And I had this funny dream and all

DID YOUR MOTHER EVER tell you about the “forbidden hours” to sleep? That if you insist to sleep at those hours you’ll have funny dreams that will definitely drive you yellow and all, and you’ll feel suffocate in your sleep because some monsters are chasing you down and all? Never? Oh boy, my mother did. She sure did.

She told me that I must never sleep at… well, basically at around 6 a.m or even 7 a.m. — especially after 6 a.m when the sun is shining! My mother also told me that I must never go to sleep when the sun is almost set or around 5.30 p.m and so. And even if I am sleepy to the point that I think I could sleep standing up without batting an eyelash — I must hold it. Oh boy, that’s my mother. When she says something, she means it.

“You’ll have some funny dreams if you can’t hold it. Hold it for an hour, then you can go to sleep,” she said, suggesting me to just sleep after 6.30 p.m.

I don’t live with my mother now, of course. But I sure still remember what she said.

But yesterday, I accidentally broke that forbidden-hours-to-sleep rule. And I had this funny dream that drove me banana in my sleep.

Honest to blog, I am glad that I broke it. I miss my dreams, and to dream them. You know, the celebration of your true desires and all, so Mr Freud said. It is sad that these days, when I wake up in the morning, I forget all my dreams. Sometimes I even think that I do not dream at all, so scary!

Yesterday, I woke up like at 5 a.m, and then I read this book you wouldn’t careless what it was. But an hour later, I felt so sleepy and all, I couldn’t hold it. So I slept. And dreamt.

My dream was: I was in this building and there was a flood. I was with some people, they were my new friends, I just met them and all. So two weeks ago (in real life) I helped AJI hosted a regional symposium to discuss about freedom of expression with participants from ASEAN countries etc — it looked at how bad/good is the freedom of expression in Southeast Asian countries plus India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka (that turned to be not good at all — no surprise). So in my dream, I was with these people from that symposium. But strangely, they weren’t the same people I met in the real symposium, if you know what I mean? They were different people, but from that symposium two weeks ago.

AJI asked me to help them out, you know, if they ever needed something or just directions to go to some places. In that dream, I also did that job. The difference was, there was this massive flood in the end of the symposium. I helped participants carrying their luggages around and all. But it was a real crazy flood, soon enough all of the streets were covered with gray water, and there were crocodiles. Seriously, some crocodiles, I am not joking. They were swimming so fast, waiting for us to jump into some dry land/spaces and fail and would probably eat us. And indeed, we were forced by the flood to move to those safe spots.

Continue reading

If Sigmund Freud’s wife was my mother

DO YOU LISTEN to Mingus? I do. He is one of the dead musicians I would [most want to travel back in time to] see perform live.

At the very moment, my iTunes is playing his “All the Things You Could Be by Now if Sigmund Freud’s Wife was Your Mother.” What a composition.

Some said there’s a story behind the composition. Mingus spent years of treatments, when he experienced chronic depression and loneliness. So I bet he was pretty Freud-ed once.

Anyway, “All the Things You Could Be by Now if Sigmund Freud’s Wife was Your Mother,” huh? What could you be by now if Sigmund Freud’s wife were your mother? Such an interesting question :D

Let us close our eyes and imagine it!

If my mother were Sigmund Freud’s wife, then I would be his daughter? Probably my mother would meet Freud when I was ten, right? A divorcee with three kids, and I would be the oldest. Not too bad. But not too good either. Not too good. Let’s make Sigmund Freud my biological father!

All the things I could be by now if Sigmund Freud’s wife were my mother: [please ignore political, racial, and a bit of time sequence issues]

1. If Sigmund Freud’s wife were my mother, then Freud would be my first love. In my Oedipal phase, I would suffer from Electra Complex. It’s only after I turned five or six that I would start to realize that I could never have him — my object of love and desires — the way my mother could. Later on I told myself that I should have found someone exactly like him. I would end up becoming a heterosexual who worshiped beards.

Continue reading