Have you ever wonder…..?

We all do.

The what-ifs.

But we always gave up the what-ifs because of the fear of the perfect pictures we painted for what-ifs are ruthlessly sabotaged by the reality.

Like how I always say… I was the kid who took a black crayon to a decent picture I had drawn, coat it over furiously, because what came from me would never be good enough.

Well, with the exception of Minibean, just because she is exceptional, of course.

Paint it black.

We always dwell in what didn’t, but what we thought would potentially take place, because that is a picture that is not tainted by time, emotions, and the ugly sides of people.

Sometimes out of fear, we didn’t allow things to take place, as we get wash along by circumstances and then, we settle down at the riverbed of resignation.

Still, we get curious.

We bury that curiosity with excuses, denials and reasonings we try hard to sell ourselves, sometimes waiting for a massive wave to come along to sweep us off the stagnancy. But are you stupid or what, we are not in the ocean now, are we?

There are fears, massive fears, as sometimes we take a step out of our comfort zones unexpectedly. I should know as this is the year I have done plenty of that.

Then there were times I get hypocritical. When someone like me who preaches you only live once, the fear always pushes me back into a state of cowardice despite all the curiosity that is killing me because I am a wuss that way.

Tsk.

Sometimes I wonder. And then I wonder how do I stop myself from wondering.

A girl gotta do what a girl gotta do, I suppose.

I don’t make any sense to you? Awesome. That’s exactly how it should be.

It’s the time of the year again. My favourite time of the year.

This year, the year-end season thrills me like it hadn’t for the past years.

I feel… dare I say it (for the fear of jinxing it, obviously!), hopeful.

Something feels different. Something has changed.

So much so that when I used to jot down everything on this space to mark the significance each episodes I had in my life, that I realise the most significant and life-changing couple of years had failed to make much of its mark here.

I felt a spur of impulse in me recently to try to catch up with whatever I can, before my handicapped memory bank sifts out the important elements and let everything fades away.. then I get overwhelmed by the 1001 things I want to get through with before I allow myself to calm my thoughts… and start.

I think.. I have a better idea of what I want in life after my recent trips away.

I can perhaps point out the exact moments the revelation hits me, but life has its funny way of pulling you back to the usual momentum you are used to and trap you in it.

And then this time, I realise how much I refuse to settle.

It may sound totally irrelevant, but few days back I was bantering with a sales person good-heartedly because.. well, I used to really resent pushy sales people because I can’t find it within me to say no to them and I feel terribly awkward to be stuck in that situation, and to let them know how turn-off it is.

I don’t know what came over me but I actually went into a cheeky negotiation with her and managed to get my magical “NO” across in a way that I know she bore no hard feelings to me at the end of it.

In the end, she and her colleagues asked me if I would like to join them. Point is.. it was one of the rare times I said no successfully, and walked away leaving no residue of ill feelings on both ends.

It felt.. well, fucking good.

I got back from my recent Europe trip doing things I hadn’t done in a long time, enjoying plenty of alone time before Minibean got back from her Israel trip, and when she did return, we had lotsa alone time together, and I miss all these private moments and catching up on her growth (oh man, I will have the gems she spewed forth cast in stone soon!) which slipped me by over the course of starting my new job and diving straight into the peak period before I could even get used to the momentum.

Of course, doubts do set in ever so often here and there because, c’mon, an overthinker like me to stop doing so completely? Nah-uh. Not happening.

I will say the past few months, I have met people, been to places, seen things, learnt things that are of such minute importance but yet, are probably the precise triggers to what could potentially change my life.

The goods. And the bads.

I came back trying to fix things. Things I was too fearful to fix. But then if not now, when? Earlier this year, I got inferior about my age.

Yes, turning thirty is incredibly, crazily, fucking, scary. And then when 31 is looming, you suddenly realise how fabulous this can really get.

Especially when I get carded over the counter just a week ago. Cheyenne was standing next to me as I bit my lips tight and dug deep into my wallet. She asked what I was looking for. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I was holding it ALLLLLLL INNNNN.

When she asked again, I burst out laughing and giggling (totally unglamourous and uncool I swear!).

Gone were the days that you get cheap thrills out of getting in to clubs with your doctored student ID (back when laminated hand-written ISIC was used, gee!), and now you get cheap thrills when you get your ID checks.

So back to getting things done.

Some things will take a bit longer for me to do so, but I made a mental note that I will try to do it, because I need to get over that fucking fear of failure.

I came back and chucked so much of the things I used to hoard, and the secondary school textbooks are finally gone.

I brought Minibean to IKEA, and I did some major spring cleaning which I believe is only 30% done.

All the books are now onto the shelves, though from the looks of it I might need a decent, bigger book shelves, or hold a garage sale sometimes soon. Then again, I am not sure my shallow reading list (Twilight trilogy, anyone?) would make me a few quids.

I need to write.

As in, I know on and off I do, random stuff these days, but then I don’t have to admit and everyone can see how little I am offering on this space these days, and I mean, about myself.

I miss the days when my soul can be stripped bare here. I miss the days when I can be unabashedly shameless and candid and not be judged for it. But then with a life as bland as mine… how is that even possible..

Then again. I started to dream recently. And the dreams I indulge in, may just be what I need. A fantasy world we crave so our realities get more bearable.

Now, the next project might just be getting Minibean her own room. I wanna hand paint something for her.

I wanna pick up a skill or 2. I used to tell myself I was too old to do so. Hey, not now, then what? When I am fucking forty?

Hell no.

And I wanna dig deep into the recesses of my memory.

For I have 2 years of space I need to make up for here.

Hopefully, today is a start, and not just another burst of enthusiasm that would be dampened by procrastination or fear in time to come.

Don’t you just love December?

Of hope. Of love. Of change.

It is one of those days where words fail me.

I wish I could put into words every minute details of the thoughts I have in me I have these days, but they pass me by so swiftly that I can’t even hold on to them.

Either that, or they are buried intentionally at the back of my head, so I do not have to over-analyse, over-think, because… I simply don’t have the privilege to do so anymore.

We all need a lil space, a lil room to run away to, to hide from the big, bad world, to sort out the real us before it can deal with the real world out there.

That needs plenty of courage… or denial. I don’t have much of the former, so I hold on to the latter with my dear life.

Someday, I might find the honesty that has eluded this space for the longest time, or maybe I have reached the age that social responsibility triumphs it all.

Someday, maybe, someday.

On another note, I might finally get down to write about Shanghai trip. Too eventful to miss.

Or maybe the beautiful V-Lynn’s wedding.

Before I get overwhelmed by the work, endless trips to Changi Airport at obscene hours, or when the next exciting thing comes up, say the leather and lace pole party this weekend. WOOHOOO!

I want a holiday.

I want a holiday.

I want a holiday.

I want a holiday.

Uhm, be careful what I wish for?

FINALLY, the little project I am currently involved in is wrapped up, somewhat, and it has been quite an eye-opener for the past week half or so, and with Mum back in Singapore to help out with Minibean, I think the time I yearn for to spend more time on pole, blog, live and breathe is finally within grasps….. if I don’t end up succumbing to making up for lost sleep.

But I think besides being busy, I have been poisoned deep deep, which explains why I am once again distracted from this space.

You see, I can’t quite explain how and why, but I am deeply, hopelessly, infatuated, something I uh, haven’t experienced for a while, and I feel a huge bout of guilt feeling this way and having a bloody crush at the grand, glorious age of the big three zero.

I mature blogger already okay, not I brand myself one, ahem. HAHAHA, so got more oomph to it.

Anyway. I am not sure if some people who knew me years before remember the super blinky, docile, less vulgar and super.. uhm, teyh me I used to be (Sassyjan, you reading this?!).

KNN (must man up myself and not let myself slip back into that rut!!),  I am allowing myself spiralling back into that dreamy character I had somewhat promised myself not to be anymore, and the excessive use of mandarin and getting that gigglish, blushing within 5 seconds, heart goes pik pok pik pok until wanna die feeling back is…. EMBARRASSING!

I can’t wait to wean this period off.

I mean this is not like those I always say my heart goes pik pok pik pok and the various hot men I always raved about in this space of mine.

Last time I will always say how much I feel the heat under my youknowwhere collar, how I wanna rip some guys apart blarblarblar.

This one. I tell you. Different.

I actually think I don’t wanna do him. Wait, I don’t mean THAT exactly, cos obviously I so want him to do me, okay, not THAT way either, ai yah don’t know how to explain. But, I actually think to myself, I want him to make love (eeeee me blushing hehehehehe) to me and I say it in the shyest, most innocent and gigglish way. Somemore I make belief I am a virgin in this alternate reality.

Of course no one could ever get away looking not an ounce of a slut making a statement like that, and especially not me.

But really lah, I want him to marry me hehehehe.

BUT, really lah, I feel like those school days crush again and I find myself behaving like I am some dreamy Taiwanese idol drama (must say idol drama or else people think is the auntie show kind, which I must say I don’t watch. Oh I just remembered the TV was playing the auntie drama and then Minibean was the one who channeled surfed and gave up watching Okto to watch it intently and was caught doing so. When asked who was watching it, she actually looked sheepish as if knowing how embarrassing it is to be caught doing so, and she pointed her finger in my direction and said, “Not me! Mummy lah!”)  female lead.

Someone should just club me on the head. I even feel the need to sit demurely and I don’t even realise it until I noticed what I was actually doing.

I was telling this to Eunice, and HALLELUJAHHHHHHHHHHHHH! She actually said she knows EXACTLY what I mean and didn’t judge me for it even though she was laughing at me for going through the phase, so at least there will be ONE person on this earth who doesn’t think I am a lunatic.

I am trying to shake off this persona and I am even speaking mandarin to people who don’t speak mandarin, and despite how tired I was yesterday, I realised I was actually working those eyelid muscles with excessive battings and maximum support to get those eyes opened wide.

And then I feel the fluff around me, and in my dreaminess, I feel every injustice on the road was actually justified and I couldn’t find it within me to fault those nasty drivers like I usually do. I mean I still do, but instead of KNN Chaoooooo.. I go… Hmphf! Why you like that one?! How caaannnn?

What is the bloody wrong with me?

You know suddenly everything looks so hopeful, cheery, framed by cotton candy, all fluff and sweet.

Give me a piece of paper and I might start writing names and smiling to myself and count the strokes to the names or insert-any-silly-stupid-things-you-did-back-then to see the “compatibility”.

HELLO WAKE UP! You are auntie already, no more shao nv, can?!

To think I never ever get hooked on any overseas celebrity or find myself lured into those silly overseas drama, and now…. look at me. TSK.

Sorry excuse me while I go tease my hair with my finger, look shy and all and wean this embarrassing phase away before I come back with my ragey self.

Is it weird of me to uhm, feel so roused by seeing him making out and kissing another man? I am so twisted I tell you, that I feel weirded out by myself too.

*Gives dreamy sigh*

In life you meet some people, you feel unbridled cos there’s a sense of security knowing their worlds run parallel to yours.

You create possibilities with no hope of materializing them, so that you always stay grounded in your reality, one that you can’t escape, but can righteously take a break from when they fluff up your world so you can reach for the sky without fear of falling, like you are on a bouncy castle.

Even if for a while.

They come in different entities, and yes, they are the strangers in your life.

That old lady whom you helped across the road who said you have a good heart when nobody else ever notices. The billionaire who looked at you adoringly and mumbled how he wishes his daughter will grow up to be like you when your own parents rejected you. The young chap who exclaimed that you look fresh out of school when your grandchild’s birth isn’t too far away. The lady with the expensive Louis Vuitton bag passing you a pack of tissue, with her hand on your shoulder to tell you results aren’t everything when you are crying at a bus-stop, who reminded you someone still care.

Because they don’t see your flaws, you are flawless to them.

And then, there are the men. The men who rain praises, who look so smitten, who are not in their realities like you aren’t in yours. You fantasize about your charms, you are made to believe you are so gorgeous and possibly hottest piece of ass around.. until the flaws appear in the form of roving eyes when the next piece of hot ass strut across the both of ya.

But strangers are beautiful. The don’t have glaring flaws unless the reason you stop to look at them, is a negative one, like say, the distracting mole on the nose you had thought to be a fly who had decided to make an inconsiderate landing.

More than once, I found myself hopelessly dwelling on the possibilities of some of the strangers in my life.

Because, it seems so safe, and it comes free of charge and most important liberated of any responsibilities.

Much like directing and producing a personal movie of romance (if he is hot), of violence (if he/she irks me in real life with grave misdeed like kicking an animal or one of my bags, and I would like to swing a bat to his/her face), of hope (if he/she looks kind, maybe he/she is the hope of mankind!), of porn (if he is too hot).

There were some strangers who lingered.. because the scripts and mental movies I came up with were so Oscar worthy, that they probably seared into my memories deeper than they should have.

It is safe. It is like an infatuation with, say, Chuck Bass. He doesn’t exist. Even if he does in the form of Ed Westwick, I am too much of a cougar for him to bed, so there is no need to cross the line.

Then there are those who thread on dangerous grounds. They exist in real life, and a chanced flirting which you walked away unscathed. You barely held on to your self-control, but you did. The thrill was something like walking the edge to the cliff and you retreated and ran back to safety, laughing.

You get complacent when the worlds tore far apart from the encounter, and despite the “what if”, you laugh it off because that was just supposed to be what it is and it is time to get back to the reality with a slight smirk you carry with the memory.

I once met a man. So long ago.

As I walked along a narrow corridor to the washroom, and he was just coming out. We sprung to opposite side of the walls, extremely courteous to make way for the other, while challenging each other to hold the gazes. Come to think of it, it may well be a defensive position we were taking and not one spurred by basic manners.

Obviously there was an attraction.

Incredibly intelligent, piercing eyes, quiet charms, gentlemanly, overshadowed by his friends’ over zealous humour.

Utterly sexy when he threw me a look of concern while maintaining that cockiness in his demeanor with my slightest clearing of throat or discomfort from a cough ever so subtly, it was as if my whole being was willing myself to peacock my best behaved self and muster whatever charms I could manage.

Got watch Armageddon before or not? Remember the scene of the animal biscuits? I tell you what is a sexier version of it.

To have someone tracing his fingers on you, say, up your arms, collar bones, neck, shoulders, back, and rattling off medical names of them, AND NOT being sleazy about it at the same time.

Sorry, I think I just have a mental orgasm there trying to think if it was other parts. -cough… *slut* cough-

Get talking, he knows only what you wanna share, and you know only what he wanna share.

Then you are back to your worlds, both knowing full well it was to go nowhere and you know you guys will never see each other again.

Say, this happened in Spain. A meeting between 2 strangers whose worlds are so far apart and created a temporary world just for the 2 of them to co-exist at the same time.

In that world, rainbows are edible, and so are their lips and so one of the most amazing kisses like those you see in movies happened.

Both of them will then walk away, setting arson to the temporary world and not leave any traces behind.

Perfect strangers there.

You know what? However faraway and unlikely it is, these people have a way of creeping too near to your reality in the most unexpected ways. And they don’t even know about it. Neither do you, until some greater power decides to show you the irony to mock at you in your face.

Such sadistic humor.

It is hard to turn a blind eye to the word ‘curse’, which is also more commonly romanticised as the word fate.

So. I have in mind my perfect stranger.

It is not a denial, but it is more of a little bad habit of trespassing the boundaries of reality and you are just too aware of it and you can snap out of it with precise control.

For a long time, he was my perfect stranger.

Someone I didn’t need to know much about after a chance encounter, but he charmed me enough for me to think a lot about him.

I thought about him recently.

Strange things happen when you mind power goes into overdrive.

So it was a nice Tuesday morning so I was pretty much surfing a friend’s page, as she had recently got engaged.

Quite amusingly, she is a common friend of this chap I knew from a friend in Zouk, who is an Oxford graduate when I actually knew her at a wedding of my primary school mate.

They knew each other overseas.

Then. I saw she is also a friend of a cousin who is also someone she knew overseas. Oh gee. What are the chances.

Cos by right, these 3 common friends aren’t supposed to cross paths, you see. To me these 3 friends belong to 3 different universes. But gee, that’s the funny thing about facebook, you find out how small the worlds are, and got common friends, not too uncommon actually. But gee, overseas..? Kinda freaking me out.

So I then saw this little cube of picture and working on a hunch, I clicked on it.

I. So. Shouldn’t. Have.

I swear I nearly forgot to let out of the breath I held for the longest time.

It was Mr Perfect Stranger.

He doesn’t belong to this world. He is a ghost of the past. He shouldn’t be THIS near to my reality.

It was a picture of him, his wife and his 2 kiddos. One who looks amazingly like Minibean.

I have a confession, I have an inner stalker. Not that you already don’t know.

To my utmost horror, the wife is a close friend of this friend of mine. I counted the timeline (taken into consideration of the age of the child), and the perfect stranger became so horribly imperfect when I realised… well, he probably was married/engaged when I met him. I remember he said he wasn’t even attached (this happened when I had more morals was less prone to mistakes haha) when I asked.

But oh yah, I was the perfect stranger so I didn’t have to know the truth.

And then my movies was glaringly a fiction rather than a what could have been. Okay, hard to explain, but it was like the beautiful soundtrack was halted abruptly and abrasively.

To make the world even smaller, apparently, he had married a Singaporean. Seriously?!

And there were 2 more funnier, mocking coincidences. But seeing how small the world really is, I am apprehensive of stating the obvious. But the irony made me burst out laughing.

But I was too amused with how the world works, and the mechanics behind all these… despite everything, the real him is more than what he had portrayed during our meeting, and oh boy how much he had downplayed himself.

The thing about the stranger became a stranger too near for comfort, you start to think about scripts, a horror story script. What is the horror, you draw the conclusion yourself.

And then there is also this slight jolt to wake you and you draw parallels of his real world to yours, and realised how you can be the perfect stranger to someone, but will probably die a horrible death of being that flawed, perfectly imperfect nobody in his real life, cos you can never be enough for someone who is so much more.

The imperfect stranger has the perfect life, and the perfect stranger here, is as imperfect as it can be.

Was just doing some random, meaningless recap.

I realise how I am trying to stick close to how I used to write, just randomly and a journal of each day, however mundane. It is not the most interesting way, but somehow I realise how my impeccable memory is receding, and I do have troubles thinking what I did, even say, 3 days ago.

I think there is a part of me repressing my cursed memories, which has in turn driven me to the other extreme. I really can forget things very easily until something triggers the recesses of it all.

It is yet another curse. I wish I remember more, because there are so many things of Minibean I really do not wish to forget.

And I realise however bad or good some memories are, there is a part of me that doesn’t really want to forget.

I thought a lot about the people from the past. I remember dozing off with lotsa snippets from my past on Saturday night after closing my eyes halfway through “The Other Guys” in bed.

I thought of the doctors from UCL. I thought of flirty editor sticking his tongue down my throat. I thought of the first kiss chap whom I met up years after and we had spent a long night chatting in his eatery after it was closed when it was near Christmas. I thought of him who claimed he left without a word and a life behind because of me and felt a pang of sadness. I thought of Mr KG who walked out of my life after more than a decade of… something. I thought of the ex. I thought of CBB and how he never got his ways (and thought of the scenarios if he had) and I went to sleep with quite a coy smile, I believe. And perhaps some others.

I think it was during moments of me flitting in and out of semi consciousness and deep slumber when all these memories played out.

And then there are the kisses. Bad kissers are such turn offs and I am glad to say I had pretty amazing experiences but why in the world did my mind fast forwarded all the boys I had locked lips with on Saturday night (fine, it was theoretically early Sunday morning) and reliving some of those moments?!

The mind is a very powerful tool, I am not kidding when I say I had put faces and names to the not-so-impressive ones or those who I no longer think of in THAT sense BUT had automatically filtered those who had made an emotional impression by replaying the scenarios of the kisses.

All of such when I was semi-conscious.

I thought a lot of the passionate kisses, not the kind that are continuous, annoying repetitive pecks that people try to pass off as kisses (you woodpecker ah?!), but when the guy really zoomed straight in for the lips, and locked his to yours and everything fits perfectly. Appropriate amount of suction that set the momentum going (it is not called sucking faces for nothing!), controlled suddenness (I have yet to sleep, strange descriptions might occur) that showed his urge but not clumsy enough for you to worry he might knock your front teeth off. Coupled with sensitivity and gentleness and alternate that with strength to show control. AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, DID NOT STICK HIS TONGUE INTO YOUR MOUTH THE MOMENT HIS MOUTH TOUCHES YOURS.

Tsk, tongue does not equate to french kissing, and tongue should always be used sparingly to tease, not to probe/prod. Don’t even think about thrusting it into the mouth and warble it all around.

Rhythm and momentum always have to be worked on. Or else if everything becomes like routine and predictable, we would rather use our mouths to blow… our manicure dry.

And yes, that applies to sex too.

The funny observation is that… the less experienced ones turn out to be the better ones. My first kiss was… surprisingly one of the best and he was a nerd!! I mean I was all prepared for the worst when he leaned in but I remember thinking to myself I had grossly underestimated him. He did everything right (you see, for many years I buried the memories because there was a period of my life, for good decade, I cringed at the memory, cos I got freaked out when I realised how great a deal losing my first kiss was to me that we didn’t remain friends after that until many years later), from the correct moment (under the blanket with his brother and another around in the room during one of those sleepovers), to the gentle cupping of the face and the slight tilt of the head, and the varied paces, and the teasing tongue to… “teeth cleaning” (which I was made aware when someone experienced asked me if my first kiss in her ways -cleaned my teeth- and she was visibly impressed when I said he did and she passed his first attempt on that account)… FROM A NERD LEH!!! I think it is because they put more thoughts into it and not just take it for granted.

Intensity, ya know?

If you are clueless to what I am saying, please go watch those romantic comedies when the male leads kissed the female leads are stifling the urge for damn long. Like Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds in The Proposal. Le sigh *hand on chest*

Or like when Gary Neville kissing Paul Scholes on the pitch.

I think it kinda worked like shock paddles, and I went to sleep feeling the sparks, the thrills, the flutters, and very much alive.

I woke up realise, I was just fascinated with the could-have-beens, and lost interest with what-had-beens. The exes never made it to the playbacks, as if my sub-conscious had a will of its own and had sentenced me a commitment phobe.

I think my body was feeding off some kind of high there which I am lusting after.

Oh and did I mention those stolen kisses? Those that made you blush? Not those that are forced upon you obviously, they are another story altogether.

I think I am biased, I feel puckered passionate kisses  are never as good as those lips relaxed and slightly parted kind.

Example above: Pucked passionate kiss

As compared to:

So much sexier right?!

Not sure you can see the difference but I can never quite feel convinced in the movies if I see the first example but would feel all the sizzles if I see the latter ones.

*Shudders in delight*

Okay, I shall rein the hormones in and not let them get in the way.

Sometimes, memories are enough, only for a while.

Falling Slowly

I don’t know you
But I want you
All the more for that
Words fall through me
And always fool me
And I can’t react
And games that never amount
To more than they’re meant
Will play themselves out

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We’ve still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice
You’ve made it now

Falling slowly, eyes that know me
And I can’t go back
Moods that take me and erase me
And I’m painted black
You have suffered enough
And warred with yourself
It’s time that you won

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We’ve still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you had a choice
You’ve made it now

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We’ve still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you had a choice
You’ve made it now
Falling slowly sing your melody
I’ll sing along

I used to think what are some of the things I will really, really wanna do before my skin sags to the floor, and set out to strike them off the list. The list of things-to-do is not exactly lean, and thankfully, I am not too greedy and those that I don’t feel as strongly for, there is no urge in me to fulfil it.

Say, example, Japan. I don’t mind not visiting Japan, ever in my life. Someday maybe, but just not yet to be on the list.

Thankfully, being pushed out of my comfort zone, meant I have struck off some of those things from the list from the past couple of years… and I take some form of comfort from there.

I was wondering what I could possible do more.

And then I decided to explore the list of “Things I would never have the balls to do” and things “I will never consider or imagine myself doing”.

To complete the wants in my life is good, but it is overcoming the reluctance in my life that is going to be challenging, and brings on even more gratification, methinks.

And when I say “reluctance” it is more about like overcoming my vertigo, maybe someday take on my fear for public speaking and do a play or something…

… Just don’t expect me to don Chelsea or Liverpool gear and try out a relationship with the clubs. I am not cheap in that way.

The past week had been a clash of timing for me to really get into the swing of giving this space of mine a little CPR.

Even though I had plans to do so today, a terrible bout of cramp and migraine had imprisoned me in my bed, curled up like a shrimp, and hardly able to sit up.

I switched 1001 positions just to get a little bit more comfortable, but all I gotten out of them, were endless weird dreams after another.

But honestly, I wouldn’t say it was all bad, because, honestly, this was perhaps one of those dreams that.. played with my senses to the extent that, hey, I really wouldn’t mind existing in that world and make it my real world, however warped that sounds.

I think the human senses are mightily amazing. And the mind, is nothing short of devastatingly powerful.

I have come to the end of my hormones-tormented phase today, though it had eased off the emotional part, it didn’t ease on the physical part.

As I rolled around in bed and dozing off, I slipped into quite an amazing dream. Quite exhausting, I might add.

Much of the bits and pieces of it are pretty hazy, but I remember waking up from it because it was getting too much for me, yet when I slipped back to unconsciousness, the dream seemed to take a life of its own, and ended up continuing itself.

I think I was one of ‘em vampires in the Twilight-inspired dream. Albeit a localized version one.

I remember some usual faces of people around my life, and we were in track pants and all, hanging out.

In buildings that are perhaps those you find in US, or just unfortunately, in my imagination. Lotsa concrete building, and a sports hall.

And I remember “discovering” my gift for my speed, agility, and ability to look up a tall building, my speed would be enough to bring me up there, not unlike flying.

So yes, it was like Twilight plus Heroes, plus a tinge of Superman.

Some one was staring at me, and as I was worried about my cover being blown (it is a dangerous world out there you know?), I was apprehensive of trying.

Yet, the someone came over and taught me how to, before I realised, he too, was “one of us“, and from the look of his, it is truly a lonely world out there.

And then I managed to “fly” up the building as I tried hard to focus.

Okay, here comes the amazing part of the dream.

In the dream, I remember wondering what if I failed, but I did take off, and I was assured that nothing will happen except plenty of embarrassment, since I can’t possibly, uhm, die (in the dream, that is).

So I tried looking up the building.

And I remember that feeling very well.

You know how when you take roller coaster rides and how gravity-defying it felt?

I felt that vividly in my dream. I could feel the quickened breath, the drop of the heart (okay, fine, I know vampires heart don’t work anymore, but duh), and the wind in my hair, and that split second, I was up on the building despite my fear of heights.

I then realised I need to train to get used to my new skills and to control it.

And then from then, I started hanging out with my “group”.

I remember there was this another instance, though I was in the dream, I got hungry. And I was lamenting how sad it was cos the food I usually take no longer appeal to me.

AND THEN! Even though it was in the dream, I suddenly smelled something irresistible, and made me incredibly hungry.

Then a group of men walked by.

I held my breath, then I tried to take a strong breath in just to decipher what was that delicious, sweet smile was. I was trying to make sense of new things that appealed to my senses, and those that no longer trigger my senses.

I didn’t do anything to them cos the thought repulsed me, though some of the others of my kind ran away cos the temptation was too great.

Then there was this part some guys were trying to find trouble with us, and fight us. And having someone with bad temper in the group, we had to do all we can to control him so he does not do a “Jasper” ala New Moon.

Think one of the guy accidentally touched me, and he had a rude shock when I didn’t feel like human, and I just turned around to shoot him a stern stare before walking away.

There are many other bits I don’t remember but I remember trying to hide away from someone hostile, and I ended up doing the running onto top of the building thing again.

But cos I was so fast, no one quite saw me, and again, I felt the flying feeling in my dream.

I think my obsession with Twilight vampires had reached a whole new level, but it was the most fun dream I ever had, though I probably was annoyed with feeling the suppression of appetite throughout my dream.

And I woke up at least 5 times in between, but it just went on and on and on.

It was those dreams that felt incredibly real, and you feel as though you had really lived it.

***

And yes, it was just a dream.

***

I think the groove is back, and so be ready for the tirade of posts to come.

And the new things that will kick start a very exciting year, I believe.

And with the new opportunities knocking, I am apprehensive, but looking forward.

Life is about experiencing, and year 2010, will be one about experiences