By My Side

I am not one to share my innermost feelings with just about anyone. Simply put, I am not like others who can so comfortably publish their anger, sadness, frustrations, or even the highest of feelings - joy, excitement, extreme happiness. I am talking about heartfelt feelings, those implanted in the depths of one's soul, whose roots are deep. Those which linger long after the triggers wear off. Those, I am not very good at talking about. I attribute that to my shyness.

I suppose the reason I am typing this is because an online diary allows one to convey one's feelings without the need for physical expressions, expressions that sometimes are not precise representations of the emotions enclaved in the heart - especially when one is brought up in the typical Asian culture. How many times have you played down your fears, sorrows, grief when you talk about them? Someone says matter-of-factly "my father passed away" and you respond sympathetically with "i'm so sorry" but neither actions and words really convey the true sentiments of both persons - one who could be very devastated with the loss of a loved one, the other absolutely helpless and empathetic.

I went to bed at 8:50 last night. After only two hours of rest the night before (or rather, in the wee hours of the morning) and after a long day spent on OS assignment, I was ready for a good slumber. This night I had a bizarre dream, which would wake me up at 5:30 and in the still and darkness of a young day, fill me with agonizing sadness and yet, with overwhelming gratitude.

I dreamt of people I haven't seen in person for a while. It was a long saga, but as far as I can remember, the faces appeared after my zipper was stolen. Someone stole my zipper, and that zipper could stick to the celling. This somehow left me panicked, and I suppose for a very good reason, because someone began shooting at me from the celling through the opening of the zipper. Bizarre dreams can be.

I was afraid, but was even more frightened at the thought of my mom and grandma getting in the way of the bullets, so I stood right in front of the gunman, tried to shoot back, and called to my mom to get grandma and herself out of the room. After a while, I was out on the road. The backdrop throughout the dream was white and gray. Mom and grandma had safely left in a car. I was still being hunted. Then my aunt came by, adamantly wanted to stay with me, despite furious efforts of asking her to leave. My other aunt tried persuading her too, she wouldn't listen. I was exasperated by her stubbornness.

Suddenly I was in a cell, shielded with bulletproof glass. Something happened here which I don't remember. Someone defeated the gunman. Then my former classmates came to me, concerned. These were faces I haven't seen for a long time - people whom I rarely even talked to. I went to the glass door. As I opened it I saw, at the corner of the room, my yet other aunt in light green baju kurung, and sitting right behind her, his back against hers, was my grandfather. He was wearing a blue shirt. Tears flowed. I vividly remember thinking that it has been three years. I hastened towards grandpa, then wrapped my arms around him. Tightly. The tears were endless. Called out to him repeated. It has been three years since I saw you.

My arms on his back. The feel of his flesh. It was so real. I remember feeling so thankful. To be able to see him, to hold him. But it had to end there, and suddenly I find myself under the sheets looking out the window at the pitch black sky. It took about a second to realise what happened. Then slight happiness dawned at such a surreal experience. That immediately was followed by a deep pang of sadness, knowing that I could never again deliver the hug in this world that I live in.

I told my mother about the dream an hour ago. As usual, you down play your emotions when it comes to these things. You try not to choke in front of your mother, not even on webcam on Skype.

She told me it was the last night of Cheng Beng.

I am scientific, logical, realistic. But I do believe there are some things which are inexplicable, some things which happen when they mean to, for a reason. I believe he was telling me that he is here, by my side. And that is motivation enough for me to work hard for next week and beyond.