I wish that I’m writing this in a fit of anger. At least it would help to soothe the angst that I harbor towards everyone and everything in life now. I’ve always walked the middle path in life since I was a teenager, never choosing to conform to what society wants out of me and look at what benefits it brought me.
I was of a different size when I was younger. Less chubby even. If I have to describe, let’s just say that I was a walking bespectacled broomstick with long, wavy locks that fell below her shoulders. Family friends used to whisper that I needed to gain weight because I was severely underweight, but I didn’t care. I guess that was the initial signs of my rebellion. It was after college prom that I chopped it off and shortened the length. I craved a new start and a new chapter. It is arguable that the events in my life has shaped me in the way that I am because of the lessons and experiences garnered along the way, but what I never expected was the emotional weight left behind.
The line between black and white has blurred into a shade of grey and turned me into someone I no longer recognize. All I see is someone tired of maintaining two roles: someone who is optimistic and her true self. What greets me at the other end of the mirror is a girl who’s tormented by negative emotions (read: anxiety and overthinking) and biting the tree bark but failing to see life’s purpose for her. It is as if she has lost her way in this big, strange world where all the familiarity of sight and smell has evaporated into thin air. The memories that she once held close to her heart are slipping through the cracks of her fingers.
She’s someone who would be there for those in need of help yet she sadly knows that the comfort she desires, no one is able to envelope her with. The kind of comfort she values only exists in the perfect world, not in reality. Or not found in anyone. She knows that those folks whom she has helped before but turned a blind way when she was down in the dumps are laughing in the distance at her expense. She is also aware that this is the result of their achievements and they have conveniently forgotten the belief that life is a two-way street. That’s for sure; life has a funny way of obscuring what is right and wrong. If things have turned out in this unexpected manner, she has no choice but to turn her back. She has no choice but to throw her deck of cards into the campfire and watch it burn to embers before silently leaving without a word of notice. She won’t leave a note informing of her impending destination or where she’ll settle down because she no longer sees the reason to do so. She is in need of the isolation to recuperate from her weakened soul.
Whoever said that you only know who your true friends are during moments of hardship must have experienced tribulations in his or her life before. This quote is relatable for many yet not commonly acknowledged. Yes, I know a lot of people and a handful of them are who I think are my good friends, but no one - and only me - know the agony I’m living with. Imagine being stabbed repeatedly with a knife and unable to scream in pain because you don’t want to be labelled as an attention seeker. (And sadly, this is why there is a lack of awareness surrounding mental illness. It is such a sensitive topic that those suffering from it are embarrassed to openly discuss it because society doesn’t know how to accommodate the imbalance.) Imagine your repeated attempts to suppress your irritability when someone ruffles your feathers. Got the picture? That’s how I feel towards homo sapiens now. So, before you remark about how disrespectful and rude I have become, understand the factors and circumstances that led me to that stage.
I know I’m pushing people away or keeping them at a distance with my irritability, but I’m not apologizing for it whatsoever. Why should I worry whether they’ll be upset with me when I’m running low on fuel? It’s about time that I prioritize my well-being over that of others. There’s no one better than me who knows I’m capable of when my dark side emerges from the hidden depths of my soul…. and I know it’s emerging from its hideout after spending an x number of years in dormancy. It is only when I unleash my fury that people around me learn that I’m not to be messed with, which would be too late for them by then.
When the time comes, I’ll place this blog and all of my social media accounts on the backburner and hide myself in a place where no one can find me. If this is how the deck of cards are handed to me, I’ve had enough of playing it. I’m exhausted by the games life has me played for four and a half years now. I’ve had enough of dealing with double-faced people who have bled me throughout and decided to dispose me like a spoilt rag doll.
Friday, October 26, 2018
Sunday, October 21, 2018
10/21/18
I dreamt that I received news of a murder that was committed in a house. So, me being me, I decided to poke my nose into the matter. I found myself returning to my childhood home. I ran into a schoolgirl the moment I arrived at the district. The schoolgirl confessed that the murder involved my brother and he was alleged to have killed his wife.
The next scene panned to someone’s house porch. It was at a terrace house with a small grassy lawn towards the side. In front of the door was a black-colored car. It was me, the adult version of me, and two children chilling out there. The boy was playing with a girl - both were about five years old the least. The girl decided to offer me a piece of cookie from the container that she brought from home. She said that it was her mother who asked her to bring it to us. One thing that stood out was her hair color. Her hair color was as blonde and shiny as a Goldie’s fur. I sat on the steps that led to the entrance and kept an eye on the two little folks.
An investigative officer for the murder case visited us at the house with updates about the missing person’s case. We were in the midst of a conversation by the gate when someone shouted that there were bones found by the drain. I exchanged a look with him before I saw the reaction in my adult self. Color faded from her face as she absorbed that piece of news, but she hoped against all hope that the bones didn’t belong to the person she missed. As tears swam in her eyes, she shook her head, as if to say please, please, not him.
A group of residents surrounded this particular spot along the alley that divided the rows of houses. There were whispers and chatters until someone gingerly picked up a skull by the drain. It was followed with a gasp from everyone. The skull’s bone structure fit the description of a missing person. The police officer in charge of the case turned in my direction with a frown. I panicked at this sight because I knew what it meant immediately. I was unable to accept the news and reversed before I ran home in tears.
Interpretation
I don’t know what to make out of the dream, to be honest. This is the second day in a week that my dream has a touch of the core course. *throws hands in the air* It also doesn’t help my case that I was thrown awake at 8 am (when I slept at 3 am - don’t ask why; it might have been the combination of cannin and caffeine) with a cold hand on my spine.
Dreaming about the terrace house might be indicative of my future house - but I know it won't be in Australia because I've not seen any Australian house with that kind of layout in my dream. It's only the houses in Malaysia that have it. I'm going to assume that I dreamt of a future version of myself with two children - a boy and a girl. The only question was the girl's hair color because it's unlikely to be my future child, seeing that I'm brunette and the little girl was a blonde.
As for the skull, I'd say that it is indicative of death or the death of something in me. Maybe an element of my personality. Maybe my viewpoint about people.
The next scene panned to someone’s house porch. It was at a terrace house with a small grassy lawn towards the side. In front of the door was a black-colored car. It was me, the adult version of me, and two children chilling out there. The boy was playing with a girl - both were about five years old the least. The girl decided to offer me a piece of cookie from the container that she brought from home. She said that it was her mother who asked her to bring it to us. One thing that stood out was her hair color. Her hair color was as blonde and shiny as a Goldie’s fur. I sat on the steps that led to the entrance and kept an eye on the two little folks.
An investigative officer for the murder case visited us at the house with updates about the missing person’s case. We were in the midst of a conversation by the gate when someone shouted that there were bones found by the drain. I exchanged a look with him before I saw the reaction in my adult self. Color faded from her face as she absorbed that piece of news, but she hoped against all hope that the bones didn’t belong to the person she missed. As tears swam in her eyes, she shook her head, as if to say please, please, not him.
A group of residents surrounded this particular spot along the alley that divided the rows of houses. There were whispers and chatters until someone gingerly picked up a skull by the drain. It was followed with a gasp from everyone. The skull’s bone structure fit the description of a missing person. The police officer in charge of the case turned in my direction with a frown. I panicked at this sight because I knew what it meant immediately. I was unable to accept the news and reversed before I ran home in tears.
Interpretation
I don’t know what to make out of the dream, to be honest. This is the second day in a week that my dream has a touch of the core course. *throws hands in the air* It also doesn’t help my case that I was thrown awake at 8 am (when I slept at 3 am - don’t ask why; it might have been the combination of cannin and caffeine) with a cold hand on my spine.
Dreaming about the terrace house might be indicative of my future house - but I know it won't be in Australia because I've not seen any Australian house with that kind of layout in my dream. It's only the houses in Malaysia that have it. I'm going to assume that I dreamt of a future version of myself with two children - a boy and a girl. The only question was the girl's hair color because it's unlikely to be my future child, seeing that I'm brunette and the little girl was a blonde.
As for the skull, I'd say that it is indicative of death or the death of something in me. Maybe an element of my personality. Maybe my viewpoint about people.
Friday, October 19, 2018
The volcanic rumble
I’ve been done with everything since the start of this semester - and I don’t know what I’m relying on to survive the remaining weeks. Neither have I taken any energy drinks nor have I taken anything I shouldn't. Maybe it’s just me burying deep into an emergency tank that I never knew I had. Maybe once that has been depleted, I’ll let everything go and hide myself from the world. Take an x number of weeks off social media and hibernate in a place where no one can find me. Just as and when I thought that the most stressful time was over, little did I know that the second part of it would knock on my door. But it’s fine. I foresaw that I’d be dead from the academic stress in the final semester. I just have to endure a couple more weeks and there would be one less thing for me to lose sleep over.
Another thing that has stood out was my irritability. I’ve always been on the extreme side and suffered from intense mood swings since college, but it’s getting really bad nowadays. A friend decided to throw me under the bus with a fictional situation a couple of days ago, which usually doesn’t affect me whatsoever because it doesn’t carry any weight. I know it was said in jest, but I couldn’t help but be annoyed over it. My sister knows that whenever I answer with a slow, emphasized ‘what did you just say?’, I’m expressing my displeasure … or about to lose my cool, depending on the context of the conversation. Maybe it was extremely subtle to the point where he didn’t notice that my blood boiled, but there was an edge to my voice after I sought clarification from the tutor on a certain topic. My friend playfully whinged that my action stopped him and my sister from leaving. I don’t know if he meant it or not, but I replied that the two of them were more than welcome to have waited for me in the hallway instead. It sounded alright in my mind, but it came out sassier than I wanted. If something as petty as that almost made me lose my temper in front of everyone, it’s absolutely certain that I’m more irritable now - especially when someone makes a monkey out of me at my expense.
It’s ironic that I crave for the stress but crash under the weight of it. I never expected that I’ll bite off more than I could chew. This is best illustrated by one of the recent oral presentations that I did for the course. Unlike the ones that I have done throughout my studies, this was slightly different because it involved the collaboration of an entire class. Not all of us were comfortable with the idea because of the possibility of personality clashes - yet it had to be done. It was compulsory anyway. I absolutely have no idea why I volunteered myself to be one of the presenters (even though I no longer have the confidence to speak in front of my peers, no matter how much time I’ve had to prepare for it). Having the paper rest on my thigh was uncomfortable because I had to shoot glances at it and ensure that I wasn’t lost, but my hand shook as bad as an aftershock when I held the paper.
I’m easily exhausted nowadays; if it’s not physical, it’s mental. It’s sometimes both - and that’s when it gets too much for me to cope. My immune system must’ve taken a beating from all of the stress and suppressed emotions that it has decided to fight back in ways i don’t appreciate.
She found it hard to believe that after spending many years abroad, I’ve made the conscious decision to come home. Yet, in exchange, I’m throwing big dreams of mine into the sea and a shattered viewpoint on life and people. Most of us who have gone overseas for our tertiary education have unwillingly returned either because of family commitments or work-related commitments. It’s not that I’m exhausted from being a vagabond. It’s because I need a familiar place, a place where I can lay all of my cards down in peace and lick my wounds. Mr. YY mentioned before that I’ll be as bright as the sun once I’m abroad, but all that has surrounded me in the comforting arm of darkness. The line that divides light from dark has blurred now. Without the self-control, those feelings would leak onto my face and incur further questions from those around me. I understand their concern, but I don’t know whether it is done of a genuine or a fake concern. The world is like a shark pond; you don’t know who you are dealing with. I wouldn’t reach out to people for help yet when they ask if I’m coping, I’ll lie through my teeth that life is peachy (even though I want a hug or a shoulder to cry on). My struggles are for me to bear alone and I won’t burden anyone.
As this is written by my zombified version at 2 am, there may be parts where it won't make sense, but I hope it has enough content to alleviate any form of confusion.
I initially thought that when I’m as busy as a bee with the assignments and volunteering activities, it’d take my mind off those things. The opposite occurred; most nights are spent thinking about how much I dislike humanity and people’s ever-changing masks to suit their circumstances. Nobody would truthfully help others, that’s something I’ve noticed lately. It’s a dog-eat-dog world where the strongest and sneakiest would emerge as the sole survivor. I know it sounds harsh, but let’s face it. Most things in life come at a price - and it’s up to an individual to decide if it is worth the sacrifice."What did you just say?"
Another thing that has stood out was my irritability. I’ve always been on the extreme side and suffered from intense mood swings since college, but it’s getting really bad nowadays. A friend decided to throw me under the bus with a fictional situation a couple of days ago, which usually doesn’t affect me whatsoever because it doesn’t carry any weight. I know it was said in jest, but I couldn’t help but be annoyed over it. My sister knows that whenever I answer with a slow, emphasized ‘what did you just say?’, I’m expressing my displeasure … or about to lose my cool, depending on the context of the conversation. Maybe it was extremely subtle to the point where he didn’t notice that my blood boiled, but there was an edge to my voice after I sought clarification from the tutor on a certain topic. My friend playfully whinged that my action stopped him and my sister from leaving. I don’t know if he meant it or not, but I replied that the two of them were more than welcome to have waited for me in the hallway instead. It sounded alright in my mind, but it came out sassier than I wanted. If something as petty as that almost made me lose my temper in front of everyone, it’s absolutely certain that I’m more irritable now - especially when someone makes a monkey out of me at my expense.
It’s ironic that I crave for the stress but crash under the weight of it. I never expected that I’ll bite off more than I could chew. This is best illustrated by one of the recent oral presentations that I did for the course. Unlike the ones that I have done throughout my studies, this was slightly different because it involved the collaboration of an entire class. Not all of us were comfortable with the idea because of the possibility of personality clashes - yet it had to be done. It was compulsory anyway. I absolutely have no idea why I volunteered myself to be one of the presenters (even though I no longer have the confidence to speak in front of my peers, no matter how much time I’ve had to prepare for it). Having the paper rest on my thigh was uncomfortable because I had to shoot glances at it and ensure that I wasn’t lost, but my hand shook as bad as an aftershock when I held the paper.
I’m easily exhausted nowadays; if it’s not physical, it’s mental. It’s sometimes both - and that’s when it gets too much for me to cope. My immune system must’ve taken a beating from all of the stress and suppressed emotions that it has decided to fight back in ways i don’t appreciate.
I had a Skype session with a childhood friend ages ago - or rather some time during the spring break after years of not maintaining frequent contact with each other. We’ve only kept tabs via Instagram. At one moment in time, we were both international students albeit in two different countries, so we understood each other’s pain and angst about it. The above quote was actually shared by her - she concurs that although the grass is greener on the other side, it’s only the lucky ones who experience the positive aspects of it."Life abroad isn’t as glorious as everyone makes it out to be."
She found it hard to believe that after spending many years abroad, I’ve made the conscious decision to come home. Yet, in exchange, I’m throwing big dreams of mine into the sea and a shattered viewpoint on life and people. Most of us who have gone overseas for our tertiary education have unwillingly returned either because of family commitments or work-related commitments. It’s not that I’m exhausted from being a vagabond. It’s because I need a familiar place, a place where I can lay all of my cards down in peace and lick my wounds. Mr. YY mentioned before that I’ll be as bright as the sun once I’m abroad, but all that has surrounded me in the comforting arm of darkness. The line that divides light from dark has blurred now. Without the self-control, those feelings would leak onto my face and incur further questions from those around me. I understand their concern, but I don’t know whether it is done of a genuine or a fake concern. The world is like a shark pond; you don’t know who you are dealing with. I wouldn’t reach out to people for help yet when they ask if I’m coping, I’ll lie through my teeth that life is peachy (even though I want a hug or a shoulder to cry on). My struggles are for me to bear alone and I won’t burden anyone.
I know people are waiting to catch up with me yet my heart has turned cold towards them, especially after everything that has happened. I’m finding it ironic that those who chose to ignore you when you need them most would be the ones who would be running towards you with open arms. But at least once I’m done, I’m done. I can close the chapter on my bittersweet four year journey. To say that I want to turn the time back would mean not meeting that handful of friends. I just wish that it wasn’t at the expense of my optimism and confidence.“Don’t call me heartless when you made me this way.”
As this is written by my zombified version at 2 am, there may be parts where it won't make sense, but I hope it has enough content to alleviate any form of confusion.
Wednesday, October 17, 2018
10/17/18
I dreamt that a fashion event was held in an abandoned building. If I hadn’t known about its history, I wouldn’t have known that it was once unoccupied for a long time. It was as if the management ensured that they went to extreme lengths to remove all traces of its past - including its decorations.
There was a registration table on the ground floor, but it was hidden from public view. It was in a little room that was at the back of the building. There was an elevator close to the entrance to the room. It required someone familiar with the building layout to know where it was. As we walked towards the room, I noticed that the wall art was similar to the one that an acquaintance used for her house. After we collected our name tags from the person in charge, we were guided to the location hosting the event that we registered for.
It was a beautifully decorated third floor. There was a chair outside the elevator - for reasons that I don’t know. Accompanying the chair was a side table with a window on top of it. The side table had a vase of flowers as a decorative piece. The events were divided by rooms and floors - it was a large event with different segments to it. The fees that we paid also differed in that regard. The more events we attended, the higher fees that we needed to pay. The one that we registered for was held in a medium-sized and brightly lit room. The stage was decorated with white curtains with a couple of tables scattered across the place.
Interpretation
The emotions that I picked up from the abandoned building bordered on loneliness - even though the management removed all traces of its past. With regards to this, MetroEve.com suggested that the following: ‘To dream of an abandoned house represents belief systems, ways of living, or relationships that have been discarded. It may also reflect abandoned ideas or a future you planned for yourself and gave up on. Decisions or lifestyle choices you are aware of yourself having purposely given up.’ This is true; I’m living on a shaky bedrock. I know the future that I’ll have would differ from the one I planned for myself after high school. Life’s cruel stroke, I guess.
Maybe the hidden room connotes a self of me that I’ve hidden from the rest of the world - including those closest to me. I’m like an onion. When you think you have gotten to the core, there are more layers to be peeled, revealing something different about me. According to MetroEve.com, the dream most likely is trying to remind me that I have more potential than I am willing to let on. Furthermore, it might be a reminder to return to something that I have placed on the backburner. This reminds me of a story that I’m trying to write in the free time that I have. It’s a hard task - because whatever free time I have, I want to spend it on myself not doing anything but sleep. The fact that I have dreamt of an elevator signifies 'an awareness that a choice will be better or worse with ease once I make the choice.' Is this hinting at my desire to return home and the dilemma I faced in making that decision? I won't deny that there are pros and cons to the decision.
The thing that caught my attention in the dream was the vase of flowers because it came straight out of a movie scene. DreamBible.com opines that dreaming of flowers means that I’ve noticed something nice or gorgeous and appreciating those around me. That’s the positive aspect of it. The negative side would be me being a narcissist and vain, but the one that strikes a chord with me is ‘dwelling too much on how good your life used to be before something bad happened’. Because I made the decision to pursue my studies abroad, I had a different life. I’d say it was more stable than the one I’m having now. And I was definitely less moody.
As for the chair, it means that I’ve made a decision and would not be swayed by the opinion of others. It might even mean that I’ve had enough of the unequal treatment I’ve received over the years and my intention to make it a level playing field while giving those people a taste of their own medicine.
Here’s the interesting part. The color white. In the dream, everything from the decorations to the wall was in white, leaving everyone in peace and in admiration. I’m not sure if this means I’ve dragged myself through the deeper levels of hell that I need some peace to balance things out. On one hand, it does feel that I’m bearing grudges and angst in my heart but am doing my best to mask those feelings. I don’t know why, but there is a part of me which feels that the consequences of my decisions would only bring hurt to those around me. Also there is a fear that I won’t be the perfect person that I want to be.
As for the stage, I’d have to agree with the interpretation that there is ’a heightened sense of pressure to succeed or perform well under pressure'. These last couple of years have caused me to live in a pressure cooker for most of the time. Don’t even remind me of my anxiety levels when I catch myself thinking about my readiness to graduate and be financially independent. I’m not saying that it’s a bad thing, but I’ve no idea whether I can cope with the stressful environment of my chosen path. There is some truth to this. Although I was comfortable with being one of the presenters, I felt that I could’ve done better. It would have been easier to have held the paper in my hand and speak instead of letting it rest on my thighs - but I just couldn’t. When I tried to hold the paper up, my hand started to shake.
There was a registration table on the ground floor, but it was hidden from public view. It was in a little room that was at the back of the building. There was an elevator close to the entrance to the room. It required someone familiar with the building layout to know where it was. As we walked towards the room, I noticed that the wall art was similar to the one that an acquaintance used for her house. After we collected our name tags from the person in charge, we were guided to the location hosting the event that we registered for.
It was a beautifully decorated third floor. There was a chair outside the elevator - for reasons that I don’t know. Accompanying the chair was a side table with a window on top of it. The side table had a vase of flowers as a decorative piece. The events were divided by rooms and floors - it was a large event with different segments to it. The fees that we paid also differed in that regard. The more events we attended, the higher fees that we needed to pay. The one that we registered for was held in a medium-sized and brightly lit room. The stage was decorated with white curtains with a couple of tables scattered across the place.
Interpretation
The emotions that I picked up from the abandoned building bordered on loneliness - even though the management removed all traces of its past. With regards to this, MetroEve.com suggested that the following: ‘To dream of an abandoned house represents belief systems, ways of living, or relationships that have been discarded. It may also reflect abandoned ideas or a future you planned for yourself and gave up on. Decisions or lifestyle choices you are aware of yourself having purposely given up.’ This is true; I’m living on a shaky bedrock. I know the future that I’ll have would differ from the one I planned for myself after high school. Life’s cruel stroke, I guess.
Maybe the hidden room connotes a self of me that I’ve hidden from the rest of the world - including those closest to me. I’m like an onion. When you think you have gotten to the core, there are more layers to be peeled, revealing something different about me. According to MetroEve.com, the dream most likely is trying to remind me that I have more potential than I am willing to let on. Furthermore, it might be a reminder to return to something that I have placed on the backburner. This reminds me of a story that I’m trying to write in the free time that I have. It’s a hard task - because whatever free time I have, I want to spend it on myself not doing anything but sleep. The fact that I have dreamt of an elevator signifies 'an awareness that a choice will be better or worse with ease once I make the choice.' Is this hinting at my desire to return home and the dilemma I faced in making that decision? I won't deny that there are pros and cons to the decision.
The thing that caught my attention in the dream was the vase of flowers because it came straight out of a movie scene. DreamBible.com opines that dreaming of flowers means that I’ve noticed something nice or gorgeous and appreciating those around me. That’s the positive aspect of it. The negative side would be me being a narcissist and vain, but the one that strikes a chord with me is ‘dwelling too much on how good your life used to be before something bad happened’. Because I made the decision to pursue my studies abroad, I had a different life. I’d say it was more stable than the one I’m having now. And I was definitely less moody.
As for the chair, it means that I’ve made a decision and would not be swayed by the opinion of others. It might even mean that I’ve had enough of the unequal treatment I’ve received over the years and my intention to make it a level playing field while giving those people a taste of their own medicine.
Here’s the interesting part. The color white. In the dream, everything from the decorations to the wall was in white, leaving everyone in peace and in admiration. I’m not sure if this means I’ve dragged myself through the deeper levels of hell that I need some peace to balance things out. On one hand, it does feel that I’m bearing grudges and angst in my heart but am doing my best to mask those feelings. I don’t know why, but there is a part of me which feels that the consequences of my decisions would only bring hurt to those around me. Also there is a fear that I won’t be the perfect person that I want to be.
As for the stage, I’d have to agree with the interpretation that there is ’a heightened sense of pressure to succeed or perform well under pressure'. These last couple of years have caused me to live in a pressure cooker for most of the time. Don’t even remind me of my anxiety levels when I catch myself thinking about my readiness to graduate and be financially independent. I’m not saying that it’s a bad thing, but I’ve no idea whether I can cope with the stressful environment of my chosen path. There is some truth to this. Although I was comfortable with being one of the presenters, I felt that I could’ve done better. It would have been easier to have held the paper in my hand and speak instead of letting it rest on my thighs - but I just couldn’t. When I tried to hold the paper up, my hand started to shake.
Tuesday, October 16, 2018
10/16/18
I dreamt that there was a commotion at the auditorium, so I rushed in to see whether I could offer my assistance. It was quieter than a graveyard. The seating rows faced the front of the auditorium, which was a large floor-to-ceiling glass window. At the back row, a female had held a knife against another girl’s throat and warned everyone to stay frozen in their seat. There were footsteps approaching the back door of the auditorium, which caught everyone’s attention. Before anyone could make their escape in that split second, a delivery man entered with a box addressed to the captor.
The captor opened the box and read the letter before she dropped the box, spilling its contents everywhere. “We are no longer in love,” she repeated aloud.
The next scene involved me struggling to breathe and the doctor rushing to stabilize my condition. It was moments later that I realized that it was just a dream. I was alright and I felt like I was back in my own room with the peach-colored walls, but I temporarily lived in a student hostel for the duration of my degree because home was far away. The door was left ajar; although my eyes were closed, I was semi-conscious and overheard discussions about one of the courses flowing in from the hallway.
The final scene involved me finding a dead person who had committed suicide. He hanged himself from the ceiling fan. The chair was on its side nearby, which was indicative that he kicked the chair aside after tightened the noose around his neck.
Interpretation
If I can remember right, this is the first time that I've dreamt of a place with so many people inside. It is possible, according to DreamBible.com, that I've an issue in my life that I need more attention on. I'm not sure what the scene is indicating at, but I've my suspicions. Suspicions that I'll not share in public because there are some things that should remain private. Failing which, there is something that I have been paying close attention to.
As for the hostage situation, it could be a reflection of something that I am unable to express or the exhaustion of caving in to the wishes of others without asserting myself. In short, I may be pleasing people at the expense of my own wishes and happiness.
It's rather odd that I'd dream of a delivery to a person - the fact that the box fell down the seats without injuring anyone is beyond me. A box would not move on its own - it requires someone to push it or throw it down the steps. Yet, it may just mean that my subconscious wants closure on things in my life. Maybe it's the awkward situation with the college friend. Maybe it's the suppressed emotions that has been my company since sophomore year. Maybe it's time I break out of my cage.
It can’t be considered as lucid dreaming because it isn’t. Lucid dreaming would require me to be aware that I am dreaming and me being in control of the narrative. Nonetheless, the interpretation of this is that I might be visited by friends who are not based in the same place as me. Another proposition is a marriage proposal. The latter is weirder because I don’t even have plans for a relationship now, what more marriage. Sure, there are times when I do think about the idea of marriage, but it does not mean that I’ll go through with it (even though I’m facing with pressure from folks around me).
It no longer surprises me when I dream of finding dead bodies anymore. I mean, it’s the second time that it has happened. The first involved me stumbling upon a bloodied crime scene. And now this. DreamsCloud.com highly suggests that this may mean that I have not buried a situation or a relationship that has met its end. This definitely hints at the college friend. Although we aren’t exactly friends anymore, I do think of him from time to time and hope that we’d be able to have a drink and reminisce, just like the lyrics for Kodaline’s Moving On. Another interpretation is that I’m emotionally dead. Am I then emotionally numb? I know that I’ve not arrived at that stage - it takes a lot for me to reach that pinnacle - but I’m more cynical than I’ll ever be. Nothing in life excites me anymore. Only time will reveal everything.
The captor opened the box and read the letter before she dropped the box, spilling its contents everywhere. “We are no longer in love,” she repeated aloud.
The next scene involved me struggling to breathe and the doctor rushing to stabilize my condition. It was moments later that I realized that it was just a dream. I was alright and I felt like I was back in my own room with the peach-colored walls, but I temporarily lived in a student hostel for the duration of my degree because home was far away. The door was left ajar; although my eyes were closed, I was semi-conscious and overheard discussions about one of the courses flowing in from the hallway.
The final scene involved me finding a dead person who had committed suicide. He hanged himself from the ceiling fan. The chair was on its side nearby, which was indicative that he kicked the chair aside after tightened the noose around his neck.
Interpretation
If I can remember right, this is the first time that I've dreamt of a place with so many people inside. It is possible, according to DreamBible.com, that I've an issue in my life that I need more attention on. I'm not sure what the scene is indicating at, but I've my suspicions. Suspicions that I'll not share in public because there are some things that should remain private. Failing which, there is something that I have been paying close attention to.
As for the hostage situation, it could be a reflection of something that I am unable to express or the exhaustion of caving in to the wishes of others without asserting myself. In short, I may be pleasing people at the expense of my own wishes and happiness.
It's rather odd that I'd dream of a delivery to a person - the fact that the box fell down the seats without injuring anyone is beyond me. A box would not move on its own - it requires someone to push it or throw it down the steps. Yet, it may just mean that my subconscious wants closure on things in my life. Maybe it's the awkward situation with the college friend. Maybe it's the suppressed emotions that has been my company since sophomore year. Maybe it's time I break out of my cage.
It can’t be considered as lucid dreaming because it isn’t. Lucid dreaming would require me to be aware that I am dreaming and me being in control of the narrative. Nonetheless, the interpretation of this is that I might be visited by friends who are not based in the same place as me. Another proposition is a marriage proposal. The latter is weirder because I don’t even have plans for a relationship now, what more marriage. Sure, there are times when I do think about the idea of marriage, but it does not mean that I’ll go through with it (even though I’m facing with pressure from folks around me).
It no longer surprises me when I dream of finding dead bodies anymore. I mean, it’s the second time that it has happened. The first involved me stumbling upon a bloodied crime scene. And now this. DreamsCloud.com highly suggests that this may mean that I have not buried a situation or a relationship that has met its end. This definitely hints at the college friend. Although we aren’t exactly friends anymore, I do think of him from time to time and hope that we’d be able to have a drink and reminisce, just like the lyrics for Kodaline’s Moving On. Another interpretation is that I’m emotionally dead. Am I then emotionally numb? I know that I’ve not arrived at that stage - it takes a lot for me to reach that pinnacle - but I’m more cynical than I’ll ever be. Nothing in life excites me anymore. Only time will reveal everything.
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