Reality dreamingI had a horrible, horrible, HORRIBLE dream. And when I woke up with a cold, jarringly sharp jerk, it didn’t get any better. The intensity still had me in its clawing grip and I was compelled to throw away the blanket and dash for the phone.
But then I stopped myself. How do I contact someone, when he was oceans away, when I didn’t know his number, when I technically didn’t know him, and the only way to ‘contact’ him was to email him?!!
Oh, the anxiety of having to wait till the computer booted up, and the hurriedness of rushing brushing my teeth while waiting, and the pacing as the modem dialled up the Net. All while still in my night dress.
In the end I could only email a message to enquiry but I knew that I would only ‘hear’ from him a couple of days later, especially since it was the weekend.
I was with some people. It was a convoluted mix of people from the different circles that makes me ‘me’. A few colleagues from the office, some ex-colleagues, some ex-students, some college friend, some outward bound organisers and participants, and mostly strangers.
It was a funeral. For him. And as I tried to absorb the shock and accept the reality, this lady came up to me and asked if I knew him. Paranoia set in, I don’t know why.
Who is this? What does she know? Why is she asking if I knew him? Should I acknowledge that I knew him at all?
I found myself sitting down in one of the chairs. How she guided me to sit, I don’t know.
Damn she’s good. That was subtle. Must be careful what I say.
:You knew him?:
Yes, I do.
:It has been a shock to all of us here too.:
:No one really knows. That’s the problem.:
How can this be? Inside, I was keening...
:I know. He was so young. I heard that his heart just gave out?:
Just gave out?
:Yeah. So sad. How did you know him?:
There was something in my memory banks but it was elusive. I decided to chance it and tell her.
I knew him through his blog.
She nodded, as if she knew, as if she was like me.
:Yeah. I heard that he wasn’t really doing anything.:
I tried to recall if I knew what he did during the day. But I couldn’t remember.
It must be what she said. But, oh,... why Wayne?
I woke with a gasp. Already scrambling in my mind, split second later, stopped, cos I didn’t know where to scramble to.
What did one do, when one felt this compulsion to find out if another person was alright? What did one do, when there was no way to call, to phone this person, when there was no number? What did one do, when only a voice could calm this fear inside, but there was no way to do it? What did one do, to get rid of this oh-so-real emotion inside; not knowing if the dream was real, or reality decided to take a page out of your dreams? How does one differentiate between the two?
It was so real. I thought I had made it come true, or it had seeped into my dreams to torment me, because it was had really already happened, a moment ago.
Imagine my relief when it was just a morbid dream… Imagine my relief to see some movement in his blog… That it was just a cough he was having…
How does one protect oneself from one’s own dreamings?
While trying to shake off the fear inside, I imagine the sorrow I would feel if one day, suddenly, he went silent… and he… and she, she, he, he, and so many others… how do I ever quell the loss?
I think I’ve become too attached to the bloggers’ world… I think I've been wondering too much everyday what happened to him... Made too many friends without realising that I’ve been setting a trap for myself here… if one of them was gone… I wouldn’t know how to patch the hole…
I’m too morbid, I know… but then I’ve always been so... can't help it...