I have always been strongly influenced by the dreams I had. There were dreams of happiness (usually when I finally establish a loving relationship with my crushes), dreams of sadness (of a death of a family member, more often than not), dreams of adventure (yep, I still have them), and so on and so forth. Lately I have waken up not remembering any of the dreams I had for I have been having this habit of sleeping too lately and too long, thanks to holiday. But this morning, I forced myself to wake up and found myself feeling weirdly entertained by a dream I had last night.
It was about my high school lover. And just like any other high school lover, he's hardly forgotten. He left a very strong impression, equally bad and good. Recalling the memory from our days is aggravating. I had been freed from the pain since I very rarely dream about him (unlike my latest crush who seems to have a habit of visiting me in my sleep).
Well, this dream I had last night pictured us not in a loving and caring mode. The time frame must be of today, because my feelings were portrayed exactly the same as they would be today. You see... we were supposed to be attending this event, this campus seminar. Not together, but our campus joined the seminar separately.
I had known he would be there; he was supposed to be there. Had there been someone to fear our meeting, that had usually been me. Since I didn't feel any kind of fear, I assumed we would meet up there casually. You know, accidentally meet up when we were with our friends...
...but something like that did not happen.
What happens were odd. But it was, in a way, nice.
So, imagine how would you feel if you received a text, angry-toned, telling you that s/he would not come if you came. If you favor the person, surely you would feel awful. If you don't, well, that's their problem. In this dream, I feel like laughing my life out. It was so funny and pitiful (of him). I wondered what happened to him.
Then I heard whispers.
His friends whispered ugly things about me; saying it was because of me that he was sent to the institution where disturbed people take shelter. Out of curiosity, I asked them. And they told me the whole story: that he could not bear being left and alone... and that he hated me with hatred that turned his life to gall (yeah, I quoted the Wuthering Heights), and that had turned him into a disturbed man.
When I woke up, it was hilarious and stupid at the same time. You see, a part of me might have wanted this to happen: to be the one responsible for his happiness and sorrow. So strong does this feeling set in me that I dreamed of it. It must be exactly what happens because I don't believe in dreams as sign.
Well, be it true or not, one thing for sure: I had fun. ;)
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