. 19.07.13 Mad Mike .

  There was this serial killer we caught whom we named Mad Mike. There was a number of us; me, a high-ranking detective, a large-bodied latino sheriff who originally cuffed Mad Mike, and Chad, a laid-back hippie character with long dreads and beard who was my unorthodox partner, and this one scrawny, white guy who looked like the sheriff's assistant officer.

  The sheriff and assistant officer were walking Mad Mike along the street until suddenly he hit the deputy and made a run for it uphill but Chad and I broke him off and pinned him down. We were next to the main road so there were cars passing us by. Somehow, Mad Mike managed to uncuff one hand so as I was about to cuff him, he had this look in his eyes. Like a real mad dog. I was sitting ontop of him and before he had the chance to throw me off and into the busy street of cars, I got off of him with both cuffs on.

  We continued to walk along the street until he resisted arrest again and knocked Chad to the ground. He had also injured the sheriff and deputy somehow and was running amok. There were civilians nearby so I told Chad to just shoot him. I ran behind him the entire time, just a few metres apart. Chad got hold of the sheriff's shotgun and trid to shoot but it was jammed. He tried the trigger a couple of times but he accidentally shot the ground and a bullet somehow ricocheted into his shoulder. Mad Mike was totally happy to see how incompetent his captors were.

  Mad Mike escaped his cuffs once more, got the shotgun and tried to shoot me. I ran behind a tree and hid in the surrounding hill. We were at a gas station, surrounded by hills, so I hid in the trees where I could still see what Mike was up to. He had some civilians held hostage; an old woman and three younger ladies. Chad was wounded, sheriff and deputy were still down but I don't think they were dead. Mad Mike kept blasting off he shotgun here and there and everywhere, shouting nonsense.

  Finally I got hold of a golf club from the trash bins by the back of the gas station. I somehow jumped down from the hilltop to meet Mike face-to-face. He tried to shoot me but he hadn't been paying attention to how many shots he'd just wasted; now he had none. So I took the gun and hit him once in the head with it. Once down, I saw on top of him again to deliver the final blow to his head with the golf club.


I admit I was a bit brutal for a hard-ass detective, but he was a mad serial killer on the loose and he'd escaped too many times. I felt like justice was served by my own two hands.

. 17.07.13 the Journalist .

  My friend was an investigative journalist, who had been working on his latest scoop for the longest time. He knew that some people were after him. He was the target of a lot of powerful and dangerous people, as he wrote amazing pieces on human rights and the freedom of people from the oppressing governments around the world. Sadly he was assasinated/murdered while working on his latest job. I had some of his worknotes and discovered that he mentioned the people he suspected were onto him; two aliases by the names of Rapier and Hyena. But what my Dream is mainly about is what happened after his death.

  Before his death, he recorded a series of videos of his family, his closest friends, all his loved ones, which he made into a documentary. The documentary was aired after his imminent death and we all watched it. When it showed on TV, I was watching it with my dad. It looked as if he was filming his own birthday party, with his voice spoke in the background, "This is my beautiful mother - This is my baba (father) - And this is my good friend, Yaqeen. He always wants to be the first to welcome me and hold my hand during celebrations," to which the friend in the screen laughed. Everyone looked so happy, for he was considered a hero in his country. No one looked like they knew they were celebrating the last birthday of his life.

  My friend always wrote poems, mostly about his life, his family, and his home, Kashmir. In my Dream, his compilation of poetry was voted number#1 in the newspapers list of top most read literature, after the premier of his documentary. His documentary, upon its release, became number 9 in the list of most watched documented media of the week and won an international award. My greatest surprise was the mail I recieved after I finished watched TV. I couldn't watch the film till the end, it was too sad. My heart ached every time I recalled the smiling faces of his parents.

  Looking through today's mail, I noticed an important-looking envelope addressed to me. I opened it up and found that it was some kind of will. In the will, my friend had entrusted to me a certain amount of money. Accompanying the will was a letter personally written by him, thanking us and hoping that the money could help us with whatever problems we had with our families. He asked us to take care of our families while we still had the chance. He had given most of his savings to his family and distributed it among his closest friends. He also donated to different charities and organizations. I cried, still holding onto the envelope, pressing it close to my chest. My heart cried, sincerely missing such a good person and friend, who died doing what he loved and protecting those he loved.


Sorry if this Dream was short and perhaps not as whimsical as some of the others, but this was a really sad Dream for me to remember and write down because knowing this friend in real life, it sounded like it was something he would really do. May God protect him and bless him for what he's done, and for being such a good friend and man to begin with.

.: Magenta - a girl in a grey world :.

Finally drew Magenta from my Dream, 'A girl in a grey world' :) Since I haven't been able to remember my Dreams lately, thought I'd update with a picture.

. 10.04.13 salamander .

  It was past the hours of twilight and I roamed around the rooftops of a dark and bustling metropolis. From a glance, I knew it was the city of Gotham, and I was just one of its disliked inhabitants. I was a reptilian, half-breed, with blood-red and fiery ember scales. My hair was long and black like tar. I had a pair of horns, and my left eye was absolutely white though I wasn’t blind. I had a long, whip-like tail with sharp spikes at the end of it. My only companions were my two demon dogs, whom I named Psykes and Cleaver. As dangerous as I seemed with my entourage, my Persona didn’t seem criminal at all. Because of my likeness, I laid low and stayed out of people’s way in general. The shadows were my home.

  A big crime had gone down in my part of the city so I sent my dogs to investigate. The two dogs looked like zombie mutts, with shreds of their flesh missing here and there. They both had black and dark red fur. Their eyes were totally white, but glowed red when provoked. Something about them reminded me of Neil Gaiman’s characters Cain and Abel from the Sandman universe, how Cain would relentlessly torture and kill his younger brother over and over again but Abel kept regenerating because they were somewhat immortal. Psykes and Cleaver were exactly like that, Psykes being Cain. I called him Psykes because he had more of a psychotic streak than his younger brother.

  Psykes was picking a fight with Cleaver again and as he tore up his neck and slash his long claws at his belly, Cleaver would just whine and howl in agony. My character was a bit cold in character in the sense that this was the norm and didn’t bother intervening even as Cleaver died over and over again. Suddenly, alarm struck and the streets were busy. I shushed the dogs so that I could see what was going on. Something had struck Gotham city; Robin was dead, and the Dark Knight wants to know who killed him.

The Dream ended there, but if I were to continue the story, I’d guess that people started seeing me around the crime scenes and made me the prime suspect. This pisses Batman off and he tracks me down to question if I had anything to do with it. I’m innocent of course, and to prove it, I’d help Batman look for Robin’s actual killer. My dogs were better eyes and ears, and hunters for him in the underground metropolis. I call my character a Salamander because in some occult beliefs, the Salamander is the elemental of fire; a mythical being with an affinity to fire. Even though I didn’t see my Persona play with fire or anything, her scales reminded me of flames and her dogs seemed like Hellhounds so why not.

. 10.03.13 Zuko's dark side .

  The Dream was set in the world of the Avatar: the Last Airbender, so if you’ve never of this awesome Nickolodeon series, you’ll probably be lost. We were at a Fire Nation prison somewhere on an island and surrounded by water. I don’t remember a lot about my Persona except that I was a girl with dark hair and a long ponytail. I was dressed in Fire Nation guard armour and I called two guards around the corner to come back me up as a prisoner was attempting escaped. When the guards arrived, I banged their heads together and threw them into an empty cell, unconscious. Sokka got the keys and found the cell that was keeping Aang in and let him out. Aang was really happy to see us both.

  Aang had his trusty glider back and lead everyone out of the prison safely. Even Zuko was there helping with Aang’s escape so he was one of the good guys now. The prison was in the middle of a crater filled with water, with rockpools all around it’s dividing walls between the prison and freedom. Aang was trying to carry Sokka and I while Zuko used Fire-bending to give himself a lift while still holding onto Aang. But in the end we were all too heavy and landed in the water before we could cross the crater walls. We climbed into the nearest rockpool where we rested in shallow water.

  But suddenly we heard a voice and as the mist cleared, standing on top of the rockpool was a girl with dark eye-shadow and purple hair and clothes. She didn’t seem interested in Aang who just busted out of prison but looked like she was after Zuko and I, for personal and other reasons. Zuko looked like he hated her with a passion though. I don’t really know what happened between the two, but in between the sarcastic, snarky remarks, the girl was sincerely apologetic for something she did to Zuko. But Zuko didn’t seem like the forgiving type at the moment.

  As she got into the rockpool with us and once I saw Zuko’s anger, my guts told me that it was time to go. Sokka had gotten out of the rockpool first and I guessed it was high-time I took Aang with me. Aang was tired from all the flying and gliding so I had to keep us both afloat, and we were in no position to help Zuko. But it turns out that he didn’t need any help at all. Zuko set the rockpool at boiling temperature, turning the surrounding rocks black as charcoal. Once the girl realized what was going on, it was too late for her to escape. She screamed her lungs out, the pain of being boiled alive was unbearable. I tried to shield Aang’s eyes away from the horrible sight but I couldn’t stop the screaming. It was the first time we all saw Zuko’s dark side.

  I’ve already had severable Avatar Dreams before and they all have had Zuko in them because he’s my favourite character (which I like to fangirl over). But honestly this Dream was ghastly and just plain sad. I’d like to think that Zuko and my character were close and the fact that the girl threatened to kill me to get to him maybe kind of pissed him off, but I didn’t expect him to kill the girl. At least not in such a horrifying way.

. 09.03.13 animal research centre .

  This was a parallel universe where animals ruled the earth and humans were like the lower race to be used as slaves and assistants. The animals walked and talked just like humans but kept all of their animalistic features. Imagine Giraffes, Rhinos and Elephants wearing suits and white lab coats and are able to magically hold objects without the use of thumbs. The Dream took place in a research centre where humans were the main and preferred test subject. And I was a test subject. What’s interesting in this Dream is that this might be the first time that my Persona is a man.

  I was a young adult male and the only reason I’ve survived this long in the research centre is because I was one of their most valuable experiments. I was a human hybrid with the abilities of most animals combined, by reforming my genetic make-up with that of other species. Basically I was BeastBoy, just without the shape-shifting powers. The researchers thought that giving me special treatment could keep me complacent, isolating me from other humans and treating me as tenderly and humanely as possible. But I was intelligent enough to catch onto what kind of world I was kept in.

  The Dream started with me already in the middle of my escape. The centre was not yet alerted of my escape but a Rhino guard had caught me and was chasing me down. I dashed into an empty laboratory with lots of metal shelves and cupboards full of equipment. The room was dark and the Rhino had poor eyesight but had acute sense of hearing. As I clambered onto the tallest cupboard, I sat still so by the time he reached the lab, he was quite lost but he knew I was there and he would wait till I made a move before ramming that gigantic horn into me (I was a valuable test subject but the Rhino has been wanting to pick a bone with me for while apparently and if they found that I’d been disobedient, they’d have labelled me as too dangerous and put me down anyway).

  So I grabbed the metal shelf closest to me and one filled with lots of glass and metal equipment and pushed it down. It crashed into the next shelf, creating a domino effect and if the collapse of shelves onto the Rhino didn’t stop him, the loud crashes of glass and metal on the marble floor did. The lab was in such a chaotic ruckus, it hurt his sensitive ears and he couldn’t locate where I was. I made my move. Parts of the centre like the laboratories were separated by drywall that didn’t really touch the ceiling and it had ample space for me to climb and get around. The walls were high enough (or I was stealthy enough) for me not to be seen by the researchers below.

  But the others heard the crash and were heading this way, and soon the centre would be on high alert. I had to get out fast. I ended up in another room, where there were Impala and Giraffe scientists working. The moment they saw me, they screamed and ran out of the room. I wanted to climb down and hide somewhere, or maybe thought that it’d be faster running on foot. But the moment I climbed down to a desk, a Hyena and African Wild Dog guard cornered me. I had to fight them off using nothing but my brute strength, and the closest thing I grabbed to use as a weapon was a large bag filled with heavy powder, like flour. I swung and hit one guard in the head and I proceeded to beat both the guards to death before I ran out of the room.

  Unfortunately that was the end to the Dream. I don’t know whether I escaped safely or not but the chase was getting too tense for me, I was kind of glad I woke up. I don’t like Dreams where you’re being chased but at the same time sometimes I’m curious to know what happens when you get caught. But in this Dream, I wasn’t too awfully curious to find out.

. 15.12.12 escape .

  First objective: Flip the switch.

On the first floor, you can’t stay at one place for too long a time. Sometimes you’ll have to risk it and explore. The more ground you cover, the more places you can hide. The school building has two wings and a staircase at each wing to take you to the levels above. One wing is closed off and you’ve got to flip a switch to open it. The ogre-matron of the first floor guards the switch to the staircase. You’ll know her when you see her. Ugly everything with a side of warts, in a nurse’s uniform; can’t miss her. Even if she isn’t around, when you flip the switch, make sure you run and hide because she’ll know and she’ll catch you if you linger. Don’t go to the staircases immediately. Hide for a while to cover your hide.

 

  Second objective: Change your clothes.

Change your identity from time to time. Camouflage and blending in is the key to this level. There are many other scavengers trapped and living in this level, and in this kind of crowd you don’t want to stand out. Find your way to the laundry chutes to change your clothes. There are other matrons guarding this level but they’re stupid, so you can get away by even dressing up as one of them. But the nurse uniforms are harder to procure. Disguise yourself as part of the background or just hide in the dark. They do not like the color yellow.

  Next objective: Find the key to the green house.

The whole Dream was just colors of steel grey, brown rust and seaweed green.  It’s dark, everything is dusty, decrepit and falling apart little by little. It reminded me a lot of the abandoned, underwater burial ground that is Rapture, from the Bioshock game. The scattered piles of junk everywhere and the architecture of the place looked more like the makeshift hospital from the game, Return to Ravenhearst.  We weren’t underwater nor in a hospital, but rather a school. And survival was the game. Unfortunately the Dream ended so suddenly before I could understand the rest of the instructions. Have to admit this Dream gave me the chills, just running around, hiding and avoiding everything on sight.

. save the pig .

  I was in a hospital. It was clean and bright and bustling with people. I found myself in the lobby where there was a long line of people at the front counter. I think I was a temp or a nurse, dressed in the green hospital uniform but I don’t remember what I was supposed to do. Then all of a sudden the person at the end of the line started scratching incessantly. He couldn’t stop, and the itch spread to the person in front of him, and then jumped to the person in front of that person, till the whole line was scratching themselves all over. Something contagious had spread, and the hospital went into lockdown, quarantining everyone who had contracted this strange chicken-pox-looking skin disease.

  The hospital director assigned this case to a well respected doctor and he discovered that the disease started because of a pig that was brought into the hospital. The pig was something of a sports mascot and was pretty famous, so no one thought it odd that it would get special treatment from one of the most renowned doctors in town. The doctor carried the pig and took it straight away to surgery.

  Time passed and I wondered what surgery was actually taking place as it took so long. Finally the doctor came out of the room, looking stern and cold as ever. He saw me and told me that the surgery was successful but the pig didn’t survive. It was my job to dispose the body and clean up the theatre room. As I entered the theatre, I saw the body of a pig on its back, with its body cut up and mangled from the inside, with blood dripping from its intestines. But the more I inspected it, the more I realised that this was not the same pig.

  It turns out that I had been taking care of the pig for a while so I was suspicious as to why the doctor would lie and switch the pig bodies. I grew upset knowing the pig was still under my responsibility, so I went to look for it. I discovered another hidden theatre room where the real pig laid, on the operating table, on its back, and its stomach was also cut open. But it was more horrible when I found out that it was still alive and slowly coming into consciousness. As if the doctor purposely did not apply enough anaesthetic so that the pig could feel pain throughout the procedure.

  I was furious! But I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to find that doctor and kick his ass, but the first thing I was did was go downstairs to find a veterinary doctor (don’t ask why they would be in the same hospital building). I knocked on the door and entered to find an Indian woman by the name of Dr. Kreegul Gurgess. I knew she was a great and kind animal doctor so I explained to her the situation and rushed to my aid upstairs. She also let me know that we would definitely get the doctor back for what he did.

The only thing I can think about from this is that ANIMAL RIGHTS PEOPLE. THEY CAN FEEL PAIN TOO. I really don’t like people who hurt, kill and abuse animals just for the fun of it. I’d cast them in the Twilight zone where animals ruled the earth and used humans for lobotomy tests.

Also, there is this misconception, not only in non-muslims, but in muslims themselves that just because pigs and dogs are regarded as impure, we have to treat them badly. Since when are we ever encouraged to treat another creation badly?? Just because we have to wash our body parts or any object that’s made contact with pigs and dog’s saliva 7 times, we have to condemn the creatures to pain and misery?? COME ON PEOPLE. THINK.

. 28.11.12 Nobody .

  Her eyes are a dark, dull silver pair, and they stare at you lifeless, like the eyes of a dead fish. Her hair is raven and forever trailing in the wind, and her ends disappear with every gust that stirs. Her dress reminds you of the mist, and sometimes you wonder if that was all she was, and if she was ever there.

  She likes to walk around at night, barefoot across roads and roads of cobblestoned streets. And sometimes, if you listen real hard, you can almost hear the pitter-patter of ghostly feet. Like a child, she is forever curious of the world around her; the sensations about her that she can no longer feel or taste or touch. She likes to follow you around, even if you never notice her; even if your eyes will never meet hers. It hasn’t stopped her before.

  Animals take notice of her. Some are frightened, while others grow familiar with her kind presence. She becomes nothing more than a shadow that accompanies them on their rounds. If she had a companion, it would seem to be a particular, black cat, plump in figure with emerald eyes bejewelling its round face. They walk side-by-side down the cobblestone path in the early mornings, before the milkman arrives with its breakfast.

  Most people never see her, and she doesn’t mind. She doesn’t mind anything anymore. She just is. And that is all she will be. Though sometimes she takes pleasure in being noticed once in a while. More than once, her misty frame has caught the glance of a child or two and they always stare at her in awe. Their eyes tell her they’re frightened of her dead-fish pair and her ghostly figure, and all she does in return is smile, with a single finger to her pale lips. Her raven hair twists and turns in the wind and across her face.

This Dream was neither sad nor scary. Just a short narrative of a girl ghost who walked through the streets, still observing the lives of the living and existing with the simple pleasures she has left. Like making friends with a single black cat (which was awfully cute by the way). I called this Dream ‘Nobody’ because it reminded me a lot of Nobody Owens, the ghostly boy from the Graveyard Book; one of my faves by Neil Gaiman.

. 27.11.12 the suitors .

  It’s the late 1900’s, like a set straight out of Pride and Prejudice and I am a Bystander in this Dream. There’s a dinner party going on and the center of attention is a lovely lady with dark hair in a pearl coloured gown. She in enchanting and is the focus of all men around her, especially these two. One had silver hair, tied into a neat ponytail, and was dressed in rich, navy blue attire with golden trimmings. Compared to the other gentleman, he looked like he was of the higher social status. The other man was just as handsome, had dark brown hair tied into a ponytail as well, though it was a little shorter. His clothes were rich as well, but plain in comparison to the first gentleman.

  For simplicity’s sake, I’ll name the two men. The one with white hair will be Frederick and the one with brown hair will be David. Frederick was an aristocrat who had his eyes on the lovely lady for a while and has asked her hand for marriage once, but she had turned him down. However that didn’t stop him from seeing her every chance he got. He attended social gatherings and dinner parties, only if she was too invited. Unknown to him, the reason she rejected him the first time was because she had already her heart set on a childhood love, David.

  David was from a wealthy family too but was a working man and earned his living, while Frederick was born from old money. He and the girl knew each other for longer a time than Frederick. Frederick was always wary of David, but he was envious of anyone was closer to the lady than he was. That dinner party however, David made a special announcement. He proposed to the girl there and then and, flustered and blushing, the girl accepted. Everyone cheered and was overjoyed, and congratulated the two. And Frederick seethed in a corner by himself.

  The Dream then shifts and takes us to another time where Frederick is with David, alone in a library or study room. This is where David tells Frederick of his story, of how he and the girl were friends from childhood and how naturally their love for one another blossomed. It was obvious to David that Frederick was jealous, as they bantered sarcastic remarks over petty, unrelated issues. But what he didn’t know was how well Frederick’s hatred had rooted every since the night of the dinner party. David was too proud over the fact that he had won her hand instead, but he failed to remain alert. As they bantered, David stayed seated in the comfortable armchair while Frederick walked idly about the bookcases around the room.

  Where he was able to point a pistol at David’s head and shoot him point-blank from behind.

Jealousy and hate make men into terrible things. This was just so sad, I don’t even know. I bet Frederick went insane and got himself caught and thrown into an asylum, where he grew into a psychotic, fuelled by the delusion that he’ll have the girl fall in love with him no matter what the cost. God, that’d make a creepy movie. Wonder if it’s already been done before...

. 24.08.12 a girl in a grey world .

  If the world were a colour, it would be grey. Well, it’s not really grey. But for this girl, it was. She was an odd little girl in an odd little world. Well, she wasn’t really little, nor was the world she woke up in. But one thing was true, it was all very odd.

  When she woke up, she wasn’t really lying down. She was standing up straight and felt a bit disorientated, as if she had fallen in a daze in the middle of the corridor. She can’t remember where she was or how she got there in the first place. And everywhere around her was very strange and unfamiliar. The decrepit structure of the buildings, the damp, grungy decor and the foreign smells thick in the atmosphere; it was not a pleasant place to be, but the girl was not frightened.

  As she explored the place, she found her reflection in a large, piece of mirror shard, sticking out like a jagged piece of ruin. She seemed like the only thing in the world with colour. Her short hair and top were a bright, dark pink, almost a magenta shade. Her skin was porcelain white, with a blush of colour on her cheeks, like a doll. Her pants and knee-length boots were black as tar, and so were her eyes. But her eyes had pink pupils in the middle, like buttons.

  Not a moment too soon after inspecting herself in the shard did she hear a strange sound. Further down the corridor she spots a large frog-like creature. Or maybe it was a child. Perhaps it was both. Its skin was swamp-green and it was hopping about like a frog, but there was something child-like or impish about his face. Whatever it was, it seemed like the only moving creature besides her. In a lonely grey world with nothing to do, she follows it through the maze of the worn-down building. The creature bounced off the walls as the girl nonchalantly followed. It seemed as if it wanted to be followed because whenever the girl stopped and took her time to inspect something, the frog-imp-child would wait for her close by.

  Through corridors and corridors, the girl passed by shadows and old ghosts and people whom she was sure were no longer people; all residents of this forgotten grey world. The girl found a staircase and was enticed to go downstairs to see where it led. But she heard someone coming up the stairs. It was a woman singing. Suddenly fear overtook the magenta-haired girl and she hid around the corner. From a safe corner, she saw the woman’s black gown trailing behind her as she sang softly, but cheerily. She was dressed in all black, like a mourner’s gown, with a long, black-laced veil covering her face. The atmosphere was eerie and cold and for the first time, the girl was frightened. She went to look for the frog-child.

  Finally the girl sees a curtain at the end of a large hallway, with bright light creeping in through the gaps and moth-bitten holes. Without hesitation, she pushes through the curtain and her eyes are blinded, for a moment, by a vast spectrum of colours. She finds herself in the outside world. She looks up to the blue, azure sky and she can feel the warm sunlight on her porcelain skin, still feeling cold from the grey world behind her. She finds herself standing on a patio garden, with greenery of all kinds in pots of different shapes. On the wooden floor and a number of them handing above her head. Some of them even had flowers and they were a beauty for her button eyes to behold.

  Just then, she feels arms wrap around her and someone is hugging her from behind. The girl hears a voice speaking, saying things like ‘how much I’ve missed you’ and ‘it’s good to see you again’. The girl turns around and she stares into the chocolate eyes of another girl, not much older than she was. She had brown hair and was dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans. She looked at the girl as if she were expecting a response to the warm welcome. The magenta-haired girl looked confused at the stranger and asked, “And you are...?”

  And the girl with chocolate eyes was stunned. “Don’t you remember me, Magenta? It’s me! You do remember me, don’t you?” A second later a lifetime of memories flooded the girl’s mind, shocking and terrifyingly abrupt. The girl with chocolate eyes was just a child when Magenta came into her life. Woven by threads of dreams and wishes of friendship, Magenta was brought to life by the little artist and her world of crayons and bright paint. Whenever she needed a muse or a friend, Magenta was always there for her. But one day, the artist fell ill for the longest time and her world of colour was turning pale from malnourishment.

  Months passed and the girl remained in a coma, and unconsciously sought dreams from everywhere else except her own. But though Magenta was almost forgotten, she never left her little artist. She remained in limbo, where she awaited her canvas world to be restored to life. But after a while, Magenta lost her memory and wandered through limbo aimlessly, constantly forgetting what and who she was and what and who she was supposed to be. Finally the day came when the artist awoke. And she sought to find her muse once more. “I’m sorry. I never intended to forget, especially you.” Magenta replied as she hugged her artist tight, “You never forgot me. Your heart remembered. You were always there, while I was the one who lost memory of my master.” And painted on her porcelain face was a smile.

This was a sweet story with loads of abstract concepts, but I loved it to bits. I especially liked how blur and nonchalant Magenta turned out to be. There are still a few things I didn’t get, like who the frog-child and the lady-in-black were supposed to represent. After all the grey world is actually the grey matter in the artist-girl’s head. I love the special relationship the artist has for her muse, like she really loves her and protects her, because she has been a part of her ever since she was created. And now reunited they can make worlds again <3>

. poor Harriet .

  Harriet is a 17-year-old girl with chestnut eyes and frizzy dark brown hair. Harriet is a disturbed 17-year-old girl. Her eyes are always blood-shot and her chestnut color has dulled with tears. Her wavy locks have become more of a frantic mess. Her eyes are sunken from restless sleep, and she’s been tired of the world for the longest time. Her skin is pale from hiding from the sun. She rarely goes out anymore. She lives with her uncle and aunt. But her father lives with her.

  Every morning she has to wake up to the sound of his voice; his sharp, snarky remarks about everything she is and everything she isn’t. When she brushes her hair, he is there in the mirror, speaking to her in his cold, condescending tone. He would tell her not to bother with her looks when she’s not even worth looking at. She would fight him at first, with silence, not knowing what to say. But deep down, her heart was breaking. When she cries, he just brushes it off and leaves in a huff.

  Every morning she has breakfast with her aunt and uncle, at the round dining table with the quaint white-red chequered cloth. And every morning her father sits between her and her relatives and continues the verbal abuse, while drinking coffee as black and bitter as he was. After attempting a few nibbles of her toast and scrambled eggs, Harriet doesn’t dare eat another bite at the constant nit-picking of her father. She just sits at the table, head down low, and silently tears trickle down her freckled cheeks. Her aunt and uncle look at her pitifully and say nothing.

  This morning, her aunt and uncle were taking her out for a drive. Her aunt sits with her in the back, and her father sits in the front passenger seat. The whole time her uncle drove, her father just could not stop barking at her; calling her names and belittling her every being. She cringed every time his voice rose. Even as her aunt held her, she was trembling from the fear and anxiety and the tears.

  Finally Harriet snaps. And she screams.

  She screams with all her might, staring into his heartless eyes in the rear-view mirror. She screams, “I don’t need you anymore! You’re nothing to me! Why can’t you just leave – me – alone??!!” Her aunt struggles to keep her calm and her uncle focuses on the road, not wanting to hear this. Her father, however, smiles. And slowly his figure disappears from existence, like mist. He is gone and the passenger seat is left empty. But his sadistic smile burns into Harriet’s mind.

  Her aunt and uncle are taking her to a hospital. Hopefully she will have some peace there.

  Harriet is a 17-year-old girl with chestnut eyes and frizzy dark brown hair, and exhausted hopes and worn out dreams. Harriet is a disturbed 17-year-old girl. Her father died 2 years ago so she lives with her uncle and aunt. But her father lives with her. Forever inside her. And he’s not going to go away.

Poor Harriet. The whole Dream played out like a movie so I tried narrating it as it was. If you still don’t quite understand what’s going on here, basically it’s about a teenage girl who has been abused by her father for the longest time. Probably ever since she was a child. I’m not sure whether it was sexual abuse or just physical, verbal & emotional abuse, but it was traumatic nonetheless. She suffers from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, in the sense that she began hallucinating about her father, since he died 2 years back. Even though he was gone, his memories still lived within and tormented her.

.: Slenderween :.

In my latest Dream post, I mentioned how I was a fan of Slenderman and how it would've been cool to have his as a dad, or a foster dad, or a demon guardian or something of the sort. My friend, Ash, has always been a fan for all things morbidly awesome so she joined the bandwagon. Last Halloween, I drew this as a tribute to Slender-daddy with us as his demonic hybrid Slenderspawns.

I wanna draw more fanart of him now.

. 08.08.12 Slender child .

  I was a young girl with long black hair and a petite red dress, and a cute red hair-band. I lived in a great, big, wooden cottage in the middle of a grey forest. Very rarely did I see people in the forest, let alone children. But when I did see children, I was very happy. I’d go out and play with them. The children never stayed for long though. They were either frightened of me or stayed away, or they just disappeared eventually. But there were two boys that did not mind the fact I lived in a forbidden forest and that I had slightly morbid tendencies. I liked them a lot. They were my first friends.

  The older boy had chestnut hair and eyes, and wore a plain white shirt with denim overalls, with one strap hanging loose from his shoulder. His younger brother had darker hair, almost black like mine, and wore a red shirt and knee-length, brown pants. They lived in a village near to my forest and stumbled upon me by chance one day. Though they were told time and time again not to go near the forest by their parents, they would visit me every day just to play with me. I was their little secret as they were mine.

  But one day they visited me while I was still inside my home. I was in my bedroom upstairs and they saw me through the window. Though I was afraid we would get caught, I opened my window and hurried them to come inside before ‘daddy’ would see. So they were let into my home and we played for a while. But once I heard ‘daddy’ come back home, I had to rush them out the window and had them carefully climb down. ‘Daddy’ doesn’t like it when strangers are in the house. He doesn’t like strangers at all.

  The moment the boys disappeared from plain sight, running back to their village, there was a knock on my door. ‘Daddy’ entered, looming and tall, so much so he reached the ceiling and he had to hunch. His tentacles were twisting and twirling behind him, restless, as if he was disturbed. He took a look outside my window then turned to me and I smiled as innocently as I could. Once his tendrils calmed down, his faceless mask softened as well and a large tentacle patted me on the head. I loved ‘daddy’ but it can get rather lonely sometimes when everyone’s afraid of Slenderman.

Yes I was Slenderman’s child and I really enjoyed the Dream. The way Slendy was so affectionate with me, and protective of me. It made me wonder if I was really his biological, monstrous child or just some child he kidnapped and liked having around. Or perhaps I was demonically possessed and he adopted me for that interest in me. Or perhaps I was a normal child who was already dead, but resurrected due to Slendy’s supernatural powers; cus he was awfully lonely himself and needed someone to play with. Asides from all this, what is up with the iconic girl with black hair and red dress? Is it really symbolism for something pure evil?

. detective Maria Bennet .

  The era looks like the early 1900’s. I was a female private detective, by the name of Maria Bennet. That was how I introduced myself at the client’s door. I was with two other people; one man, who looked like my assistant detective, and a woman, who wore a white coat like a doctor. We were investigating the mysterious death of a young woman and her new-born child, upon the inquiry of her father. His name was Dr. Sterngal, a man well-known for his practice and was a man of pure science. But he could not explain rationally his daughter’s cause of death. When we arrived at the home to inspect the body, it was ghastly.

  Her body was pale grey, with a slight blue-purple hue to her skin. The veins in her body were visible and her eyes were wide open, white as the moon and bloodshot at the corners. Her mouth was left open and gaping, as if she were screaming. Her eyes and mouth were too dry and stiff to close, so they had no choice but to leave her as she was. What was even more frightening was that the baby looked exactly the same, but it seemed it was still struggling to live. I don’t remember much what happened after we inspected the mother’s body, but I recall seeing the distraught look on Dr. Sterngal’s face when the baby tried to cry. It sounded more like gurgling wails, like it was choking on its own saliva. Or blood.

As the detective, of probably the occult, I concluded that the girl was the victim of demonic possession. But the goal wasn’t her, rather it was the child the demon was after. The whole thing reminded me too much of the movie ‘The Exorcism of Emily Rose’. Probably what invoked the ‘demonic possession’ Dream in the first place xDD

.: just for us :.

Aster and Fou; Dream 29.03.09

Just thought I'd post up this recent illustration I did of two characters from a Dream long, long ago. One of the earliest Dreams I blogged about even. When I first wrote down the details of what went on in my bobble-of-a-head, the story was not smooth, characters were intangible, things shifted and disappeared and just like any Dream, most of it didn't make any sense. So I rewrote it as a real, concrete story, at the same time experimented with a writing style and plot that still left it vague and surreal. I call it 'Just for Us'.

Enjoy~ And as always, feedback is always appreciated~

. island wedding .

  I’m on a large, tropical island with my Dream fiancé. We were either supposed to get married or we already got married with a beach wedding. All of my friends were there. We were all dining at a restaurant that sat atop of the ocean waters. The restaurant also owned a Ferris wheel so my fiancé and I rode it after dinner. At the top of the wheel, we stopped because another ceremony was going on. Everyone at the restaurant was like a guest at the wedding. But before the priest could finalise the vows and wed them, the bride ran to the edge and jumped into the ocean. We got down from the Ferris wheel asking what happened, the groom just calmly answered, “It’s ok. She probably had cold feet.” The girl might have been a mermaid because when friends and family went to look for her in the water, she was gone.

  Even though we weren’t friends with the bride or groom, I took my fiancé to the shallow waters by the restaurant to look for her. And when we were searching, we found an entrance to the insides of the island under the restaurant. It wasn’t like a huge discovery of a cave or anything adventurous like that. It was actually another tourist attraction where they had a mall constructed in the underbelly of the island. So as we went inside, we went through a long corridor of glass and saw sea creatures swimming on the other side, which meant we were underwater. And the shopping complex under the island was simply HUGE!

Unfortunately the Dream was a short one and it just ended there. Or at least I don’t remember much of it now. An underwater mall; I wonder if it’s actually been built before.

.: late for valentines as well :.

Blueberry and Lime celebrate another Valentines day.

Might as well be late for this one too.

But anyway, don't just save your 'I love Yous' for Valentines day.

You should say it more often, 365 days a year! Why wait?

*~* Hope yall had a great Valentines this year *~*

. 05.08.12 special daughter .

  I'm a little girl, maybe 10 or 11 years of age. Two adults are bringing me to the bank for a day out. I know they're not my parents but I cling tightly to the man. He's young and handsome, with light brown, short, wavy hair and brown eyes. I am more attached to him and I call him 'daddy'. As the adults go ahead to the counters, I wander around observing the other people in the bank. The tellers, the clerks, the other customers, and then the security guards. I notice one in particular. A young African-American man sitting near to where the main counters are. He's just sitting there with his gun and when he smiles at me, I get the most uncomfortable feeling. Then I start to cry. I find the nearest corner and cry hysterically. The woman comes back to check on me and asks me what's wrong. I can't form words but I'm holding the sides of my head as if I have a headache.

  I tell her that something bad is going to happen. And when I look at the security guard again, his eyes have changed. They're no longer smiling. He stands up with his gun and starts shooting the ceiling and soon everyone is down on the floor like me. I think there were other people in disguise like him in the bank but I couldn't see them. All I could see was the man walking up to the counters where daddy was. He was threatening him. Daddy was in trouble. The moment the phoney guard hit daddy's head with his gun, something took over me. I slowly walked up to the man with anger in my eyes. He was about to smack me with his gun but somehow mid-way, his arm couldn't move. In a blink of my eyes, his gun was sliced into two, and all I could say to him was, "Don't hurt my daddy.." Then I grab him by the collar and lift him up, him weighing as light as a feather in my hands. And I threw him at the counters, his body crashing through the glass barriers.

  And after all that, I feel my anger leaving me and my body weak. I fall to the floor unconscious. I feel strong arms cuddle and lift me up. I remember the warmth as he brought my body closer to his. I remember daddy holding me. And then I remember nothing.

  Possibly it was the next day. The adults are dressed in white coats and seated down in a large canteen of some sort with their supervisor. The adults talk while I just sit idly by, eating. "It's remarkable. First she has Level 5 telekenesis, and now she can see the future?" says the woman. Daddy takes a plate full of small buns and gives me a few. I like the buns and happily eat them one by one, dipping them into the saucer of chicken curry nearby. Daddy talks, "She can't see that far into the future, but perhaps just the immediate possibilities according to the situation and time she's in. Call it a sensitive case of farsightedness."

  The adults talk some more and I've long lost my interest. Soon after we're back at 'home' and I spend quality time with daddy. He is sweet, kind, gentle and considerate. Even as we're doing tests, I'm not afraid as long as daddy is around. In the playroom, I draw some pictures and daddy picks one up, "What's happening here, sweetie?"

  "It's me flying, daddy."

  "Hmm can you actually fly, I wonder?" he smiles at me. I take the picture and show him that he and the woman were below on the ground. "You and mommy give me wings so that I can fly, see?" "That's very poetic of you, sweetie. It's very nice." He sits on the floor and cuddles me from behind so I continue showing him pictures.

If it were up to me to continue this story, I'd say that by the time the little girl (whom I shall call Annie) grows into a young woman, or teenager, she'll have developed more mature feelings towards the man. Annie has always felt safe and secure with her fosterfather, and in times of danger she's always capable of protecting him. Despite the 10 years age difference, Annie falls for the man who's always taken care of her, but unfortunately it's one-sided because he only sees her as his fosterdaughter. She'll probably find another 'special' kid they have in the organization, except that he might be someone who doesn't like being cooped up in a super-secret basement. In the end he turns on the organization and the people who have been experimenting on him and escapes. And then Annie will be forced to choose between the boy whom she shares so much in common with, or the man that will never be able to love her back. Dun Dun DUUN!!

.: late for 2013 :.

Hello dearies~ How are you all? I'm not here to welcome 2013 because that would be really late. However I did forget to post up this bit of poem I wrote right on the brink of new years and I thought it'd be nice to share it here as well. Sorry Dreams have been a little slow. Been pretty busy with university, and when it's not university, it's family.

Hope 2013's been good so far to everyone :)

Shifting like the mist that veils the starry night

Gently moving like ripples across the water’s face

We can never change, even with all our might

The time that moves with so much grace

The sands fall, and fade, and they disappear into

the memories of now, and dreams of what may

And though the next dawn brings us something new

We will always have the dusk of yesterday

*~* HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE *~*

Hope you all have a good one! Wishing everyone a lovely ‘nother year of health, happiness and good fortune, God willing and God bless! :)

. 08.05.12 peeves .

  I remember only bits and pieces of how the Dream began. I was traveling somewhere. At first I was with my mom, but then I was surrounded by my group of friends. It looked like we went to some kind of program. The one in charge was a tall middle-aged man. He looked a little Caucasian. I remember he had a distinct broad, square jaw and thinning hair. He wore a dark grey collared shirt and black slacks, and looked like some middle-school teacher. We were minding our own business when suddenly he comes up to us and rudely tells us off, making irrational demands of what we should be doing at the moment. Things we couldn't possibly do at the program or at that period of time, and the way he was barking orders at us really got on my nerves.

  I couldn't stand it. I stood up to face him. I was at his shoulder length, which was weird considering he's supposedly Caucasian, and I looked him in the eyes. I told him off, explaining our situation and exclaiming how he could be so rude. He doesn't listen and shouts even louder, belittling me just because I was a student. He had a roll of newspaper in his hand and was threatening to hit me with it. That was the last straw. As he was waving the newspaper in my face, I grabbed the thick roll of paper – crushing it – and I grabbed the collar of his shirt. I pulled hard till he was inches away from my face. I said, “I dare you to try. I dare you.” He's taken aback but tries to remain his ground. He warns me and threatens me more, while slowly backing away. I just move forward, giving him my best scowl. I was not amused at his behavior.

  He directs his frustration to the other students, my friends, and I get in between them, defending them from his authority. Furious, he continues his insults but I just stepped forward, intimidating him with each step. I taunted him, psyching him the closer I got to him. With my arms out wide, it was like I was saying 'come at me bro, show me what you got!' After the third time, he was finally dissuaded and left us alone. However soon after, I noticed he was having a problem of his own. Some technical difficulties or something with the program, and because of his earlier behavior, no one wanted to help him out. I knew how to help his situation, but I didn't entertain him. I also didn't mock him, even though I thought that problem of his was really simple to solve.

  The next person I had the 'pleasure' of meeting was a student from our group. She was the supervisor for our group for the program, but she was an incompetent leader. She was completely arrogant, bossy, mean, and just downright immature with how she handed people she didn't like. She acted as if she knew what she was doing, but in reality she wasn't doing anything right. She hated admitting mistakes and didn't like people pointing them out as obvious as they were. I don't remember arguing with her, just her horrid personality. Ironically when she encountered some technical problem, just like the teacher earlier, she needed help.

  No one in her clique, like herself, was competent enough to do the job. When she realised I was the only one who could help her, she suddenly became sweet and charming, holding me by the shoulders and calling me her friend. If it's another thing I hate, its two-faced people. But I felt mature enough to help without feeling any ill-will towards her. I just did the work (some technical thingiemajig on the computer) in quiet dignity. Even as she praised me or made jokes, I just didn't entertain her as I normally would people. In the computer room we were in, I noticed there was a child playing on the floor not far from us. I wondered what the child was doing but I didn't approach her till after I was done with the computer.

  I went to the child to see what she was doing on the floor. She was surrounded by a mess of cards, those kinds that kids would collect in packs like Digimon, Pokemon etc. But all of a sudden, the brat screams hyperactive nonsense and throws cards and other toys at me. In real life, I really can't stand bratty children. Those kind of children that have temper tantrums when they don't get what they want, or when they just be downright obnoxious cus they think it's funny. In the Dream, I just felt like I wanted to slap that little kid. She hid under a table and tried throwing the cards at me one by one, like those ninja Shuriken. But her throws were flimsy, and I almost laughed.

  Then I picked up a card and flicked it properly and it hit the table hard, which gave her a shock. I flicked another one and it hit her, I think. That's when she came out from under the table with a yelp. Those cards looked flimsy from the outside, but once you flick it properly, it hits you like a rock. And from some angles, they're really sharp. But instead of running away from me, she came to me asking how I was able to do that with the cards. And instead of slapping the kid silly, I spoke calmly and taught her how to flick the cards properly. It was funny how I could change from utterly frustrated to a relaxed, mature adult; especially when it came to the kid.

Each person I encountered could represent segments of each generation and flaws at which I'm peeved at. The teacher is an older adult, who is supposed to be wiser and more knowledgeable than a person within my stage. However, I get really pissed when older people are still so narrow minded and foolish. What's worse are those that tend to deny whenever they are at fault, especially leading or authority figures.

The girl might represent how angry I am at the declining quality of youth nowadays; how shallow, selfish, and plain stupid we've all become. People my age should be mature adults by now, but some of us are surprisingly as immature as the little girl I met last. The little girl represents the generation under me; how naïve and stubborn they are regarding the life around them. Many have lost the good old-fashioned family values, becoming spoiled little brats who don't know the meaning of hard work.

But then, I still have hope for them. It is the responsibility of my generation to take care of them and teach them about life, and not to repeat the same mistakes. I still have hope for the next generation, and I will do my best to do my share.

. 23.03.12 wolves .

  The whole Dreamworld was white; covered in snow and ice. Shimmers of black trees surrounding me; some dead, some Fir still semi-buried in the white and standing tall. I'm dressed in a thick coat and heavy military snow-boots; my face buried in the black scarf I wore on the inside of my hood. My gloved hands packing a sniper rifle by my side, as I stare into the distance of the tundra lands before me. At first I'm standing on a rooftop. As I descend back into the building, I find myself in a base of some kind with many others dressed like me. Each of them packing heat, though different sizes and types. I was one of the few snipers they had.

  I sit myself at the window. We're at the second floor of the base and I position my rifle where it should be. I scan the perimeter, anticipating something. The base stirs. Someone got a signal from one of ours nearby; them and their team on the outside. While the others move, I stay put. I don't leave the scope of my sniper. I keep watch. Soon I see some others exit the building below and stand their ground, guarding the base. As if something was approaching any time now.

  And then..... I saw movement.

  White wolves started charging from the cover of the black forest. Shots are fired and blood speckled the snow in minutes. I fired at the large, beautiful beasts regrettably. Wolves were one of my favorite animals. But these were no ordinary wolves. We were sent to this research base to protect it, so the people that belonged to it would continue their search for answers. There was a Canine parasite going around, making the wolves more aggressive than usual; almost rabid. The way they attacked, it was erratic. It seemed like they were even stronger, being able to tear human limbs apart.

  I had to shoot each wolf at least twice to put them down. A few of us were injured and we didn't know whether or not the parasite had any effect on humans. They were sent underground to the labs for medical attention and research. We didn't want any zombie cases to happen, and we wouldn't risk it. When the coast is clear, I go downstairs and outside to help my teammates clear the bodies. I look at the wolves; so majestic. I was sad I had to kill them.

  But then all of a sudden, one of the scientist's dogs started going berserk. He and his friend had to hold him down as he injected some prototype cure for the parasite. But the dog was getting too haywire. I didn't have my sniper with me but a normal rifle and I aimed at the dog's head, as it swayed violently from side to side, ready to gnash anything and everything. But the scientist told me to stand down and wait for the cure to take some effect. It wasn't showing any effect from my perspective. I kept my gun at the ready. The scientist was upset, I could understand. It was his dog. He didn't want to lose him to the parasite. He and his teammate were yelling, arguing some sense into each other when the dog bit into and tore off one of his fingers. Even with a bleeding hand, he still held on to the dog to keep him still, well enough for me to take the shot. And I did.

Poor dog. It was sad when I had to kill all those white wolves. They were so beautiful. And the poor scientist guy. He really loved his dog. I remember it well; it was a handsome, jet-black Labrador. But after the Dream ended, I wondered to myself instead of using bullets, why didn't we just use really strong tranquilizer? Wouldn't that be easier? Unless of course, the canines were already zombies and if that wouldn't take any effect, then I would understand.