Dreams, Sins and Beauty

Chronicles of a Dreamscape Reality…

So last night I had a little dream. Not a liquid one, not a sleazy one, not a very clear one, but an impressionable one at the very least.

The setting is in a lift. It wasn’t the average four by four lift, but more like some kind of cargo lift with wider dimensions. I have no inkling as to where this lift belongs to, but it was airy and spacious, without the claustrophobic connotations of the day to day lift we take home or at some shopping centre. I did not have any feeling of being caved in which most lifts would most probably give. There is freedom, even if it was just a lift. Even if it was just a dream.

So I entered the lift. From where and where to, I have no idea. It was more like an immediate response. The lift comes, you go in. Not an activity which requires any extra thought. A similar analogy would be like going to a toilet urinal and unzipping. Just pull out your precious and start peeing. Natural response.

In the lift was a girl. She was wearing a black tube or spaghetti top, I really can’t recall because my attention was not focused on what she was wearing. The bottom match was a normal pair of denim jeans. Low waist of otherwise, I can’t recall either. What was striking however, was her glowing tan. And I mean glowing. It was a radiance of sunshine and tanning oil, perhaps the result of spending hours under the sun. It was similar to mine, except it seemed more perfect on her. Very much more perfect…and this compliment comes from a person who usually offers more criticism than praise for the fairer sex.

My gaze lingered at her body for less than a fraction of a second. Reason being, her face was by far more attractive. It was a curious mix of thick Japanese make up on a Chinese face. Beautiful, 美, kirei desu. But words, no matter from which language, goes only so far as thus. It is not a typically pretty face, it had within, imperfections where features are shaped and misgivings where complexion is concerned. But it was the most beautiful face to me because I know that face. Jia Hui.

It is the face of love and beauty which could only belong to a personal Venus. She looked back at me too, and for a brief second, the chemistry of love drifted in the space not confined to the lift, but to our hearts. All the emotions of that puppy love, that first love, that brave love, that wondrous love came back to me. She said something, but I couldn’t make out what her sweet whiney voice wanted to say. At least, now when I’m awake, I can’t remember what it really was. But I guess it does not matter because the expression on her face spoke in a salient voice more meaningful than what words can ever say with equal impact.

And then the lift stopped and she started walking out. Oh those refined and poised steps she took! Then she turned back and out stretched her hand for a handshake (read carefully, handshake not handjob). Oh that smooth skin on her demure hand and girly spoon shaped nails! Then she left. Oh she must have left with my heart. And she left me with a pain so acute, it shattered the dream and I woke up.

If it really was just a dream, why does the pain feel so real? If it really was just a dream, why could I see her, smell her, touch her and taste her as if she was right in front of me? Puzzling as it may be, the stark reality is that I do not even consciously remember how her face looks like anymore since it has been a decade since I’ve seen her. And in my failing memory, she had always been fair. Besides, where was she going? To meet another guy? Her boyfriend? Was she still a virgin as I have left her? Was the person she was meeting the person who took away what I was supposed to have?

Endless possibilities. Endless negative possibilities. Once again, I’m conforming to the set of seven sins known to be deadly. Anger, because she is with another. Lust, because I yearn for more than a handshake. Sloth, because a dream is the result of sleep, which in turn is a result of laziness. Greed, because I’m hoping to acquire something which does not belong to me. Pride, because the vanity of my ego wishes to be loved by this girl. Envy, because my mind has already wandered off to a hypothetical boyfriend. Gluttony, because I ate breakfast immediately after the dream. But heck, man is full of sins…so who cares anyway?

I think the dream was signifying something. At fist I couldn’t pinpoint what my repressed subconscious was manifesting in the form of dreams. Then I decided to pry into my hidden wishes by means of using a logical approach.

The lift journey===A life journey
JiaHui=== A symbolic representation of purity and innocence in love.
Handshake===A sign of goodwill, friendship and perhaps empathy.

Put them all together now. She is a girl who provided me with a short lived love enough to last a lifetime. The journey of a lift, like that of life, makes frequent stops at different levels. People who share the lift journey with me might not always get off at the same place as me. It could be a brief, transient period of togetherness. Therefore, all the more we should cherish those happy loving moments. The handshake was warm and inviting, and perhaps serves as a reminder not to forget about this particular lady and I know I will never.

If a parallel could be drawn between the lift in the dream as life in reality, I think it lies in the fact that I am still alone in the lift, like how I remain in single-hood in reality. But I’ve already pushed the buttons to where I would like to go, anyone who enters the lift now is just a waste of my time.

Unless of course, if that person is beautiful, 美, kirei desu. Unless of course, if that person is Jia Hui. Unless of course, if that person could provide more than a handshake.

A Lonely Night.

Say, I have prohibited the idea of having a girlfriend. It is a breech of my freedOm. All in the good name of fun, here I have with me a couple of scenarios which I’ve seen with good faith and my possible responses. You tell me, if I am worthy of a girlfriend at all.

Let’s say I’ve a girlfriend who is sweet and demure…
dOm: Let’s get married.
Girl A: But you don’t have a house.
dOm: Its okay. We can get married then you stay with your parents while I stay with mine. If you really love me, you won’t need a house as a substantial reason to get married with me…

Let’s say I’ve a girlfriend who fails her module…these will be my consoling words..
dOm: Hmmm fail never mind…just take it as a chance to get to know new friends.
Girl B: But then I don’t want to get to know new friends.
dOm: Er…then I think we should stop seeing each other because then it will not affect your studies. And also, I think you are dumb, and I don’t go out with girls who are intellectually challenged. Plus you were lesbian last time…

Let’s say I’ve a girlfriend who is darn possessive and clingy.
Girl C: Dear, I want to do everything with you.
dOm: Ahhh… Great!!!! Now we can have some threesome fun… I never thought you would have agreed to it!

Let’s say I’ve a girlfriend who will coerce me into not joining some Latin dance class.
Girl D: Hey, I don’t like the idea of you going to Latin dance because you will be groping other girls.
dOm: Okay…let’s break then. Then chu nite, I can arse chu gals chu dance with me to my hearts content. I know this might sound Unbeliftable (Unbelievable), but there is actually a gal who wanted to keep me in her breast pocket. Talk about the groping.

Let’s say I’ve a girlfriend who likes public display of affection.
Girl E: Let’s make out in your brothers nice little car…
dOm: Oh yeah…sure. Let me think of a nice plot in the mean time. (think bangbus)

Let’s say I’ve a girlfriend who is going to Yellow Stone National Park for 3 months.
Girl F: Hey, I’ll be going to the States for three months to see some hot springs. Be good.
dOm: Hey, that’s swell. I’ll be checking out every good looking girl and making sure they squirt like the Old Geyser.

Let’s say I’ve a girlfriend who bears an uncanny resemblance to Cyndi.
Girl G: Hmm, my friends think I look like Cyndi.
(dOm puts fingers into his mouth and gives a perverted look) ‘Nuff said.

Let’s say I’ve a girlfriend who doesn’t know that you need to have sex before you can get pregnant.
Girl H: I didn’t know you need to have sex to get pregnant.
dOm: (wondering to himself) Don’t you people attend Civics and Moral Education Classes?
dOm: (aloud) Yar…That’s exactly why I never believed in chastity. That’s why we should have sex like 7 times a week or more. Don’t worry, that is just an old wives tale.

Okay…end of the scenarios. I think personal freedOm is more crucial than having someone to have lunch with between lessons. And besides, with my attitude and mentality, I think I better spare the girls. It is at times like this when I’m a little high on my brandy drinks that I start thinking about the need for a better half. My conclusion is, it is not worth trying too hard to look for a girl who probably will not accept my flawed lifestyle, mannerisms and attitude. But then again, with warped poetry and flowing words, do I really need a girlfriend?

So this is a poem I’ve put together after a couple of drinks for the good time’s sake. If I had to choose between FreedOm and ‘girlfriend’, I’ll gladly choose the former. At least that leaves me the possibility of drinking another few glasses of whatever I like.

dOm: Brandy Water please. No ice.

A Lonely Night

Beneath the valleys lie the meadows,
A plentiful sight of God’s endows.
Inside the view rests the windows,
Within it hides a man in the shadows,
Where he remains as Love’s only widow.

Now friends have left for greener pastures,
And his fragile heart is left to rapture.
The crimson setting sun leaves much to capture,
Before the leaves succumb to their nightly torture.

The full moo is but a monthly rarity,
Between the days mark a gradual disparity…
But through the years the woman shows no Charity.

Let the stallions gallop forever more in the fields.
Their FreedOm is my only shield…

Against a lonely night as such.

I don't find this yucky...

The sound of metal hooves against the mud tracked dirt roads startled the girl from her reading under the light coming from the elaborately crafted candleholder. She swiftly rose to her feet and pushed aside the floral curtains and looked out of her arch framed window. Having been locked in this remote but impregnable tower since she was fifteen, any chance to view any form of activity from the outside world was a chance not to be missed.

She had seen knights passing along the desolate path beneath, moving from the highlands to the plains where the battle had been raging for years now. She had seen wandering men of fortune, dressed in their shabby cloaks and rugged tunics hustle from the muddy roads below. She had seen streams of refuges and their packed wagons escaping from the war torn county in the plains. She had tried to seek their rescue from her eternal entrapment. But she was mute, and her screams were voiceless.

Within the view of the tapestry high above came a lone sword wielding horseman. The stallion was a fine breed of highland horse, chestnut in colour with a black unkempt mane. It was a fine steed, at least it looked like one to the girl. For amongst the many horses that she had seen the knights riding on before, none had that look of aggression which this particular horse possessed. But now it refused to move forward and was bellowing with an extended neigh while kicking up a dirt storm as it kicked violently. The cause of its tantrums, apparently, was a fallen tree from the previous night’s storm, whose thick trunk had dislodged from its roots and had landed across the road. With dense forestation on either side of the road, there was just no way to bypass the fallen tree. The only way on, was the way over.

The man who rode the stranded beast bore an equally wild appeal. His shoulder length locks fell loosely upon his face. And boy was that the most handsome face she had seen in her entire life. Though at a distance from her, the girl almost thought she saw a sparkle in those deep set eyes which were now fixed upon the obstacle on the road. Those bushy brows were well spaced and it enhanced the intense eyes the man had. The nose bridge ran down to a suitably shaped nose, and the lips seemed to radiate passion. Wild passion.

What caught the girl’s attention next was the gleaming, unsheathed sword which was slung upon the man’s broad shoulders. The blade had jagged edges and narrowed into a sharp tip. Even at this distance, she could see the red ruby encrusted at the tip of the sword. She realised immediately, that this was the legendary Sword of Blood she had read about in her wide collection of books. It was a long, thick and strong sword, and one thrust from it would break any shield and pierce any armour. But what was extraordinary about the sword lay in its ruby. It was rumored to feast upon the enemy’s blood and with each life it took, it would absorb the defeated man’s aura and spirit. It would become more crimson with each slain man’s blood hence the name of this infamous sword. Judging from the bright vermillion shade refracting from the ruby, this man must have just killed another not too long ago.

Now the man pulled the reins of the horse firmly and subdued it. Reluctantly, the animal submitted to the man’s dominance and stopped trampling. The man gave his horse a reassuring pat, then withdrew the animal to a distance further back. He took one quick look at the hindrance again, and without a second thought, galloped his horse and charged forward. The stallion picked up speed as it raced towards the trunk, and at the last moment, tucked in its forelegs and made a fanatic leap over the wooden log. It was over.

The horse had brilliantly executed what its muscular body seemed capable and was expected of. But the man rode the horse.

He tugged at the reins for the second time now, and again, the horse came to an abrupt halt from its vertically conquering velocity just a moment ago. The man looked at the stone walled tower with a deliberate effort, as if contemplating a way to break into this tall, erect fortress’ interior.

Their eyes met and he smiled. He knew he had found his bride. She grasped the pen she was twirling in her fingers and smiled back. She knew that if anyone was to save her from her perils, it was this beautifully wild man.

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Footnotes and Self Practical Criticism.

This is my crude, virgin attempt at erotic literature. The fantasy genre was inspired by my dear brother although I must admit that I’m not a great fan of fantasy novels. Well, someone thought erotic literature was ‘yucks’, but hey, I kinda think it is actually fun.

As a continuation of my previous post, I think this is the kind of stuff that I enjoy reading…which explains why I chose to write something like this in the first place. Sex, Power, Love, are still represented, but it requires reading between the lines because nothing is explicitly stated. I wrote this with ‘lust’ as a taboo four letter word in mind, but the above is erotic at its roots, concealed with all the devices words could provide.

There is no conclusion or beginning for this story since it starts somewhere from the middle and remains hanging loose till the end. Reason being, I never really wanted to write anything about fantasy heroes and damsels in distress. I merely wanted to write in a hypocritical fashion were you know I’m writing about sex yet I remain non-committed to it.

To begin with, this is a feminist piece of writing. Not because I’m an MCP but for the sake of dealing with the issue of Power. I must state here that this is written partly for fun and partly to illustrate the kind of text I prefer to read. Neither the man nor girl is named because it on a macro level, it is not so much about individuals but rather, about gender.

The man is laced with masculine potency. There is added emphasis on his uncouth beauty such as his wildly passionate lips while there is no mention at all about the girl’s appearance. The intention is to portray the fairer sex not worthy of humanly admiration and appreciation but as objects which remains as entities. ‘But the man rode the horse’ shows his dominance while the girl watches on voyeuristically from her tower of death trap. The horse submits to the man’s firm grip on its reins. If a rough parallel is drawn, would the girl also be subjected to the man’s oppression and control? And, would she be submissive? That, like almost everything else, I shall leave untold.

The feminist aspects are more prominent when the girl is put into scrutiny. Say, this girl is entrapped, she is voiceless, and she is powerless. She can only look out to the world from her own little world of the tower. I have condemned her to become the marginalised ‘Other’.

Perhaps what also were deliberate are the countless phallic motifs. Sexual connotations are rampant and blatantly scattered in the short narrative and these would include the tower, the candlestick holder, the trunk of the fallen tree, the window (as a feminine opening) and the sword. There is a comparatively lengthy description about the sword, and its name and use to ‘break shields’ and ‘pierce armours’ are symbolic representations of sexually suggestive notions. Again, I shall not spell out the places my imagination is running to least everyone should think I am a pervert.

So dear brother Guang, with all said and done, this is the kind of erotic fantasy I was actually hoping for and not the sleazy trash we normally find at some websites. Thanks, but I’m not interested in those. But still, with or without it, I am really looking forward to your stories, because your introduction had been enticing enough.

And oh well, who said erotic fantasy is yucks? I love it.

The Better Life...

I am leading the better life now...don't lose your way.

Much aDo aboUt nothinG...

Aristotle names 3 elements of narration of plot. In Greek, they are hamartia, anagnorisis and peripeteia. Roughly, they translate as ‘tragic flaw’, ‘realisation’ and ‘reversal of fortune’ respectively.

Then along came Valdimir Propp, who studied a hundred Russian fables and fairy tales to compile his own list of the constituents of a narrative plot. The list numbered 31, and as common sensical as they are, they bear significance.

In my one and a half decades of literacy, I think I have probably read a few hundred books and probably studied a small fraction of them in detail. An absolutely average figure, I must say. But based on my limited range and scope, it seems to me that the plot of most of the books I’ve read revolves around only a few common grounds. Apart from educational books, religious books and informative books (such as recipe books or National Geographic or the Analects), books from most genres (be it Gothic, Romance, Tragedy, Horror, Thriller, Fantasy, etc) all appear to be based on Sex, Love, Power, Money or a combination of them.

These are very broad categories and I fear I might be trying too hard to make them all encompassing. It is hard to tie each of the four into any definition. Love, could be brotherly love or puppy love or even love for puppies. Sex could range from faint physical intimacy to the final deed. Power could refer to the power to control a whole nation, another person or just a remote control. And Money perhaps just means anything material.

Let me attempt to crudely truncate the history of English text with the following examples to justify my earlier claim.

1) In Chaucer’s acclaimed Canterbury Tales (Middle English?), there are countless examples of the four elements I’ve named. For example, The Nun’s Priest Tale, the vain cockerel forgets about the impending danger of the sly fox when he copulates with his hens. However subtly it was written, I think there is a hint of how lust can ruin a cockerel……and hence a man likewise.
2) In Shakespeare’s play, Merchant of Venice,(1500-1600s) the plot and theme centralises on how Shylock’s craftiness coupled with his cruel love for money almost causes the life of a fellow man.
3) In Charlotte Bronte’s autobiography, Jane Eyre(Gothic era), the female protagonist falls in love with Mr Rochester and with the element of Love aside, I think there is also a struggle of Power because it is a typically feminist text depicting a battle where each gender tries to dominate the other.
4) In Dicken’s Great Expectations(1800s?), the plot dwells on the life of the main character, Pip, and how he falls in love with Estella and his rise in the social ladder after receiving a sponsored education from a jail inmate.
5) In Ondaatje’s The English Patient(1990s), the plot progresses with narration of two love stories, one in flashback and the other in the present. It is about the past affair of the charred patient and his pitiful bride and the ongoing romance of Kip and a Canadian nurse.
6) In Virginia Andrew’s semi-erotic, semi-cliché novel, Dawn(how appropriately titled), there are vivid scenes of incest, rape and sex. You name it and you have it. If anyone really was reading for the plot, it is actually about two young men fighting for an inheritance…and an even hotter girl to bed.

Somehow I think this could be a universal phenomenon. Let me try to extend the claim to Chinese novels. I believe these elements appear most obviously in Louis Chia’s sword fighting novels. Characters yearn to acquire some deadly martial arts to become the all powerful pugilistic leader.(欧阳峰) Others prefer to go through thick and thin for the sake of love.(黄容and 郭靖) And of course, there are those who scheme and plot for the sake of treasure and wealth.(飞狐外传).

Perhaps an equally fitting example would be the classics such as Romance of the Three Kingdoms where there is a perpetual clash of interest in power hungry warlords. Romance of the Red Chambers would suffice to fulfil the requirements of a book about Love and Sex. And in Water Margins, many a good lad was forced into poverty because others robbed them of their family estate. （九纹龙）

Moving on to the more contemporary Chinese works, there are still instances where the four elements are present. 聊斋志异comes to mind because in its collection of more than a hundred tales of the uncanny, many have plots laid down in Power, Money, Love and especially Sex. Take the story of 小倩for instance. A young scholar meets a mesmerising female ghost and saves her from the crutches of a tree demon. He marries her, she bears two children for him(yes, they had sex) and they lived happily ever after.

I think a more familiar, albeit a more trashy, recent Chinese text would be 突破, a Chinese reading material back at high school. The Power and Money part lies in the characters trying to build up an enterprise and an empire in the business sector. I think I can give the Sex part a quick introduction by just saying someone got gang raped. ‘Nuff said.

And then I realise my post is becoming more and more dry. And more and more like some Lit assignment more than anything else. Initially, I wanted to write about the type of books I enjoy ….Urrrgh. Oh! I get it…doesn’t it make sense that if I claim that books are all about Love, Sex, Power and Money, then the type of books that I enjoy would be about Love, Sex, Power and Money?

Actually that isn’t the case, but I think I’m overdosed on blogging for the night. KIV until next time. Tired.

My Brother, The King.

My Learned Brother.

Through a conversation at lunch the other day, I had an interesting talk with my learned Brother. And boy, did I really learn a lot from this respectable and intelligent person. It did make me realise how ignorant and insolent I’ve been all these while, and pondering on his words has given me new insights.

Brother: Knowledge is not Power. Imagination is. With Imagination, you can change (did he mean ‘take over’?) the world.

Yup…Imagination is the key in this fast paced, globally linked world. Imagination brings about innovation, creativity and invention. Together, these three components would result in change. This may sound a little idealistic and over optimistic, but wouldn’t it be great if we could shape this world into a better place with the changes brought about by our imagination? It suddenly seems like we finally have the power to control the destiny of the world we live in.

And guess what? Imagination is boundless, there is no upper limit as to how far we can stretch our mind to it. The word I had in mind was ‘infinite’. For a start, just some wild ideas here:

1) Having a greenhouse on the roof level of every high rise flat. Or a water collection tank. Then we will have our own veggies and water. It would be a great move to increase our self sufficiency.
2) Developing a machine that would recycle used cigarette butts into something useful. Say, sponge for floral arrangements or for cleaning.
3) A pill that could insolate the liver from the effects of excessive drinking without taking away the high of alcohol consumption.

We need to open the door to Imagination and tap into its limitless resources. First step to world dOmination.

But as seen from my wild little ideas, Imagination is a double edged sword that goes both ways. (1) has social benefits. (2) is a little shady because there is an element of smoking and its negative externalities although it creates a useful good. (3) totally violates moral principles because it is a drug which will mess up the minds of the population. My point is, Imagination may be harmful if not directed in right use.

As a side note, I think Knowledge is still essential. I mean, how do you expect to change the existing world if you do not even know what it is? All the above mentioned ideas, beneficial or otherwise, will remain as ideas, if we do not acquire the technical ‘know-hows’ to drive them into a reality. It remains as a base for Imagination to work upon as a super-structure. Taking us back to (3), if we did not have the medical knowledge that excessive drinking will cause liver problems, I doubt we would push for a new frontier by creating such a pill.

But I digress.

Brother, I think what is most important is neither Knowledge nor Imagination. Nor Power for that matter. What I feel is necessary for change is actually wisdOm. WisdOm is the tool which would empower us with the correct balance of Knowledge and Imagination such that they would be channelled towards positive usage. A person equipped with wisdOm would be able to foresee the social problems that (3) would cause and the following destruction which would ensue. Hence, he pulls the brake when his Imagination starts running wildly in that direction. Jerry Yen calls it ‘sense’ in Meteor Gardens. Whatever it is, I think it is the extra something which would put the world into our hands and allow us to make it a better place. For you and for me. Like the way I thought Jackson was singing about until I figured he was into sweet young boys.

Of course, everyone has a different idea of how the ideal world should be like. Would WisdOm be enough? That is why my dreams of world dOmination remains but a dream. And Brother, that is why your Imagination alone would hardly suffice for any similar dreams.

An Unaccomplished Day...

Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their direct exercise, incapable of his own help and own happiness, sensible of the blight on him, and resigning himself to let it eat him away.
Extract from 'A Tale of Two Cities' Charles Dickens.

I woke up this morning from a weird dream. Actually, I woke up this afternoon at about one thirty. The drinking from the previous night has done crazy things to my mind and body. For the first few times in my life, I felt weak, as if every ounce of strength was slipping from my body. It took me a few minutes before I could muster the energy to crawl out of bed. I think it was the dream that made me weak, but I’ll rather prefer to blame it on the boozing. Here is one of the fragments I recall:

It is one of those dreams which drone a hazy background. I couldn’t make anything of the distant horizon. Er…perhaps the primary focus was in the foreground. And there was a girl. From a first person’s perspective, she is in front of me, at a distance of less than 3 feet. However, her face remains a blurry fuzz, although it is tan and covered with wavy locks to her shoulders. Her figure is decent enough, complete with sizable tits and averagely curved hips. She was wearing a tight black halter top and low waist jeans. She bears no resemblance to anyone I know.

‘You are tempting me’ she says.
And then I draw closer to her, as if going to kiss her. Her face remains undistinguishable all this time. Then I push her away at the very last second before the kiss is delivered. Now I see her eyes…soft Asian eyes now wide open with shock and screaming of betrayal. I gave her a disgusting reply.

‘Yes, I am tempting you.’
With that, I burst out laughing and started kissing her fervently. That second of fear of being toyed with seemed to have heightened her passion. The only question I had for myself right then was: ‘Are you? Or are you not?’
And the dream moved on to another fragment which I cannot remember with as much detail. I find it noteworthy to mention, it wasn’t a liquid dream or even close to it.

I haven’t at this point of time quite thought of how to link the dream with the Dicken’s extract. In fact, I didn’t exactly plan to. I just thought it made quite a fitting description of someone like me. But dream or no dream, tale or no tale, the vacation goes on…even after this semester’s results come out tomorrow.

An Unaccomplished Day...

Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their direct exercise, incapable of his own help and own happiness, sensible of the blight on him, and resigning himself to let it eat him away.
Extract from 'A Tale of Two Cities' Charles Dickens.

I woke up this morning from a weird dream. Actually, I woke up this afternoon at about one thirty. The drinking from the previous night has done crazy things to my mind and body. For the first few times in my life, I felt weak, as if every ounce of strength was slipping from my body. It took me a few minutes before I could muster the energy to crawl out of bed. I think it was the dream that made me weak, but I’ll rather prefer to blame it on the boozing. Here is one of the fragments I recall:

It is one of those dreams which drone a hazy background. I couldn’t make anything of the distant horizon. Er…perhaps the primary focus was in the foreground. And there was a girl. From a first person’s perspective, she is in front of me, at a distance of less than 3 feet. However, her face remains a blurry fuzz, although it is tan and covered with wavy locks to her shoulders. Her figure is decent enough, complete with sizable tits and averagely curved hips. She was wearing a tight black halter top and low waist jeans. She bears no resemblance to anyone I know.

‘You are tempting me’ she says.
And then I draw closer to her, as if going to kiss her. Her face remains undistinguishable all this time. Then I push her away at the very last second before the kiss is delivered. Now I see her eyes…soft Asian eyes now wide open with shock and screaming of betrayal. I gave her a disgusting reply.

‘Yes, I am tempting you.’
With that, I burst out laughing and started kissing her fervently. That second of fear of being toyed with seemed to have heightened her passion. The only question I had for myself right then was: ‘Are you? Or are you not?’
And the dream moved on to another fragment which I cannot remember with as much detail. I find it noteworthy to mention, it wasn’t a liquid dream or even close to it.

I haven’t at this point of time quite thought of how to link the dream with the Dicken’s extract. In fact, I didn’t exactly plan to. I just thought it made quite a fitting description of someone like me. But dream or no dream, tale or no tale, the vacation goes on…even after this semester’s results come out tomorrow.