he was strumming my pain, singing my life

i am a living example of practice makes perfect
and since last nite
i bid au revoir to
hungovers
of highschool fantasies
puppy love infactuations
stupidity
in general

last nite i had a very weirdly happy dream plush nightmare
good news first or bad news
i'll decide for you


Part I: the dream
(regardless of the hurt he've put me thru)
last night we we descending this elevator
he was on his way to work
in the enclosed space
i was fixing his tie for him
and holding him very close
holding on very dearly
maybe because im just a little too certain
this might be the last time
of course (since this is a dream)
he embraced me
but we weren't looking at each other
instead, lookin into the reflection of us
for a moment the air stood still
then the elevator door opened
and
the very glimpse of us being together broke inevitably, along with the metal sliding doors

Part II
mum was holding on to this leash
and on the other end
i found a honey-coloured retriever
(but mind you. i am NOT GETTING ANY HONEY COLOURED RETRIEVER. I AM GETTING MYSELF A BLACK LABRADOR, if i am getting any dog)
and then i realise mum was playing fetch with him
so he was holding this blue football in his mouth (covered in saliva)
and after a few rounds of fetch
he let go of the ball
and was so smoking hot air was coming out of his nostrils like steam from a tank engine
and the drool fell from his mouth like a screen of waterfall

he was gone.


Part I: nightmare
i missed my very last constitution revision lecture
(as if i'd give a shit...maybe i do subconsciously give a shit hehe)
and was not very happy
when he jumped onto a taxi with me
and not until the red cab went into a halt
did i realise we were getting off at his place
but (don't ask me how it happened, dreams are constructed in an illogical way sometimes)
we appeared at my place
i was quite pissed
both because i didn't do what i planned out to
and that he was following me like a disgusting shadow
i burnt a candle
turned all the lights off in my room
and locked him out

im pretty sure he talked to my mum
which made me hate him more
no one talk to my muse. i talk to my muse.
and i literally kicked him out of my house
i hope he understands my feelings for him now


it bothers me how the details got transported back to reality with me
when i wake up
never before had i felt such happiness and such disgust at the same time

i hold on to a belief,
that dreams are merely things that are never gona happen in life
if the hypothesis is true
then i don't know if i'd like to still believe in it anymore

because we all know a little too clearly
how dreams and reality mirrors each other
and how much agony it brings when the lines get blurry and they start to intertwine
so you'd forget which one you are in

last word:
its indescribable how funny feelings come and go
something so strong like hate can melt with a breakdown and love blossoms with the baby tulips
some other love, built on confusion and illusion
can survive
time and time
and hurt
i have to admit that the pulses are not as strong as before
but they had just turned from collisions to ripples
so the thought of it doesn't pain me anymore, merely made me shiver


but even though you said you know how it felt.
you'll never feel what i've felt



this is love