I had another absurd dream in which I am spying at a dining table from a dank wooden ceiling. I don’t know how I came to be on the ceiling, but I seem to be stuck there ( Infact a lot of my dreams seem to be related to ceilings). An enormous woman is serving chicken soup to two sniveling kids in blue uniforms. The woman is muttering curses and the soup is swirling and churning by itself in the bowls, strange chirping and cooing sounds came from the soup. Sometimes drops of soup formed shapes, became faces and belched loudly before dissolving into steaming liquid. In the background was an unnerving grainy sound like the white noise in the old TV sets. Suddenly my nose started to bleed. A drop of blood trickled down and fell plop right in the middle of the table. I watch with dismal horror as the three faces turn up to look at me. Instead of eyes I saw three pairs of hollow sockets through with appalling screams where echoing and filling the room. The faces shrunk around the eye sockets until all that was left were three lumps of flesh, each with a pair of dark chasms which emitted soulless shrieks.
I had a vaguely irritating sensation of being a displaced and slightly awkward Spiderman. I was definitely in the wrong movie, my hands were stuck, my mask was itching and before I could ponder further on the gender identity crisis which I’ll have to face if this is the state of things, I woke up and fell off the bed onto the suitcase below. It was raining outside; I suppose it was the sound of the rain which I heard as the white noise in my dream.
There is nothing to be done, I cant go back to sleep. I search my bag for fags, but the last one was soaked in yesterday’s rain so I had no choice but to throw it away and mutter some newly-learnt profanities at my snoring room-mate. It’s during times like this, when you wake up for no reason and cannot go back to sleep, that you are plagued by utterly gloomy thoughts that you have to forcefully stuff back into your head before it shrouds and suffocates you. I huddle in my blanket and watch the rain until daylight trickled in.
Hours later I go up to the dining hall to get my quota of food and a cup of watery coffee which comprises my breakfast. The pea stew was full of overcooked squashed peas bobbing on the surface like sludgy bubbles that appear on a swamp after someone had been sucked down.
I stared with my aching, blood-shot eyes at the soup. The peas and the onions floated about sometimes they looked like faces of goblins full of warts. I gave the stew a swirl with a spoon and the faces contorted, grinned, frowned and dissolved. I had an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. The rain lashed the walls, leaked in through the roof while I stuffed in the pieces of bread soaked in stew into my reluctant mouth and forced it down with sips of coffee. Somebody giggled seeing my stuffed, puffed up cheeks while I struggle to chew. I imagined their horror if I just choked and died on this piece of bread right now. But it wasn’t worth the effort. Later, while I was in the bus stuck between drenched bodies, I felt like laughing for no reason. Water slapped around our ankles and as the bus dragged on we staggered and rolled like a bundle of dead pythons in a suitcase.
Switched on system-wrote article-checked face book-article-facebook-banana chips-facebook-article-chips-facebook-dream-drink water-get depressed-watch rain-article-bite nails-article-facebook-talk with colleagues-think of names for a pet cat that I might get in future-bite nails-article-facebook-cough-article.
In the afternoon I dismantled the paper punch, collected the tiny round paper bits and dropped them down from the terrace. They fluttered down the moist air like fragments of baby dreams falling softly over an infant’s sleeping head. A sense of vertigo, the wet ground far below seem to be lurching and tilting. Pavements opened to reveal hidden hollows and terrible voices that can never occupy a body. I turn quickly, probably a little too quickly, causing a crick on my neck. After muttering another stream of expletives I walk down to my cubicle. Suddenly the 3.00 deadline which had earlier resembled a negligible little dung beetle now assumed the proportions of a rabid tyrannosaurus. Nursing the crick I settled down to finish the task. It’s Thursday anyway, two more days to go and then it’s –sigh – Sunday!