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Imageries Of A Dreamer

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The Day My Room Is Mine Once More [May. 21st, 2007|03:01 am]
[Tags|, , , , , , , , , , , , , ]
[Current Location |Taman Kinrara, Puchong]
[    Mood     | happy]
[    Music     |Ross Copperman - All She Wrote]

It’s Sunday, a week just went by; like sheets of paper you tear off the toilet roll when you realise you’ve reached the hard surface of the cardboard-tube. Or that very last cube of ice left in the freezer you tried to melt slowly in your mouth after finishing a bowl of spicy noodles soup; saving the last bit of relief. You wish for more.

Just imagine. An extension to Sunday, the 8th day of the week. A day between Sunday and Monday when you can continue doing things you are so passionate about that you feel so fulfilled that you are ready to face the new week. But alas, they normally happen when you fall into deep sleep, in a dream so rich and real; you wet your pants, you fall of bed, you cry, you laugh, you talk, you walk out of bed and you even drool.

* * *


My makeshift desktop in the room.

I was up in my own bed this bright morning, contented; happy. For a month, I gave in to mum’s request to let my brother who’s a year my junior have my room. Since I moved to Singapore, bro has sort of taken over my room and even installed a brand new air-conditioning unit before claiming it his own. All this while, no one told me about it. And coming back home, I was disoriented by such arrangement. At some point, I felt like I was living at some hotel, nothing felt permanent to me. The white and blue coloured room which had a little part of me in it is now something else. Part of the blue is plastered with images of him with other people. The table is cluttered with wiring and trinket of things. But I am thankful my books are untouched in the shelves. Some of the CDs are carelessly placed here and there.
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