. It is very old and the current condition is not good enough for anyone to live in.

One morning, a group of people turn up at Grandparents’ old house. Who are they?

They are from the United States. They are Jennifer and her parents. Jennifer is my husband’s deceased brother’s American fiancée. He died seven years ago in the United States one year after they got engaged.

Jennifer’s parents have brought with them a group of about thirty people, most of whom are architects and builders. They have great plans on what to do with grandparents’ house. After careful examination, they have come up with a solution as to what to do with this site.

The land is in a good location but the house is hardly worth anything. They’ve decided to put the house down and build a Karaoke bar and movie theatre. They waste no time at all. By the end of the day, all work has been completed! I come in to have a look: Wow, amazing! It looks really nice inside and it is very spacious. While they are celebrating and having dinner (dinner is split up into three round tables), I ask Jennifer who is going to manage this business.

She says she is going to move here (at this point the site seems to be a site in New Zealand although it’s supposed to be in China). She has been thinking for a while of moving to New Zealand so she can be with Scott all the time (Scott was buried in New Zealand).

I walk out of the building, and realise that it is sort of isolated in the middle of a pasture. Suddenly I see a strange moving object from a distance heading towards this way. A few seconds later as it moves closer, I realise it is a Qi Ling (Chinese unicorn). It is a very colourful creature with four legs. However, its face has some certain human feature and I am not sure why.

I am scared of it at first. I see not just one, but two, three, and hordes of them emerging from both sides of the far distance, and rapidly approaching us. What are they going to do? Are they going to attack us?

I quickly run in and tell everyone to come out and have a look. People generally seem to be scared like me at first. However there is no sign of panic as parts of us seem to know that these creatures could be our guardian angel. There is a belief that they may come to protect us.

The Qi Lings have run past us, disappearing into the far distance. Then they come back. They have done this several rounds. Ah, we realise that they are checking if there is any danger that could come to us. We are relieved and feel blessed. In a few minutes the Qi Lings have all disappeared.

The party and celebration goes on.

Climax, in a kiss

2005-08-28T16:19:00.000+12:00

I am in a group of six people: three male and three female. We are actors for blue movies. The costumes and stage settings are old fashioned style - similar to those in the movie ‘Moulin Rouge’.

Two of my male colleagues are from Bei Jing. They are both very tall (about 178 - 182cm), and very handsome. They are both very young (no more than 25-year old by the looks of it). ‘What’s in for them to be a gigolo? They are wasting their youth in this business!’ I think to my self.

As to my two female colleagues, one has short black hair with fringes and big eyes. She is not the best looking girl in our group. But her acting is very daring and engaging. In other words, she is full on. The other girl is thin, and has long hair. She is a beauty in the traditional sense. However, she is like the ‘Lin Dai Yu’ type - shy, fragile and sad looking.

The girl with short black hair is whinging about something. She says that her acting is the best in the group and we all know that. Yet she doesn’t get treated like a best actress deserves. Everyone hears her, and know that what she said is true. But no one makes any comment to show sympathy and support. Maybe it has something to do with her attitude.

I’ve had enough of this and decide to go home. It’s midnight. I have to walk home. I am a bit scared about walking in the darkness but I know that there is no point to hang around in this environment.

When I get home - a studio apartment, I realise that the 3rd male colleague has followed me. He is my boyfriend. I am not interested or in the mood to see him. I expect him to do some explanation as to why he follows me.

Without saying a word, he wrapped me up with his arms, and lie me down in bed. I let him. He starts licking my eye lid, very gently. All my resentment and bad mood disappears magically in that kiss. His tongue is like the most teasing and arousing massage in the world, I feel a sense of intimacy, security and his dedicatedness. His tongue says it all. His kiss is deep like an ocean. I feel wonderful and blissful. In that kiss I am his captive. In that moment I know he belongs to me, and I belong to him. Tears start to well up. He licks my tears dry. My soul is shaking. Oh, what a heavenly experience...

--------------------------

The radio suddenly went off, and I woke up. Damn!!!!! I realised that last night before going to bed, I habitually set the timer for the radio. Today is Sunday. I was supposed to sleep in!

‘You were funny!’ seeing me awake, hubby commented. I noticed that we were all wrapped together. My arm is around him and his leg is between mine.

‘Why?’ I asked, reluctant to leave my wonderful dream.

‘You held me so tight. Your fingers tapped my back. Your legs squeezed mine. And I could feel the pulsing of your pussy! ’

I laughed out loud.

‘Can you lick my eye lid?’ I requested.

Making A TV Commercial

2005-08-27T10:45:00.000+12:00

(My dream journal dated 2 July 2005)

Nicholas Tse is a pop singer in Hong Kong. He's got a contract worth $1.8 million to make a TV commercial for a famous brand of business suits.

He is told that the shooting should take no more than two hours. I think that’s easy money for such contracts. I am curious as to how this soon to be TV commercial is made.

I arrive at the studio. There are about ten to twenty crew. A small number of his fans (about fifty) are also present. Among the crew, I only remember the camera man. His gear lies on the ground - a small-sized camera and a couple of tripods.

I look at Nicholas. He is wearing a business jacket with a shirt underneath. He is not wearing a matching pair of pants and shoes. Hence a very casual and smart looking. I can hear him mumble, something like he is used to being surrounded with his fans at his work scene. He doesn’t seem to mind at all and appears very relaxed.

As the shooting goes, he walks along the CBD in Tokyo, as if he is window shopping. At one point, he sees a business suit on display through one of the shop windows and his eyes begin to shine. He says to himself something like “wow, that looks very smart!” and appears that he wants it very much.

He searches his pockets to see if he has enough money to buy this business suit. To his disappointment he can only find some loose changes and a few coins.

At this point, I begin to think what a boring and slow-paced TV commercial this is going to be. However, the next scene changes dramatically:

It is all action now! I see skyscrapers everywhere. A few huge nets have been set up underneath some of the skyscrapers for the ‘chase and escape’ movie shots. At some point Nicholas will have to jump from one of the skyscrapers.

...

Nicholas has now earned some decent money from being a stun man. He is happy now as he can finally go back to the shop where he can buy that favourite business suit of his. His punch line is:

“It’s worth it!”

Commuting Between Japan and China

2005-08-21T07:58:00.000+12:00

Ingrid is my girlfriend. Somehow through her I get to know a Japanese friend of hers who works in Zhen Zhou, China. (Zhen Zhou is the main city of He Nan Province. It’s in central China). He is a small, middle aged man.

I am not sure if the company he works for is a Chinese or a Japanese company. It is an Export Company and has a few Japanese management staff. There is something strange about this Japanese man. He commutes from Japan to China to work everyday.

I run a calculation in my mind as to how he can manage to do it: Even if he lives near the airport in Japan say Tokyo, it would take him at least an hour to fly to Shang Hai. From Shang Hai to Zhen Zhou, it would take another hour and a half. From the Zhen Zhou airport to his work, it must take at least half an hour. Plus all the time spent in checking in, waiting, going through customs etc he probably needs at least six hours. To arrive at work at say 9 AM in Zhen Zhou, he needs to get up at 3 AM. Of course, the same happens after work and by the time he gets home it would be somewhat midnight.

That’s why I don’t understand why he commutes everyday. I wonder what kind of family circumstances makes him take such trouble every day. He could live in China during the week and go back to Japan during the weekend if he needs to.

The company has a vacancy for an Export Documentation Officer. I am quite keen in this position because I believe if I work amongst Japanese staff, I will learn some Japanese quickly. I decide to talk to this Japanese man. He seems to be a senior management person in the firm.

I find him and introduce my self as a friend of Ingrid. I tell him that I am interested in this position. He then tells me that he has to advertise this position and invite applicants. I am more than welcome to apply for this position of course, but he can’t guarantee me that the position is mine.

I am a little disappointed, but I understand.

A Conversation About School

2005-08-20T09:42:00.000+12:00

(This is my dream journal dated 11 February 2004)

My cousin Hugo, grandpa and I are having dinner together at Grandpa’s old tiny flat. Over dinner Hugo and I have some discussions about the schools and colleges in the United States. I am flicking through a thick catalogue of the Colleges and Universities in the United States (I must be looking for a school to go to and wishing Hugo could help me on this).

'How come I can’t find a single school that would suit me to go to, amongst hundreds of schools, Hugo?' I ask.

Hugo looks at me with a modest and a student-like smile in his face (that typical smile of his) and replies after giving a thought to my question:

'Why are you still worried about academic achievements, Xiaobo (my Chinese name)? Didn’t you graduate from one of the most privileged Universities in China?'

I am quite confused and puzzled. But I guess he is right.

'To be frank, Xiaobo, I don’t think you will find any school in this book that offers what you want to learn.' He goes on saying.

My Friend Hou

2005-08-18T07:17:00.000+12:00

Hou and I are sitting in a 3-seater couch. The couch is just by the door. The room looks very low which suggests it is a flat. We’ve been chatting, catching up with things over the years. We haven’t seen each other for years.

Hou selects a book of mine. To my surprise, he starts to write things on the side of the book - the loose pages, without asking me. He has to bend/fold the book a little to make the side wider to give him more writing space. When he finishes I have a look at what he’s written. It says: From a lifelong friend Ella. I notice the book is one of my favourite self-help books. When you write things on the right side of the book, of course, each page is marked.

He has gifted himself a book of mine! Although a little surprised, I feel honoured. Not only it’s a privilege to be regarded as his lifelong friend, I am more than happy for him to keep that book as a gesture of our friendship.

I leave the couch to do something else. When I return, I notice that he has selected another book of mine and has done the same thing! The book is my English textbook and I need it for my final exam. Although I could do without this book, I feel safer to keep it in the mean time.

Strangely, I don’t mind at all with what he did to my books. I ask him why he chose my English book as his English is good enough while the book is very simple. He tells me that now he no longer lives in the United States his English has slumped. This book actually suits him very well.

I tell him that I am quite happy to give him the English book next time when I meet him, or mail him after I have finished my exam.

We also chat about his personal life. I find out that his wife still lives in the United States. I ask him when they see each other next time. He tells me that he plans to go to the States to see her next year.

‘That’s too long! How can you guys live a life like this?’ I ask.

He remains silent.

Somehow I feel I have tapped into a sensitive subject which triggered deep emotions. How is he supposed to answer me? Easy? Not a problem?

Of course not!

I feel I want to give him something, to fill a void in his life. I love him so much. I care about him so much. We’ve been rock-solid friends for many years, it hurts to know that he is on his own most of the time.

I lean towards him and kiss him in his lips. I am totally surprised by what I did!

He does not respond passionately. I guess he is surprised too and doesn’t know what to do. I feel a little awkward. We both do.

I begin to analysis why I did it. What drove me to kiss him was definitely not lust. It was love, only love. However, this love is not in its purest form as I did think about the possibility of becoming his lover if he needs me. I think the motivation to that kiss is my desire to want him to be happy. I feel ashamed of my thoughts on the prospect of being his lover.

Post-exam & school holiday in Shanghai

2005-08-17T15:25:00.000+12:00

The school semester has just finished. We are on holiday.

Fuxiao, my sister’s girlfriend, comes to visit her at our home. I am in another room. However, I can hear their conversations in my room. Fuxiao says to my sister: ‘Do you know that your sister is the top student in her grade?’ (In China, a grade has several classes. There were 13 classes in my grade in high school, for example.)

Upon hearing this, I get curious. The final exam consists of two subjects: maths and English. I got 87.9% in my maths. I can hardly believe this kind of score is what the top students gets.

Suddenly I have an urge to find out if I am really the top student in my grade. I would feel better if I get the confirmation. However, it seems the school has a policy of not disclosing each student’s place in the grade so that they would not feel too proud for being on top or too ashamed for being at the bottom.

After learning this, I feel better and my urge for confirmation has gone.

...

Still as part of school holiday. We are all going to Shanghai. I get to pick if I want go there by train or by plane. After consideration I decide to go by train as not only it’s cheaper, it would offer me more experience. Besides, it’s not like I am in a hurry to get there.

I am staying at Zhangwenjun’s parents in Shanghai. (Zhang is my colleague in Shenzhen and she is from Shanghai.) Her parents live in a two bed-room apartment. I am in their living room. It feels a bit strange as their place is not as luxurious and comfortable as I have imagined. There is only one set of furniture in the living room – a wooden dining table with four chairs, nothing else. I’ve never been to anyone’s home that is so simple.

My cousin

2005-08-17T13:07:00.000+12:00

We are having a family dinner in my childhood home. My uncle is there also together with some other relations. There are about seven or eight people all together. We are about to finish dinner.

My cousin turns up outside the door. He is the son from my uncle. He looks about twelve or thirteen but somehow I think that’s a mismatch as he should be an adult.

He looks untidy…. actually…very dirty. He carries with him a blue ball. The ball is slightly bigger than a basket ball. He says he is very hungry and wants to come in to have dinner with us.

My uncle is the first one to refuse his request. He then tells everyone not to give his son any food. I have a look on what’s left on the dinner table and can’t see anything decent. I feel a little uneasy because no food is left.

My cousin is begging now. He says he is really really hungry. Rice would just do. Eventually he is allowed to come in and given rice. He must be really hungry as he is really enjoying that rice I can tell.

After dinner everyone is relaxing in the back yard. My cousin starts to dance. He dances with his blue ball. No one seems interested in what he is doing. But I am amazed to see that he is a very good dancer. He throws the ball in the air, catches it, and do all sorts of the things with the ball while dancing. The ball leave his hand from time to time but never drops to the ground. I begin to wonder how he becomes such a natural dancer. In the meanwhile I feel pitiful that nobody seems to care about his talent, including my uncle. How sad! However, he seems to be enjoying himself in his dancing.

Dictionary

2005-08-17T09:47:00.000+12:00

In the office.

Phil (my colleague) and my sister come to my desk. Phil asks if I have a dictionary.

‘Sure. I have two dictionaries actually. One is English – Chinese, the other is English - English.’ I reply, glad to be of help.

He flicks through the English-English dictionary, and says to me:

“You know, you need to have 1st Dictionary Ella! The dictionaries you have are no good. Do you know that your cousin, Hugo, also uses 1st Dictionary as it is more advanced than the ordinary dictionary?”

I actually don’t have a clue what dictionary Hugo uses. Phil and my sister decide to go to the local library. When they return from the library, they have 1st Dictionary with them.

Demonstration

2005-08-14T09:19:00.000+12:00

A group of Samoan women approach me. They ask me if I want to participate their demonstration.

I ask them why they go on demonstration. They tell me that amongst all the ethnic groups in New Zealand, they are singled out by the government. They don’t receive equal benefits and treatments from the government as other ethnic groups do. They want equal treatments.

‘That’s fair enough!’ I think. I join them on the demonstration. Being a minority ethnic group myself, I have sympathy towards them.

I soon regret having participated the demonstration afterwards. I have had the chance to discover the reason as to why the government treat them differently: they contribute nothing to the society. In other words, they give nothing. As a result, the government believes that they’ve worked their own way towards expecting nothing in return.

Column Camps

2005-08-14T08:27:00.000+12:00

I am at the beach, with hubby and his family. I am not sure if it’s Blackhead Beach where we used to holiday because it looks very different. The sea is flat and the beach is broad. People come here camping, like us.

There are not many campers on the camping ground. I am most amused to notice that apart from the ordinary camps and caravans, there are some round, column shaped camps. They look like fortress. I wonder what the inside looks like and how people sleep inside as they don’t seem to have a big ground space.

What’s even more amusing is, some of these column camps are floating in the air. Some have just taken off the ground and some are higher above the ground. Apparently they are still climbing, very slowly.

I know Kiwis have always been creative and adventurous. But I am still to figure out how these column camps work.

Women's Gathering

2005-08-13T17:23:00.000+12:00

I can not tell if it’s a rest home, or someone’s residence.

I see a lot of women here. They are all above sixty years old and look perky. None of them looks frail. I notice that they are all very well dressed. It might not look like a party as such, but it certainly has a party atmosphere. It’s an open area with lots of gardens.

One of them is hubby's grandma. She is about eighty or at least in her late seventies. She looks extremely good in her age. Somehow the word ‘royal’ came to my mind as an appropriate word to describe how she looks. She is wearing a beautiful knee-length gown with a pair of high heel red sandals. I am very impressed that she looks so elegant and gorgeous. Somehow I get the feeling that this is how she looks every day. However, I can’t help but think: if she suffers from chronic back problem, then she shouldn’t wear those high heels. Does she know that?

Hubby’s mother turns up. She is also dressed up. But she doesn’t look as elegant as hubby’s grandma. Not only is she overweight (compared to grandma), her shoes look terrible which kind of ruin everything else. She must have realised that and felt a little embarrassed about her blue cotton shoes, as she took them off and threw them away, and says: ‘that feels better!’

Staffing shortage

2005-08-12T08:55:00.000+12:00

I am at work.

Adrain is away sick today. He’s got the flu. John has been on and off in the last fee days. He’s had bad coughs lately but he thought it was just a cold.

I go to John’s desk in the morning to talk to him about a file and realise he is not in. There is a note on his desk saying ‘I won’t be in today…. I might not come back at all’.

Phil and I look at each day, stunned. Phil is the team leader. We both know from John’s note that he won’t come back. We realise that his bad coughs are not from cold. He’s got a terminal illness. He is dying.

We were short staffed but now the shortage of staff is even more severe.

When Kevin walks past me, he gives me a special look. Kevin is the Regional Sales Manager. I don’t understand what that look means. He senses that I am confused, and says to me: ‘have you not noticed that Phil has been checking your past employment history?’

I suddenly realise what’s happening: they are looking for a replacement for John! And the best candidate is me.

Children's Play Fight

2005-08-11T13:55:00.000+12:00

I am at a street corner in a residential area. It’s like the end of a crescent as there is a big open ground at the end. My friend, Vanessa, and I are standing there chatting. Her son, Piggy (nick name) is playing with his cousin. (FYI – Vanessa was my friend when I lived in Shenzhen)

Piggy is about eight years old by the looks of it. His cousin is about two years older than him, and is slightly bigger than him. They are practising martial art fight, in a very casual way.

Both Piggy and his cousin have shoulder-length hair. Piggy’s hair is straight and black while his cousin’s hair obviously has been treated as it’s very wavy and brownish.

Vanessa and I carry on with our conversation while watching the children having their play fights. Their fights soom come to an end and I am surprised to find that Piggy has actually won as he is a smaller than his cousin! I must have expressed my surprise to Vanessa.

Vanessa appears very casual about it, not surprised at all by the result. She explains to me that kids don’t know the fact that physical size and age can be an advantage or otherwise. They are just being themselves. Piggy won only because he was staunch, not because of his technique or anything. She further tells me that kids have not yet developed the concept of fear, therefore they are not threatened by the bluff of another kid even the other kid is bigger and older. She says that only adults use measures such as size, weight, or age in fights. That’s why we are often defeated before the fight even starts. We lose so many battles in our minds!

I am amazed that Vanessa has turned into such a philosophical woman. Must be motherhood that did it, I think.

Old Friends & River

2005-08-11T07:37:00.000+12:00

It’s summer. I have just graduated from university. All the students take this last summer holiday to go back to their respective hometown before embarking on their first jobs all over the country.

Ding is an old friend of mine in high school. She will be working in Beijing and I will be working in Zhongshan. We join together to visit one of our old girlfriend, Liu.

Liu lives in an apartment. Her place looks a little dark. I don’t see a man in the house which suggests she is on her own. She has a son who looks 7 or 8 years old. During the short stay while we are there, she has to constantly carry her son in her arms. I am surprised that a small and delicate woman like her can carry such a big boy in her arms as if she is carrying a baby. Apparently she must have been doing this for years. It appears that her son suffers from down syndrome because he looks far from an ordinary boy of that age.

There is no sparkle in Liu’s eyes. In fact, there is not a tinge of zest I can find in her. Yet she used to be the best-looking girl at high school and had a lot of boy admirers! I would have thought that she would be leading a better life than a rough deal like this. Perhaps it’s fate, I thought.

........

I am walking along a river in my hometown alone. In my childhood, I have walked along this river countless times.

I keep walking. I have never covered the full river length before. However after a certain point of the river, things start to look different, very different.

All the stones, boulders and rocks become animated. There seems to be a theme about these boulders and rocks, as they all become faces - faces from the ancient Chinese legendary tales ‘The Eight Fairies’. The heads are much larger than the real size. These animated heads all have friendly, funny and humorous looks.

I am amazed. I hadn’t known that if you walk the extra miles you will encounter nice surprises like this. I begin to wonder how come I have never walked this extra distance before to realise that there are amazing things like these.

There are quite a few food kiosks. In one food kiosk there is an old fairy-like man. He has long white hair and beard. He wears robes and he has a very gentle and affectionate face. When I walk past, he smiles at me and asks what food he can make for me.

‘Anything you like!’ I reply. He quickly does some stir fries in a big wok. After one lot he does another, and another…He must have done 5 or 6 lots of different stir-fries for me. I notice that all dishes have peanuts in them.

I am full of thanks for his kind offer. I look around, it’s dark. There are flickering lights from different houses in the far distance. It’s so peaceful. It’s the life of an ancient idyllic village.

I am now on my way back. Instead of taking the same path, I take a different one this time. I walk on the lotus leaves. The lotus leaves form a perfect labyrinth in the middle of the river. I see a few acquaintances on this beautiful labyrinth including my old professor in the University. He is doing some gentle stretches as a form of exercise.

Grandad II

2005-08-10T13:18:00.000+12:00

(This journal was made on 31 March 2005)

My Grandad (my mum's dad) came to my dream last night and the night before.

In my first dream, I was visiting my old school. There was a building on the campus which was my old classroom but apparently had been converted to dormitories now. I walked along the long corridor in the building where both sides are dormitories. Guess who did I see? My uncle in the corridor! I asked him: “What are you doing here for, uncle?” He pointed to the room behind him. I looked through the window and saw Grandad lying in a bed. My uncle said that he had taken Grandad out for shopping for the day and apparently it was too much of a day for Grandad that he was very tired and needed a rest. He found this place for Grandad to have rest before he could take him home.

I hadn’t seen Grandad for years. I was surprised to see him so fragile and old this time. I wanted to greet him in person. But I was afraid. I thought he was dying (I meant, he was in his final years of life). I didn’t want to leave an image of a fragile and sickly old Grandad like that. I wanted to keep my old images about him when he was healthy, strong and tall. Grandad was the kindest person in the world. I loved him very much. Yet I couldn’t face him now.

In my second dream, Grandad was sitting in an armchair on a deck in front of a huge swimming pool (it was so huge that it almost felt like a pond). It was not the home he used to live in. He was not fragile and sickly this time. He was his usual self like the Grandad I had always known.

He dragged me over to him, and stood me in between his laps. I had no idea what he was going to do. He put his hands on my waist, and started to twist my waist to the right. “Ouch!” I yelled. It hurt. I wanted him to stop as I didn’t think my waist could keeping twisting like that. But I bit my mouth to stay silent because I realised that he was doing some healing about my troublesome back. By twisting my back, he was re-aligning my spine which was apparently out of alignment. My waist was tilted like that for ages although it would be only about a couple of minutes.

(Notes: Grandad died about seven years ago. He was bed-ridden in his final months. I always wondered that if he had a peaceful death and it was a pity that the last time I saw him was about 10 years ago when he was a healthy man. I wished I could have done more for him.)

Grandad

2005-08-10T09:59:00.000+12:00

(This dream journal was recorded on 8 May 2005)

Grandad has just died.

He is lying in the bed. My uncle is standing at the far end of the room and mum is at the end of the bed near the door.

The door is open. I am standing outside. I have only allowed myself to have a very quick glance at Grandad from outside the door. I am a bit scared. I have never seen Grandad sick before, let alone death. I don’t want to leave a memory on whatever is there in that room. I treasure the memories of Grandad too much when he was alive and I don’t want to ruin it.

“Come on, Botzi!” Mum says to me.

“Your Grandad has been kind to you all his lifetime. I am sure he doesn’t want to frighten you even now he is dead.”

A fair comment indeed. I think I should face up this person who I loved so much. The fact that he is dead should not change anything.

Standing outside the door, I look inside. My heart is pumping fast and I feel a bit intense. Grandad lies there and looks as if he is just asleep. I allow myself to carefully examine his face. He looks gaunt and yellowish but other than that he looks quite calm and peaceful. Then something strange happens:

His face turns right (that is where the door is). As I walk in the room, his face follows my movement, as if he could sense my being there and wants a connection with me. Realising it’s definitely me (I presume), the muscle at the corner of his mouth pulls. Grandad is happy to see me and he gives me a smile! His eyes are still closed of course.

Mum was right! Grandad certainly is the kindest grandad in the world! I should’ve known this all along. I should’ve never doubted that a dead body there shouldn’t have made a difference to my feelings and memories to him.

In an European Office

2005-08-07T08:34:00.000+12:00

(My husband told me an interesting dream this morning. I persuaded him to write a dream journal. Here goes)

I am in an office. The office building has the architecture of an European style. Inside the floors are wooden, and the walls of the building are made of stones.

Looking out of the window, I see trees lining the street. Those trees are very green and have loose leafs. It must be summer. Neighbouring building have ornate pillars and carvings of griffins and lions at the front.

In the office, my colleagues all sit in front of old styled wooden desks, which look like bigger versions of the ones at school when I was a child. None of the desks has a computer but there is a small table top narrow wooden cabinet.

A client of my company walked in. It’s Edgar. He is from South America. Without paying much attention to other colleagues, he walks straight towards me. We exchange greetings. He starts asking Telecommunication related questions about a problem he is having. I stop him half way through. I hand him a book, he looks inside ‘Is there any radio equipment in this book?’ He asks.

‘No. It has no radios. But it has a list of all the companies and it shows you which companies are doing good and which are not doing good.’ I replied. The side of the cover of the book actually prints ‘stock market‘ or something like that. I think he’s seen that. I then explain to him that I am now doing derivatives trading and am no longer in the radio business.

He seems interested and curious. ‘Can you look up for me if the ABC company (it’s a fictitious name for privacy reasons) is doing good?’ He asks.

ABC company is a company he says was started by one of my former colleagues, Alan, who left my old company several years back to go and work for a competitor. So Alan must have left that company and formed his own outfit. I am slightly surprised as he appeared to be a very conservative person in nature and not a person of the risk taking type.

Edgar wishes to check the stock price of Alan’s company. I think gee he has listed his company must be on the OTC market, how could a business grow so fast as to list on the main stock exchange, regardless he has outside investment, quite impressive in such a short time. I open the desk top cupboard on the inside is a small screen. You can use a hand held terminal like an EFTPOS terminal to key in the company name. I press a button and three companies’ names pop up on the screen. The company name starts with 'M'. There are three companies with names that start with 'Mann' and one of them says 'Mann Kost'. They are all German names strange for a kiwi company.

The dream ends there because my wife woke me up and asked me 'what were you dreaming? You were breathing fast and heavily!'

City In War

2005-08-06T19:14:00.000+12:00

(This dream was recorded on 26 September 2004)

The city we live in is no longer a peaceful seaside city any more.

Invaders have launched attacks to destroy us. Hordes of plane fighters were hovering in the sky dropping bombs. Citizens were panicking. Old and young, men and women, adults and children were all running on the street like mad without knowing where they were going. Screams, cries, yelling which were mixed in the background bombing noises filled in the air.

I had a look in the sky. The bombs were dropped here and there from the plane fighters but somehow from a distance. I was amongst the running crowds, who eventually found a cave to hide.

The cave made me feel a little safer, but just a little. I was scared. I did not understand why this happened, and what I was supposed to do. The attack happened so abruptly that it was impossible for us to absorb it let alone assemble a strategy to protect our lives.

Something strange happened. We heard some noises outside the cave. It sounded like a choir singing. Out of curiosity, we all slowly but suspiciously walked out to see what was happening.

Hundreds of people were forming a circle on the street, hand in hand, chanting. They all wore robes (like those ancient Greeks). They did not look worried, or scared. They acted as if there was no attack at all and their lives were not in danger. They were totally oblivious that a war was happening.

More and more people (including myself) joined the circle and the chanting naturally, a little puzzled and confused first. As I was chanting, suddenly a surreal sense of peace came all over me and all I felt was me, peace and power. I was hardly aware of what was going on outside the chanting circle. Suddenly, I realised that this was a way of fighting. Instead of running around madly and clueless, this was the only way that could save my life – if I can remain calm, ignore the chaos in the outside world and have faith that this is all I need to do, nothing can destroy me.

Stock Market Frenzy

2005-08-03T07:14:00.000+12:00

(This dream was recorded on 4 October 2004)

My dream took me to Shenzhen, China.

I was in Sichuan Securities, a stock brokerage house. It was very crowded and you could tell that the stock market was very flamboyant simply by the number of heads there.

I saw a lot of my old friends, amongst them were my childhood friends, college mates and general friends. Everyone was submitting purchase or sale orders to the counter so they could cash out their profit or buy in potential profit as soon as possible. However, I was just watching, wondering what the hell was causing this frantic madness in the share market.

A man stood out from the crowds as he was not one of the ‘action’ people. He was on his own and not placing any orders in. I recognised that it was Lao Bie, my alumnus in GuangZhou. He was a very good friend of my friend, and so became my friend as well. After graduation, he became a lecturer on Principles of Economics and International Trade for two years in the University where he studied.

I asked Lao Bie: 'It seems you are not sucked into this stock market madness. Isn’t it good time to buy? How can you stay so aloof while everyone else was busy making money?'

He told me that he had spent all his money in the stock market and now he lost all his original capital, which meant that he could not do anything even this was an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Then I asked: 'But you are a lecturer on Economics. You are supposed to know everything about the market. You should know better than the rest of us.'

'You can learn a lot from books and grasp all the theories. But in reality, things rarely happen in the circumstances where you can apply the theories according to what you’ve learnt. No matter how much you’ve known, there is always more that you don’t know…'

An English Composition

2005-08-02T06:30:00.000+12:00

I am at high school. We have just finished final exams. We are going to have the end of term school meeting to wrap the term off.

It’s going to be a special occasion for me. I am told that I am going to read my English composition at the meeting to over 2,000 students. The composition was done during my just finished English exam. My English teacher is very impressed with it and very proud of me. He believes that I should share my composition with all students.

I am at home, preparing for my speech at the meeting. My sister Joan is helping me to make up my face. My grandparents keep asking me what I wrote in my composition. They are going to attend the meeting together with my parents and my neighbour Elaine (Elaine is my neighbour while I lived in Wellington in the last four years).

The meeting has started. Somehow I don’t feel ready as I haven’t found my script. I am in a frantic rush, desperately looking for it, bearing in mind the composition was done during an exam in a tight time frame which makes it hard to recite from my mind.

I find my English teacher in the crowds. He tells me that he is gping to read my composition in Chinese before I start, so that those audiences who don’t know English can understand the excellence of my composition.

It is a good arrangement, I must admit. However, I still haven’t found my English script. The meeting has already started. I can hear that the headmaster has kicked off the opening speech. I go upstairs where the school broadcast studio is and ask them when my turn is. They tells me that my turn is next.

I realise that I don’t have time to muck around looking for my English script. I decide to borrow the Chinese script from my English teacher after he finishes and translate into English instantaneously. The only problem is: my original English composition, after being translated into Chinese, then being translated back into English, even I myself am not sure it’s going to be as good as my original composition.

Anyhow I am now on the stage in front of the audiences. I feel slightly nervous but I soon tell myself to calm down and read my composition as if I am talking to just one person. I learnt this technique from Suzanne Jeffers in her ‘Fear the fear and do it anyway’.

My opening speech is: ‘The composition I am going to share with you is dedicated to all the people I love, especially to my English teacher, Mr Zuo…’ Then I start translating the Chinese script as if I am reading the original English version. It goes well on the first page. However when I come to the middle of second page, I note that two sentences are poorly scribbled and very hard to read. I am annoyed with whoever wrote this down as apparently he/she is not a very responsible person. Fortunately there are only two sentences which I can make it up in my own imagination and words using my quick wit.

Two Men

2005-07-29T08:37:00.000+12:00

I should have written my dream journal first thing in the morning, as now I only have the sketch of my dream with most details gone.

I had two men coming to my dream. The first was my current Sales Manager. We somewhat had a tacit attraction on the first sight. He seemed to be able to see through me. I don’t recall any conversations (like my other dreams do) between us. There was a scene we were both naked in bed. But there was no actual sex or much of a physical. I think our liking to each other had more elements of admiration, respect, fondness and inner connection rather than lust (although admittedly he is one of the two men in the whole office of forty people who I think has a personal charisma).

There was a certain eye contact between him and me which seemed to contain all the feelings we had towards each other. Then the next scene took me to a court proceeding where he was charged with bigamy as he was a married man prior to meeting me. It was a serious charge and there was no way he could defend himself. He was sentenced to several years of imprisonment. I couldn’t forget that innocent but despair look in his eye.

The other man was Xing, who I had a short term relationship with thirteen years ago. (FYI - he was a wealthy real estate tycoon with a closed heart). He came to my dormitory to look for me. Somehow he missed me. He managed to find himself another dormitory in the campus to stay for the night. When I found him next morning, I was not impressed that he came to look for me and managed to stay for the night. When he left, I followed him. I was not sure why I followed him perhaps I was curious to find out where he was going. I saw him disappeared in a bush near the river.

Giving Birth

2005-07-27T07:02:00.000+12:00

I am in labour.

There are two people in the deliver room helping me. One is a woman and one is a man. I hear them say: “Push! Push harder!”

It is a very slow process. Just before the baby comes out, they tell me that the baby has already died - died of lack of oxygen. I am a little suspicious as to what I am told. But when the baby comes out, he is alive!

It is a tiny baby boy.

…

I am proud and glad that I’ve now got a boy. It seems God knows my wishes. (In reality, however, I’ve always liked girls). One day when I pick the baby up from our bed, he slips out of my hand and falls to the bed. I have an instant fright and blame myself for using only one hand to pick him up. However he appears fine. My logic tells me that he is too light to suffer any internal injuries. On the other hand, I am not sure how fragile or strong a baby is to endure such an accident. Still learning as a new mother, aren’t I?

Some time has passed. I am more and more worried. I start to think if I should take the baby to the hospital to have a X-ray to check if he suffered any injuries from that fall. Having him checked would give me the peace of mind. On the other hand, I am a little worried that the doctor might suspect that I did it on purpose. They may lay a charge against me for trying to kill my baby and I’ll be dragged into a long proceeding to defend that I am just a new mother who accidentally makes mistakes.

Mood

2005-07-25T19:53:00.000+12:00

(This dream was recorded on 21 November 2004)

(Background: Hubby learned that his company laid off forty-eight staff while he was on a work trip in Thailand. At the moment he hasn‘t been back to work yet. So he knows nothing more than that. I had the following dream in my afternoon nap.)

Hubby returns to work after three weeks away.

He goes to the Human Resource Department where he sees Antonia, the Human Resource Manager, and another new face, male.

He has been given a booklet about the company’s recent restructuring. But he wants to find out a bit more about it and has some questions on employment relationship.

Apparently part of the new structuring rules include that, if an employee has an employment relationship enquiry, he/she must first go to see the company’s new Senior Legal Executive (whose salary is $57,000), the new face in Antonia’s office. In the past, the company had a Junior Legal Executive to handle these enquiries, who has now been replaced by this Senior Legal Executive.

Hubby asks a few questions. Antonia says that she has already explained things at the company meeting in detail and that if he reads the booklet he was given, the answers are pretty much there. There is a piece of transparency (one of the transparencies she used for the presentation at the company meeting) on top of everything on her desk, on which a few key words are written. One word which is circled and emphasised is the word mood. She explains to hubby that, sometimes a seemingly serious or big matter is actually a small matter, and needs not be attended to immediately because it occurs when people are in a bad mood. When people sort out their mood, so is the matter concerned.

The whole time the Senior Legal Executive didn't say a word.

David & Victoria Beckham

2005-07-23T20:23:00.000+12:00

(This dream was recorded on 23 June 2005)

I have finished work at mid-day. While walking home. I wonder how I’ll kill the rest of my day. Maybe I can stop by at my friend’s bakery (my childhood girlfriend) to catch up with her. It’s only a thought though. We’ve been friends ever since we were kids, but my life has changed so much yet hers hasn’t. Although I am always happy to see her, I don’t find that many topics we can actually talk about.

As I walk, I hear a voice from behind saying “there is a hole in your stockings!” and some laughs. I instantly go pale and my breathe stops as I think it’s me. I am wearing a dark grey business suit with a short skirt above my knee and of course long stockings. I turn around and try to check where the hole is. “It’s not you. It’s her!” The guys behind me is laughing.

Now I realise that it’s the girl in front of me he is laughing at. There is a huge hole from top to bottom in her stockings. However, she acts as if she doesn’t hear anything and keeps walking with her head high.

I walk past a dancing ball. I stop for a second and think if I should go in as I have plenty of time. However, being alone and wearing a business suit doesn’t make me feel too good as everyone else is wearing appropriate dancing dress and with people they know. I stay in the dancing ball for a few minutes just to see what’s happening. As nobody talks to me, I don’t feel in a party mood and leave.

I am on a busy street now and hear all the bustling and hustling. As I turn into a corner, I see Victoria Beckham and one of her young boys riding a toy horse. There are two of those toy horses at the corner. They seem very happy and I hear her talking to her son in a high pitch voice.

I somehow learn that she lives in the house at the corner. And the reason they bought this house in the city centre is because they love these two toy horses on the street as her boys love them.

I am invited to visit her house. Apparently they bought two houses and converted them into one. There are two middle aged women who are obviously their housekeepers. They look very reliable and trustworthy people who would not sell the Beckham’s stories to magazines for money. I see David Beckham in the garden playing with a water hose.

I notice they have a few pets - a dog, a cat, a black warthog and a gigantic black star fish. The star fish would be about 80 square meters and takes most of the ground area. I am thinking: “Hmm, rich people do have some eccentric tastes!”

I note that hubby is there too. Apparently he has already been there by the time I arrive. It’s kind of funny hubby and I meet at Beckham’s without proper arrangement. He is more at home than me at the Beckhams as if he’s been there for a while or been there before.

I am a little curious as to how hubby end up being at the Beckham’s. Somehow I am told that the Beckhams hired a secret agent to look for a sperm donor who must be good-looking, smart and intelligent. In the end, hubby was the only one that could meet their criterion. I am thinking: haven’t they got enough children of their own? Perhaps Victoria doesn’t think her husband is smart enough? or, does she want to use a sperm donor to attempt a baby girl?

Next we are in the woods behind their house. Two body guards are playing with a volleyball. Victoria tell them that she wants to join them and play. I gather she’s never played volleyball before and just wants to have some fun. The two body guards throw the ball to her very hard and she catches the ball accurately with both of her wrists and the ball bounces into the air. She manages to do that so well while she is wearing high-heel sandals. As she is on short pants, I notice she has beautiful long legs. I think she is a very talented woman and definitely a fast learner. Another conclusion that comes into my mind is that: She is a very determined woman and she can almost learn anything instantly.

In London

2005-07-22T07:21:00.000+12:00

My husband and I are in London. We are to visit an old relative of his - one he hasn’t seen for years.

It’s early in the morning. We need to take a bus to get to his relative‘s place. As we are both new in London (well at least I am), we have to resort to a street map. My husband finds the bus station from the map - it is three intersections away. He grabs my hand firmly to walk on the busy streets as if he is afraid of losing me. After the second intersection, I see a bus station and ask him if he is sure that this is not the bus station we are looking for. He says of course not. Finally we come past the third intersection and find a bus station.

There are not many people waiting. I notice however there are two traffic police at the bus station. They both wear bulky, thick long coat. It must be winter.

While we are waiting, more and more people have turned up. In a few minutes time there are at least fifty to sixty people arrived at the bus station. I begin to understand why the two traffic police are there - to keep order.

The bus turns up. But no way all the people can get on the bus. With the help of the two traffic police, people are lined up in a queue. But what a long queue! As the bus is already almost full, someone comes up with a creative solution, which is, to add an extra carriage to the bus. It turns out that this added part is a container-like carriage. We have to climb a ladder to get onto the carriage.

I am the first one in the line. By the time I get to the top of the ladder the bus has started. I look underneath and see my husband is right below me and a few other people still hanging onto the ladder. I am most surprised that in London a bus should take off with people still on the ladder.

The carriage is enclosed at the top, front and both sides . As I am facing the front, I can’t see anything. Suddenly I realise that I should pay attention to the streets sceneries since it is the first time I am in London. I manage to climb over the ladder and get into the carriage, and turn myself around so I could see the streets.

The road has three parts and is divided by two rows of short trees. Basically it has a pedestrian lane on each side and a main part. I think the main part perhaps has four lanes altogether - two on both sides. Traffic is not bad at all. The road is very broad and open (as opposed to congested and narrow). The buildings on each side are mostly flats and low-level buildings.

I see two girls in their late teens or early twenties walking together merrily. They both wear a pink short sleeve shirt. The sleeves however are white. On their upper chest there is a ribbon - a very animated looking! They almost look like twins but after carefully observation I come to the conclusion that they are probably just friends having similar dressing tastes. They both wear short skirts - same style but different in colour.

When we get off the bus and are on our way to my husband’s old relative, we realise that we haven’t warned them that we are coming. We begin to worry a little bit as to if they will be at home at all.

The next thing… we turn up at my brother’s place. He and his wife are having breakfast. While my brother looks like his usual self at home, I notice that my sister-in-law looks a bit too ‘refined’ considering she is only having breakfast with her husband at home. Her face is very smooth and flawless - the effect from a perfect application of makeup. Somehow I feel a little odd with her looking like this at home.

I know my brother has to go to work in a hurry and feel somewhat guilty to just turn up like this

A Musical Show

2005-07-21T18:40:00.000+12:00

(This dream was recorded on 12 May 2005)

A friend of mine runs a musical show. She is forty something and is perhaps single.

The show is like the traditional style of circuit – it’s mobile but very organised and efficient. My friend owns the show and the players in the show are like a big gypsy family.

There have been over 40 shows locally. It’s been the same show but can be slightly different every time. I always hang around with them (not sure why). Occasionally there will be an audition to recruit an extra ‘staff’ as the story changes or to find a replacement if an existing cast leaves the show to pursue something else in life. In one of the auditions there is a teenage boy who instantly merges himself into the shown effortless. When the next show starts and the velvet is opened, the first scene is this boy singing with his guitar. I am amazed that the boy just fits in so naturally. He is an amateur in the show business but he is such a good performer.

While the show is still on, I walk into my friend’s studio (which is also her habitat). It is relatively a small room and things are all over the place and on the floor. At the corner of the room there is an open rack where all her clothes are hung. I notice that her clothes are all very colourful. One of the clothes jammed in the middle still has its price tag on it. Out of curiosity I pull the clothes apart to reach the price tag. It says $743. I am surprised because that article of clothes doesn’t look like an expensive one nor does it look like a designer piece.

When my friend is back from the stage, I ask her how long she is going to run this show for. I am a little concerned that the show has been running for some 40 times in the local area and she might eventually run out of audience. She says to me that frankly she doesn’t know how long she will be running this show for. At the moment she just knows that she can’t stop as the show is her life and soul. If one day it has run its course, she’ll know and something else will come up.

In the meanwhile, my husband and I come to watch this show every time. (Maybe it’s because we like the show very much? Or maybe it’s because the owner of the show is our friend? ) As usual, we are about to take the ferry to the other side of town to get to the place to see the show. The river is long and narrow and the other side of the bank is perhaps just less than half a mile’s distance. Before we embark on the ferry, my husband asks me the same question I asked my friend before. He says: “Honey, we’ve been to this show many times. How long do you think we want to watch this show for?”

Olympic Champion, Not Me!

2005-07-20T06:18:00.000+12:00

(This dream was recorded on 7 September 2004)

I was at home having a farewell party with my family and friends before I left for the Olympic Games. I was one of the athletes of the gymnastics team representing for the country (China).

The party seemed to last forever and I felt that there was plenty of time for me to get ready for my departure. There were many happy faces and everyone was in high spirit with the drinks and food. Suddenly someone said “Ella, there is only 10 minutes left for the coach bus to come around and pick you up!” Oh shit…

I had a look at my sister. She had been busy packing my bag for me. She had selected the clothes and items she believed that I would need for my trip. I didn’t expect her to do anything like that for me. But I guess she just enjoyed taking good care of me like she always did. When I took a look in the bag, there were far too many things in the bag and some of the items I did need were not in there. I had to quickly make a list in my mind of those items I need and throw out a lot of the clothes which I didn’t think I would need. In a few minutes I got my bag sorted and I was happy that I only had one carry bag with me for the trip. I liked to travel light.

When I rushed out of my house into the street, I saw the coach bus with a full load of Olympic delegates driving past me. I waved at the bus and yelled for it to stop. The people on the bus saw me. The bus took a U-turn in a couple of minutes and stopped to pick me up. I got up the bus. There was only one seat left. Phew! What a fright I had that I almost missed the bus and ruined my chance to go for the Game!

The Olympic city seemed to be one city in France (or one of the European countries). It was a nice, warm and sunny place and I saw people coming from all over the world. I was supposed to compete for the free style gymnastics. However, I couldn’t remember if I performed at all, or if my performance was poor. All I knew was that the girl who was an average athlete and was not expected to win surprised us all and the whole world. Nobody took any notice of her performance until in the very end she stood out to be the best and took the No. 1 world title.

I was the best in the team. Everyone had been speculating before I went to the Game that I was expected to win the championship. However, the Olympic champion was not me.

Being Comfortable With Yourself

2005-07-20T06:12:00.000+12:00

(This dream was recorded on 18 February 2005)

I am in a class.

We are to learn something very special in this class.

The tutor tells us to take our clothes off to the extent that we feel comfortable. Then we begin to comment on our own bodies on the parts we like or don’t like. We are encouraged to tell the reasons as to why we do or don’t like those parts. We are also encouraged to pick on any member in the class and comment on his/her body subject his/her prior approval. We are told to remember one important point which is, our comments must be non-judgemental either to ourselves or others. All we need to do is to observe and tell our feelings.

What an interesting experience it will be!

There are six students in the class. The first person is a tall, thin, short-haired young Western woman who is totally naked and her body looks perfect. It is obviously that she is very comfortable with her body and she has no problem to reveal it. The second is a short, dark-haired woman who is in her twenties. She is not as comfortable as the first lady and she has her top and nickers on. The third person is a middle-aged woman who I can’t remember particular features. The fourth and fifth are two Indians - a girl of about 16 and a boy of about 12, who appear to be brother and sister. They follow the tutor’s instructions and they are also naked. The last person is me. I am fairly comfortable with my body but for some reason I have a semi-transparent tape covering the part where my pubic hair is.

We then start telling our feelings about our bodies. I remember that the first good-shaped lady has no problem in talking about herself. It is obvious that she is not only confident about herself, she also has no hidden issues or social taboos as to our bodies. I wonder if she is a model or actress. The second lady says she doesn’t like her body as it is always fat and that she hates to see herself naked. The Indian boy and the India girl perhaps because of their age, they are a bit shy and have little to say. I think they may not enjoy this class.

When it is my turn, I point out that the part I like about myself is my breasts although I have almost never received compliments from guys. But I like them because they are the perfect size and shape for me. Also there is no part in my body that I hate.

No one makes any comment on others although we are given such an opportunity. Perhaps it is because it is our first class?

We have been made so comfortable with ourselves and with others that at the end of the class we are all naked and talking about anything!

When I leave the classroom, I see an Indian woman talking to my tutor. No doubt she is the mother of the Indian boy and girl. She tells the tutor that her children love the class so much that they can’t wait for the next class because they have learnt a lot from this exercise. Obviously my earlier thinking that they were not comfortable or embarrassed is not true.

An Angelic Kingdom

2005-07-19T20:12:00.000+12:00

(This dream was recorded on 13 August 2004)

My husband and I were on a holiday tour. It was in summer in New Zealand - somewhere we haven’t been before.

We were cruising along on bicycles on a narrow street, both sides were covered by dense bush-like trees. The smell in the air was fresh with some woody and flowery scent.

There I found this big round tree, about three meters tall. It had green shining leaves and large, ball shaped pink flowers. To my surprise, it was roses! We got off our bicycles and started to observe, touch and smell them. The texture of the flower was smooth, the smell was pleasantly scented, and the stems had no thorns.

…

We were on a coach bus with a group of tourists. We sat at the front row in the bus on the left. There was a pair of ‘love birds’ sitting on the right front row. They were in their late teens or early twenties and appeared very much in love. They both wore a white T-shirt and green middle length pants – a very relaxed, harmonised and synchronised scene. We started talking to them, and found they were Chinese. We felt very comfortable with them after chatting away and decided to team up for the rest of the holiday journey with them, together with their baby - a big black Labrador.

…

The bus stopped at a wharf in a small town. When we got off the bus, and assembled on the wharf, we noticed that there was a small crowd there, all looking up in the sky.

What was in the sky?

The sky was not a sky. It was like a big IMAX movie screen in a cinema. On the screen was layers after layers of changing pictures. One moment it was a farm yard stacked with corns and wheat, another moment it was a face of a content new born baby. One moment it was hordes of racing horses, another moment it was a group of women gathering around a well taking turns to fetch water from the well, giggling and gossiping in the meanwhile…

Everyone on the wharf was totally absorbed and fell into some sort of meditative state by these amazing, wondrous, and serene moments - moments with no sound, no sense of time and space, but pictures after pictures, forever changing.

I Miss you, Mom!

2005-07-19T19:41:00.000+12:00

(This dream was recorded on 19 September 2004)

There was a family memorial service held at home (our old home when we were kids). We were to pay tribute to the dead family members, including my grandparents and my aunty. The latest member was my mother. She lost her life during a trip to Nan Yue Mountain - one of the four most famous mountain resorts in China.

There were many envelops on a table, inside which were letters we had written to the dead ones. The envelopes would be burnt. It was said that when the letters were burnt, the dead ones could read or hear them. I had written one letter to my beloved mother. In my letter, I asked if she was happy there, and if she had settled for me and my husband’s life without children.

Mom had been worried about my life all her life. I did not want her to worry about my life any more. One of her main worries in recent years was that she was hoping to have a grandchild (or grandchildren) from me and my husband, a beautiful mixed-blood baby… She did not get her wish come true when she was alive. Would she ever be able to settle for the fact and be happy for us just the way it is?

"Are you missing mom?" My sister who was standing by me seemed to have read my thoughts.

I wanted to say yes and I also wanted to say to mom that I was not used to being without her. She had always been there for me all my life.

Something got stuck in my throat and words could not come out. Tears welled up in my eyes. There’s more and more of it until I could not hold any more. I started to weep, then sob. There was so much I wanted to say to mom that a letter was not enough. I was both angry and sad. I was angry that she went too early and too fast without giving me enough notice for me to say the things I could have wanted to say to her before she was gone. I was sad that I could have done more things to her when she was alive. But now I didn’t have a chance any more.

....

"Are you okay?" I was awakened by hubby. "Bad dreams?" He gave me a kiss. “Everything is fine. Coco (our cat) and I are here. It’s okay."