Bad Fucking Juju

4 08 2012

Dreams are successions of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations that occur involuntarily in the mind during certain stages of sleep. 

My brain lately’s been in fucking mess so let’s not talk about my dreams. You wouldn’t want to hear it. My brother woke up this morning, came to my desk, took a seat in front of me and literally just sat there quietly. I knew he was there but I was arranging schedules on my laptop and wasn’t in much of a chatty mood. After about 5 whole minutes of him just being there, I began to worry. If you know my brother, you’ll know this person cannot shut up. Like he has a lot of opinions on a lot of things and he’s also an amazing story teller as well. So he talks, a lot. He’s that type of guy you don’t have to worry about when hanging out because there will always be something to talk about. But as he just basically stared into space quietly, I knew something was up. I asked him if he was okay and he replies “You didn’t read my whatsapp did you?” My phone’s been a major motherfucker these days and I couldn’t really give 2 fucks about it. If someone really needed me, they’d know to call. So anyways, he told me he had a dream that I got shot. Whoopie. There had been a squabble under our block during one of our “horror nights” and we were so kaypoh kia of Singaporeans that we decided to go downstairs and investigate. This behaviour is not foreign for both of us. Something big happens, we’re running to it. Yes, we’re both 40+ kaypoh aunties. So yeah, the dudes downstairs went berserk and started to open fire with their guns on auto mode. We were separated, hiding behind 2 different walls, about 10 feet from each other. My brother kept calling out to me to make sure I was okay. He did it 3 times and 2 out of 3, I responded back. When he told me this, I got chills. Haha. He said it was so vivid and it actually felt the panic when I went quiet. He went to check on me and I was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Apparently they only got me at the neck and although bleeding profusely, I was able to get up and walk back up to out house. Right….

Pretty scary when someone tells me they have had dreams about me. It’s usually never good. Like a month ago, my bestfriend Sya dreamt we were somewhere in Indonesia, looking at a house. Apparently I wondered off somewhere (again, this is not foreign behaviour) and  Sya panicked and went looking for me. When she found me, she said I looked souless. Like I was alive and there but I looked like the life had been sucked right out of me.

Now we go back, just a little further out, a few months ago. My cousin calls me up and tells me she dreamt of me. I’m like okay, random much. We haven’t spoken or met for so long but yeah, there I was. She dreamt she attended my funeral.

So having been shot, soulless and dead basically is not too far fetched from what I am actually. Dreams are never literal but my whole life revolves around irony. No event, no matter how small, is ever insignificant. There is always a link and not always are they attached to a reasonable or sane explanation. When I feel like something bad’s going to happen, it usually does. When I say shit like “what are the chances that that shit could happen to me right now?”, it usually happens.

This shit fucking blows. I need to stop getting my ass kicked in people’s dreams. It’s bad fucking juju.

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