3/5/2017

I dreamt that there were a bunch of us huddled in an elevator while waiting to exit at our intended floor. We laughed out loud over something that one of the girls mentioned when the only male friend broke into coughing fits. I didn’t know what happened to him, so I patted his back to help him clear his throat. It wasn’t until he coughed out a thick liquid onto his white napkin that a death-defying silence fell upon us.

Blood.

He sensed our horror and tried to soothe us that it was nothing big, but not me because I knew what it meant.

I bolted out of the place and cried my eye sockets out when my suspicions were proven true in the form of a pathologist’s report. Lung cancer. And the poor chap looked miserable and pale in the span of a week. It was like the revelation bled any form of life from him.

I blocked the sight of him and his news out of my mind when we entered a premium-looking immigration complex. One of the immigration ministers was en-route to his office after a smoking break. A shopping mall was its neighbor, which allowed the applicants the means and method to kill some time - if required to - or satiate their thirst/hunger. She caught up with my childhood friend and his younger sister when I pretended to immerse myself with the range of perfume that this particular shop carried. Although the mere smell of it sends me running for the hills in a sneezing attack, I had already decided to purchase a bottle of fragrance for the gravely-ill friend, whose birthday was just around the corner. I didn’t want to face any mutual friends while I came to terms with the bleak prognosis.

To be honest, this dream has leaned towards the weirder side. I mean, this is the second time that the childhood friend has appeared in my dream. It has to mean something, right? Otherwise, why has he decided to make himself known in my dream? And with his sister this time?

Let’s blow the scenes into a frame by frame analysis then.

The lung cancer prognosis could mean that a friendship’s about to prematurely electrocuted. The premium-looking immigration complex might indicate my desire to visit Pavilion and sink my face into Kurtos Spiroll. Not wanting to acknowledge the childhood friend could be my intention to distance myself from everyone whom I know. I’ve never bought a bottle of fragrance and will not do so for at least a long while, but it might be a symbol of the early birthday gift that I intend to pass to the finance friend.