1 04 2015

Last night, I dreamt of many dreams, but only one that frightened me. I was in this pool kind of area, and we were closing down for the night. The last thing we had to do was to shut off one of the valves for the water, but unfortunately, it was stupidly located underwater, so whoever had to turn it off had to dive down and manually turn it off. I had been scheduled to go down and turn it off, but she told me of the recent attacks by seals with spears in the dream, I imagined them as cute, animated seals holding cute, animated spears) who killed a staff member. Whoever had to go down also had to potentially face these seals.

Needless to say, I really didn’t want to go down there. I put my head in my hands and got really depressed when someone else volunteered (cheerfully) to go down. It was coworker of mine (who I’ve met once and whose name I can no longer remember but I feel like it might be Jen?) got up and made her way over to the red, sealed, metal door, behind which she was supposed to descend. The supervisor asked her if she was really ready to go, and Jen, a little too excited, said yes. As she readied herself, she turned her back to the door and faced the rest of us sitting on the floor. And with that, the door opened.

Everyone gasped. It wasn’t that the water on the other side was literally defying the laws of gravity by not allowing flowing out and washing over us. It wasn’t that the water rippled in front of us, like there was some sort of invisible wall there.

It was because Batman was behind the door in the water, glaring back at all of us.

Jen, still with her back to the open door, started climbing in the water. We yelled at her not to go, and when she turned around, she leapt away from the door and to safety. Someone closed the door, but didn’t lock it. Everyone parted from the door in fear; I was a fair way back.

The metal door banged loudly. I yelled for someone to lock the door, and someone clicked it securely. The door thudded again. This time, everyone got up and ran out of there. A bunch of us and I ran to one exit, crossing a sort of gangway, and it was only then that I noticed there were red metal doors, just like the door Batman had merely moments been trying to get through, all around us. We were screwed.

Just when we thought were were safe, two students dressed in lab coats came at us with blunt syringes filled with some sort of bright liquid. They explicitly announced that there was no exit, and that they were going to be experimenting on us for something, and proceeded to start stabbing everyone in the neck. Once injected, victims went limp, hobbling around mindlessly like a zombie. I was freaked out, yes, but also wondered why nobody was fighting them, just letting themselves get stabbed by these geeky-looking wannabe scientists.

“Christy,” I yelled to this girl nearby who I haven’t seen since the seventh grade, “get away from here!” I think she started running the other way.

And then I fought them. I stabbed one with her syringe and got her good, but the other one injected some liquid in me before I managed to subdue him. I felt my legs get tingly and wobbly, but I was still able to think clearly. I hobbled back the other way and saw Christy.

“Help, Christy,” I managed. But she ran from me. In that moment, I grumbled about how ungrateful she was after I basically saved her life. As I rounded the corner, a guy with glasses came up to me.

“Eddie,” I said, leaning on a table to keep from falling over, “help. My legs…” I knew he’d be able to help (even if in retrospect, I have no idea who he was), but then…

I woke up, drenched in sweat, as it usually happens when I have bad dreams.


29 07 2014

You told me last night
in the only place I see you now,
that we will be together in 2017.

You were conducting the orchestra
at my graduation. When everyone saw
you, they bowed reverently. But our bodies the only ones
standing, our eyes stayed
on each other.

You always had that effect on me.

With your hand on mine, we flipped through songs,
you laughing at my “bad” taste. I don’t see
your face, but I feel you there, warm and familiar.

I will be 29. You, 31. It will
have been ten years since we felt ourselves
together. Sometime, between the next
two and a half to three and a half years, you
will be back, and you will look at me,
and you will smile just like in the memories
I clutch onto every day.

You smiled, and it was as it you had never aged.

Then, when I woke up, I felt my face contort as if pulled
by wires, a sadness boiling from my gut to my face.

I cried.

Darren Criss sex dream

22 03 2013

Before bed last night, I was googling pics of Darren Criss after watching the latest episode of Glee in which I thought his hair was exceptionally nice.  And then lo and behold, he appeared in my dream!  It was this big convoluted, confusing dream that involved a witch (I think) and wandering around in scary alleys, but I somehow found a naked Darren Criss (or was it Blaine Anderson?) and naturally, proceeded to touch his gorgeous body all over (and he let me).  He had nice nipples and I wanted to make him orgasm by playing with them so I began touching him some more while he talked to me about something unimportant.  Then I felt something spurting on my leg– yet, he still continued talking as if nothing was happening.  When I pointed out that he just came and he didn’t even react to it, I think he said it wasn’t important or that he didn’t want to disrupt our conversation or something.

Anyway, after that, I think I made him go down on me but it didn’t last long because I woke up shortly after and was extremely bummed to have to go to school.  Darn you UBC.  Always killing my dreams.

Waking up sad

6 02 2013

In my dream last night, I was riding  a tricycle speedily through the streets of my neighborhood on my way to Richmond (I think).  As I approached an intersection, there was a minivan there.  I looked at the driver, and saw that it was K.  I waved and smiled at him, and he gave me a small smile.  I rode up to him, got off my tricycle, and feeling bold, I opened the car door and kissed him hard, the way I should’ve done in December when I saw him.  He was taken aback (obviously) but kissed me back.  When we stopped, I asked him what he was doing.  Then I saw the cardboard boxes in the backseat, stacked upon each other and I knew.  He told me he was leaving the city, and when I asked if it was forever, he didn’t say anything.

I must’ve gotten into the car as well because I remember sitting in the passenger seat and covering my eyes with my hands, crying and crying that I would never see him again.  I wanted to go with him but then there was school and by the time I was done, he might be with someone else or have moved on from me.

When I woke up, I felt– and am still feeling– melancholic and sad.  I was planning on watching Django Unchained at Fifth for a matinee showing, but I knew I wouldn’t be in the right mood to watch something like that.  So here I am, writing about it and listening to Eluvium.

Paul Rudd is my step-father… I wish.

24 01 2013

A few nights ago, I had a dream, one among many, that my mother re-married to my all-time favourite male celebrity crush– Paul Rudd.  She was so happy, happier than I had seen her in a very long time, and I–well, I was just delighted I had such a hot and funny step-dad.

When I told my mom about my dream the following morning, she didn’t know who he was.  I thought my mom would think for sure that Mr. Rudd is a typical unattractive gwai loh.  So I pulled up a picture of him in a suit, and she said, in Cantonese, something to the effect of, “You would match me with such a handsome man!  You’re really spoiling me!”  Or at least I think that’s what she meant.  Anyway, she laughed a bit and said that a few times, about how I was spoiling her with a guy as handsome as him.  At least I know she likes him now.

Frosted ice cream cones in my dream

20 11 2012

Nov. 20, 2012

I remember that my dreams were very complex and long, as most dreams of mine are, but I really only remember one specific scene.  I was at Fifth Ave, behind the counter even though I no longer work there, and I was helping out the staff because either they were understaffed or I was doing it for the good ‘ole times.  Anyway, someone ordered a “frosted ice cream cone”, which I had no idea what that was or how to get it, so I watched as two of the staff pulled out an oversized ice cream cone — one that was probably waist-high — and began filling the bottom, not the top, with ice cream.  Once that was packed in a little, they proceeded to fill in the top, like a regular ice cream cone, and then, tah-dah!  There was that humongous treat, in all its diabetic-glory.  Oh, and the cone was “frosted” because the top of the cone was dipped in chocolate (like the ones at the Marble Slab), and it was coated in what looked like sprinkles.  I said I wanted to have some sprinkles, so they scraped a big streak and all the candy rattled around on the counter and on the floor.  I picked up a yellow piece and chewed it.  It tasted like banana.  That was when I realized they were not sprinkles after all, but some sort of Runts.  How disappointing.

Boyfriend dream

7 09 2012

Woke up and wrote this all down before I forgot because I think it’s a little special.

Boyfriend dream

I was in a relationship with my dashing friend Owen.  We also were on tour with the Vancouver Queer Film Festival, on their tour bus as they drove across the country (which they don’t do, of course).  At one stop, the QFF set up some promotional stuff in this town, including Owen’s contribution: a bright pink, glittering diorama featuring him and another girl on stage.  There was also some writing with the diorama explaining how super gay he was.

Owen’s mother was there, and he had not come out to his family yet.  I found her staring at her son’s very loud diorama, and went over to her.  I asked her about his singing and his songs.  She kept asking me, “When?” which confused me, and when I tried to clarify, she only repeated the same question: “When?”  I told her I hadn’t heard any of songs Owen had been writing, but that he had told me he was writing some songs last summer.

I walked off so she could absorb the news of son’s strange coming out.  There were also two other younger kids there with her, presumably her other children.

I texted Owen to “come here” since his family was there.  He didn’t respond.  Instead, the next thing I knew, he was standing with his family and talking with his dad.  It appeared they were arguing.  I stood a little way off, watching, knowing this wasn’t my place.  Both of us, and possibly everyone there, was dressed in black.  I was dressed in my uniform from Fifth Avenue.

Owen came over and said I should properly meet them.  He took my hand and confidently walks over to his family.  I, on the other hand, am a nervous wreck.  I look up at him, and his face is hard and determined, and I feel bad.  I ask him if it’s really appropriate/too much that we’re holding hands especially since his dad just got the news and isn’t okay with it, and we let our hands fall.

Owen introduced me to his father, who glared at me.  I knew he though I “corrupted” his son.  My lip trembled from being so nervous.  His dad said I was just a “sex hookup” and left.  I yelled back as he was leaving that Owen and I hadn’t even had sex yet, and that we were still together because loved each other.  I said goodbye to his family, and called his mother Alice (because we were totally bffs).  I told Owen his mom was much nicer/understand than his dad, while Owen struggles to genuflect awkwardly and for seemingly no reason at all.

That’s it.  I don’t actually know if Owen’s mom’s name is Alice but it would be freaky if it were.  I texted him today and told him I had a dream with him in it but he didn’t respond.  I’ll ask him about his mom later.

By the way, Owen has a girlfriend.  Or so he says.

Sister sister

29 06 2012

Had a few short dreams involving my sister last night (no, there was no incest).

In all the dreams, I was in my old, childhood house.  In the first one, there was a typhoon or a tropical storm or something coming.  Rain was pelting down on the roof, coming in through the cracks of our crumbling house.  I ran upstairs to get my sister.  She was in the shower in her bedroom (there was no shower in her bedroom in real life), and I opened the door and shouted at her to hurry up and get downstairs.  Although I evaded my eyes so I didn’t look at her, I caught a glimpse of her in the shower and saw that she was wearing a yellow, rubber rain poncho, as the water cascaded from both the showerhead and the rain in the sky.

In the second dream, my sister was sitting on the green couch in our living room.  She was laughing, and her mouth was full of blood, and some teeth were missing.

The last dream was the most lucid.  I was yet again in the living room with my sister on the couch.  I walked over to her, and I felt like I had a scarf tied on tightly.  She gestured to my neck.  I pulled at my neck, and pried apart two pairs of hands on my neck, which had been wrapped around my neck (creepy!).  As I leaned down to her, one pair of the hands covered her nose and mouth, while the other covered mine.  Seeing how we’d both suffocate, I pulled the one hand covering her nose down to her mouth, freeing her nose.  Then, I moved the hand covering my mouth to my nose.  I strangely believed that we would somehow be able to have a functioning respiratory system since we both had a nose and a mouth free to breathe.  Without exchanging words this entire time, we tried to inhale and exhale, but it didn’t work, and we laughed a bit.

At this point, I realized I was dreaming and decided that this dream was getting to weird for me (this might have happened in the previous dream.  I can’t exactly recall).  I told myself to wake up and began slapping myself repeatedly while trying to run away from my sister, who I thought would get me or something.  However, as in all my dreams, I run as if running on molasses — super slowly.  So there I was, trying to get away from her while hitting my face.  At that point, I wondered if I was, in reality, slapping my own face in my bedroom, and thought that would be a funny sight.  As I turned around to see if my sister was going to chase me (she was just writhing on the couch), I jumped up off the porch of my house and into the air.

I woke up, not hitting myself (disappointingly), but in a hot sweat, evidence that I was having a bad dream.

Dream song

26 06 2012

I may have posted this already, but I had a dream I was playing this piece, and it fairly accurately represents how I feel at the moment.

i am a 12 year old girl, going to die

26 05 2012


I found myself at this carnival/festival-type event, running away from something.  I had climbed up to a high tower/platform thing that overlooked the festivities below, namely a cartoonish-looking green alligator in a small tank, swimming around on command by an animal trainer.  Somehow during my escape, I was no longer myself — what I mean, is I was no longer a 23 year-old, male.  I turned into a very young, about 12 or something, girl.  This is not very relevant to what will happen next, but for whatever reason, it still happened.

The event was bordered by a large body of water, and I had to get across it somehow.  I fashioned a piece of something into a boat of some sort, and started paddling away.  There was a small, spider-like machine on the water (I had recently watched an analysis of Wild Wild West that day, and there’s a spider-machine thing in the movie).  I stayed away from it, but there was something else happening on the water.  Ahead of me, canoers were paddling back to shore, and the water itself was “jumping” — something was in the water.  Suddenly, a narrator’s voice interrupted the scene.  I can’t even remember if the voice was male or female, but it said how the water was dangerous and that everyone was heading back to shore.  So I reluctantly headed back too.

Once back on land, I was then informed by the narrator that anyone who was in the water would die because the water was contaminated or poisonous or something or rather.  Distraught and upset that my 12 years was cut short, I went to find a telephone to phone my mother.  In the crowded, noisy space where everyone had gathered, I found a telephone that was being watched over by Ms. Pillsbury from Glee.  I asked her if I could use the phone to talk to my mom, and she said I better be quick.

With difficulty, I dialed home.  My mom picked up.  Through tears and sobbing, I told her I was going to die because I had been in the water.  She expressed little to no remorse.  When she asked how I knew, I told her, “Because the narrator said so.”  I also somehow “knew” that Shopper’s Drug Mart had contaminated the water, and they would be held responsible.  “Just get the money from Shopper’s Drug Mart,” she said, implying that after I had died, there would be money to be had from suing Shoppers for killing me.  I cried more on the phone and hung up.

I woke up shortly after, very much sad, and before going to the bathroom, I went to the kitchen, where my mom was drinking tea, and hugged her.

Then I told her my dream and she laughed.