It was while I was making the payment for two shares of futomaki that I received a message on my cell, signaled that Eric had arrived at the agreed place. I replied that I was buying something and would be there in between five to ten.
When I had arrived there, we exchanged short words and a hug before he brought me up to his 2R1B condo located on the 22st floor. The minute he flung the door open, I found my paternal cousin,
I felt relieved that I had made the decision to purchase the two shares of futomaki and treated both Eric and Angela to it while I hovered to his kitchen to brew us a jar of green tea. I knew his place quite well; I have been there too many times not to have it embedded in my mind. Furthermore, he allowed me to treat his place like my own.
My thoughts: OK. Why I had dreamed of Angela, I don't have the slightest clue. I don't remember ever meeting her as she's forever based in Sydney (or Melbourne, ask Papa Carrie) and rarely returns. Can't blame her; she has a family of her own now. But I'm however aware that she's a younger brother - his name is Marcus - who died in a car accident 2 years before my grand entrance. From what Papa Carrie mentioned, it was so horrific that he sustained severe injuries and landed their mother in hospital for quite a while.
I've seen Marcus's picture in the home obituary that his parents had made for him; exact replica of his father, the small sharp eyes, the bulky jaw.
I know this dream means something; I can feel it. I can feel that the subconscious me is craving for a day out with the girls and throw out our worries on the table, leaving each other with fruitful and appreciated advices.