I was standing at this dark place. The ground was muddy and I could feel the dirty slimy mud grabbing both my feet. My feet had this warm but disturbingly gluey feelings creeping all over up to my knees. But most of the time, I just stood there motionless because the place was too dark for me to see around. The surrounding environment was wet and humid, the same feelings I often had whenever I played a one-on-one basketball match with my brothers. I love the feelings of warm sweats pouring down my forehead to my chin but I also hate it whenever mosquitoes started to suck my blood out, especially around the thigh area. I had no idea why in the world mosquitoes love to bite there. I guess my thigh was like the drumsticks that customers normally pick at McDonald.
As bizarre as it went, the place I set my foot on was very familiar to my home place. The ground, the scent, the environment, the feelings. But it was too dark. Let me stress that out a bit more. It was filled with complete darkness and empty blackness. Not only that, there was no sound. No traffic cars honing, no neighbors shouting to their own partners everyday at 5 in the afternoon after work hours, no basketball bouncing at the front yard, no musics, no Indian selling garments, no joggers repeating his 30th round in front of my gate, no nothing. I mean nothing. There was zero sound; anti-noise.
British tourists would dream on having this kind of place since this place I had in my dream was too great to be true. I mean, who wouldn’t like to relax at a place where both your legs plunged knee deep into a muddy ground and the surrounding area was completely soundless. Your ears felt appreciated because you were kind to those pairs of eavesdropping organs.
Whenever I stood in that middle of nowhere, I was shrouded with this confusing thoughts running and bouncing in my head by repeating this same question again and again, “where exactly am I?…where exactly am I?…where exactly am I? WHERE EXACTLY AM I?”….The voice inside my head got louder and louder every second. I was afraid that my brain couldn’t handle it and I might die in my own sleep.
YES! Most of the time, I realized that I was actually in a dream. I knew it because I had this kind of dream almost every week.
I think, maybe in some supernatural context, I am actually talking to my own unconscious mind whenever I’m dreaming this place. Maybe this dream shows me in an indirect fashion that I shouldn’t be alone by myself in my room throughout the sunny day in Brunei. I should have spent my time, bonding with my siblings in the afternoon after school and listening to my parents in the evening when they are resting their heads, burying their faces under newspapers and computer screens. I should have talked to my parents and asked how their days went. Also, I should have interacted with my friends to improve my social skills and to really have a good time with them instead of having to ask about their life via Facebook inbox. But most of the time, I don’t have the time to really make an appointment with them, asking them to hang out with me. I know I’m a loner as I love to be alone. I realize that and I know my own weaknesses. Yet I keep on doing it over and over again.
So the only way to erase this dream I’ve had more than once once and fore all is to mingle with people who cares for me and love me. But on a second thought, what if I never had this kind of dream again in the future if I start on applying good social life with the society. What if once I started doing that, I would be dreaming on something creepier than I used to, like killing my friends in my dream? What if I never get to feel that warm muddy feelings around my feet again? What if I would never had that complete solidarity and quietness in my mind ever again?
What if that dream I had more than once is the only place where I can speak freely with my own self….happily.