. 25.08.19 Simon Baker .

The dream started with me walking barefoot in a parking lot. It's dark and people had just come out to enjoy the night. I can leap great distances and I was feeling melancholic for some reason, considering climbing buildings and landscapes to help me feel better. I walk towards the first building I see and it's a shopping complex. I scale the walls till I reach the second floor and snuck in through an entrance.

Inside, there was a large room that looked like the inside of a cathedral. There were pews all around but an old Malay man was giving the sermon and a mixture of people were listening to him. I walked in, paying more attention to the walls and wondering how I could climb them.

As I got close to one side of the room, a blonde man called out to me as if we've met before. I believe we have, but in another dream. He looked like Simon Baker and I called him Dr. for some reason but I can't remember what he specialized in. I just remember he was an academician and came to Malaysia a lot, sought after for his expertise and to speak at talks. Today, he was sitting in the pew but didn't look like he was paying attention anymore.

I sat next to him and asked how he was doing since we last met. He said he was fine. He then asked how it went with the guy. Apparently in my previous dream with Simon Baker, I told him I had gone to see my then-boyfriend knowing he was going to break up with me. I smiled and shrugged but just before I could reply, an elderly lady wearing a headscarf started scolding us for being unmarried and sitting so closely with each other.

We were both put off by this so I got up to leave, and Simon followed. We decided to grab something to eat (and it was suddenly morning). We found a quaint little cafe and sat at an outside table. We both ordered a similar platter (something with eggs) and continued catching up.

"Oh yeah, what were we saying before we were interrupted?" we paused for a moment, then I remembered. "Ah yes! The guy. Well, it went the way I expected. We talked. He said what he needed to say and then we went our separate ways."

"That's rough," said Dr. Simon Baker.

"One less thing to worry about," I replied, obviously no longer hurt by a past relationship. "I'm sorry if I asked this before but I don't remember - why do you visit Malaysia a lot? You travel everywhere but I see you here most often. Why is that?"

I didn't realize he had a mouthful of egg and was rushing to respond.

"Chew & swallow first before you answer," I said, afraid he could choke. He laughed.

"I don't know.. It's just.. The weather's so unpredictable. Compare it to places like Newcastle, there's just so much going on around here all the time."

"So do a lot of other places. So why here?"

He hesitates a little before answering. "No friends or family here."

"..Feels like one day you just wanna run away to here? And never go back?"

He doesn't answer verbally this time but a pair of Philippino guys behind us in black leather jackets were goofing around, saying 'yes' loudly though they had no idea of our conversation. After the men passed us by, Simon Baker turned back to me smiling. "They answered my question."

A very odd dream but I'm glad I can have dreams about my ex without breaking down crying or feeling heartache in the morning. At least I had the handsome Dr. Simon Baker comforting me over breakfast.

.: taking the bus :.

Just thought I'd post this illustration of another old Dream, 'Taking the bus'. I wish I had the time to do something with these characters, but for now they serve as a light of inspiration for what could have been. For a bigger preview, see it on my deviantart here!

.: still alive :.

Hello lovelies~

I know it's been a while since the last Dream post, but things have been hectic in real life. I graduated with my Psychology degree in February and have been trucking along, job-hunting and doing what I can do help my parents.

Things haven't been easy back home, what with the national scandal, the rising prices of everything and anything, the yellow shirts and red shirts. It's all been topsy turvy, and we're doing what we can to get by.

My hard drive went fried a while back and I lost a good bit of stuff, such as art and some pages of Dream journal. I salvaged what I could, but there are a few Dreams I need to rewrite. Because I've been tired and stressed out, I haven't been able to remember my Dreams like I used to. But I'm trying to get back into it, and will update when I have something really interesting to share.

I'd like to think that over time my writing skills have improved, so I'm thankful for that. Now I can write these Dreams down like actual bits of proses and short stories. I have actually plucked a few Dreams to rewrite and upload on my Wattpad, like 'A girl in a grey world' and 'Poor Harriet'.

And now you can find them and read them easily on Wattpad! Along with these illustrations of mine. Click here to check them out!

I have been working as a part-time lecturer at my university, which took up a whole lot of my time. And right now I'm gearing up for an interview for a one year contract as a full timer so I might not have a lot of free time once that actually pulls through. And I hope it does, cus it pays well! Haha but this post was just to advertise my Wattpad and to let you know I'm still alive~ And I will continue to update this blog, albeit slowly.

So if you've stuck around, reader, thank you so much. Hope you've been enjoying your stay so far. And as always, have a nice day/night and God bless!

-Love, Dyana.

. 05.02.14 drug doll .

I can no longer remember what I look like. Some days, I am pale with skin the color of pasty wallpaper and eyes as blue as a dingy bar’s neon lights.  Other days, I am flushed with red cheeks and glowing eyes of amber and beer bottles, and a ballerina’s step. One thing is for sure though, I am a walking drugstore. That is what I remember the most. That, and his smile.

Let me start over.

I am a walking drugstore. My bodily fluids have become chemicals people are starting to get addicted to. From my blood, to my sweat and tears, they sample me in the most undignified ways. They keep me around like a pet or livestock to be milked. I am a living doll, built with no other purpose but to be tied to a heater in the pharmacy’s back room and fill vials and needles when people come in for their fix.

I am a living doll, and I was slowly breaking.

At first it was no big deal. I’m not human, at least not entirely. I felt no pain when they first started taking samples. It started with simple blood transfusions. Patients and clients alike would inject my blood into their arms and streams, or shoot them up like cocaine. But the addiction progressively became worse, and people started to want more and more.

They would shoot up the chemicals in a variety of places. Beneath their toenails, their sclera, the veins on the underside of their tongue. One night a customer came in and needed a needle through his eyeball, though no one needed to tell him that both his eyes were as bloodshot as beets. They, my handlers, decided that they would use the same fluids from my eyeballs for this valued customer. And for the first time in my inanimated life, I felt afraid.

I suffered the surgery.

When it was done, I was kept in a secluded room to ‘heal’ or replenish what I’d lost in the darkness. This dark room was a tiny thing at the farther most back of the hellish clinic, right next to the back door. My room, of course, was locked. There was however a tiny window in my door where my handlers would slide open to check on me.

One night, while I was still recuperating in the darkness, I heard the little window slide. It was however not my handler, but a face I’d never seen before. He was not a regular either. In fact, he looked rather lost. He needed only seconds to process that I was in fact a prisoner he had found by coincidence and made it his mission to free me. I stared absent-mindedly as he tried the lock but bolted out of there the moment he opened the heavy door, and I took my hand in his the whole time I ran.

We were out in the wild streets, running and running till our legs felt like they could give out. Running till we felt like no more shadows were looming over our heads, or breathing down our necks. And then, in that part of unchartered city, it began to pour. Having found some shelter, the man –my rescuer– seemed upset at the rate things were turning out. He apologized about the fact that we were caught up in this wet mess and now that we were lost without a plan. He looked pained, as if he had failed before we had even begun anything.

I said nothing as I hugged him, pulling his drenched body close to mine. I hug him with my pasty wallpaper arms, as my cracked lips kiss him then and there. In a voice that didn’t even sound like my own, I said unto him that I would rather be here in this mess with him than back at that merciless sty.

I pull away and look up at him, burning the image of his smile into my memory. And it was that very night I found that I had fallen for his taste.

Oh my God it has been forever since my last update on this blog and I am so so sorry. Things have been busy ever since I graduated this February. Things have been topsy turvy, and I’ve just been all over the place trying to reorganize my life and be a productive member of society. That said, I haven’t been keeping note of my Dreams as of late and that kinda makes me sad. Even though I’m using this new app on my phone called Dreamboard, which makes it easier for me to document them the moment I wake up. The fact of it is, I just haven’t been remembering them as of late. And the ones I do remember aren’t eventful enough for me to write about. Anyways! Here’s a new Dream to add to the journal! If you’ve stuck around since the beginning of this blog, I’d just like to say thank you so much for your patience and I hope you still enjoy my content~

. corpse party .

  I can't quite remember how my persona looks like in this Dream, but I remember I was with two other girls and boys. One girl was a hazlenut brunette, with shoulder-length, layered hair and she was a bit of a bitch. The other had a bit of an Asian feature (since the other was Caucasian) with long, elbow-length, raven hair. She had a sweet disposition and clung to me like a friend would. There were two boys; one, tall African-American with a bit of a fro, and one normal, built guy with short, dark hair and teal eyes.

  We were investigating a cursed Japanese school after hearing reports of recent hauntings. We were already knee-deep in shit once we realized we couldn't back out. Just like the famous manga, Corpse Party Blood Covered, there were bodies strewn everywhere, organs and blood decorating the halls and floors. We were trapped in the school by supernatural forces, making it impossible for us to escape.

  My Asian friend was a bigger wreck than the rest of us, and she clung to me for emotional support. I was steadfast in leading the team for some reason, and I kept encouraging everyone to keep on going no matter what. The girls walked ahead and the boys kept watch from behind. We had been walking around for a while now, the halls and levels of the school continuously changing like a maze. We were getting tired, and needed a place to rest.

  Out of nowhere, a large sliding door appeared in the hallway and upon moving it open, we found a perfectly kept bedroom. The room was not too large and not too small, with a queen sized bed in its middle. It was made up of two mattresses so we figured we could move one to the floor for the boys to sleep while the girls took the bed. We quickly barricaded ourselves in the room, to keep out unwanted visitors, and looked around.

  Upon closer inspection, one of the blankets was full of maggots. We immediately threw that one aside and figured we'd sleep without any. While me and my friend were shaking off the sheets of dust and unwanted mites, the brunette was trying to make some moves on the dark-haired boy - which annoyed me greatly. Not only was this not the time for such nonsense, but I think in the Dream the boy and I have a sort of past.

  In the Dream, I was attracted to the boy but we weren't in a relationship whatsoever; just close friends. In the Dream however, the backstory is that we both had feelings for each other but had yet to tell the other. And now, this was the last place I wanted to think about those sort of things.  Apparently the girl was suggesting to the boy that they find another room to sleep in as this one was too small and cramped, and that just made me madder.

  The boy was in an awkward position and instead of giving her a straight answer, he shuffled his way over to me asking, "Can I talk to you for a second..? Alone?"

  I was so irritated, I snapped back at him without realizing, "If you wanna frick-frack, go find someplace else. Just don't frick-frack here!" I was actually mad at the girl, but unfortunately I took it out on the guy. Luckily, because I had brought it out in the open, I had shut the girl up and stopped her nonsense before it even began. The boy, though upset I snapped at him, looked grateful he was saved.

I really did not like that girl. I was also very creeped out by all the dead bodies in the school, and how dark it was, but thank goodness nothing chased us throughout the Dream. I have to stop reading that manga before bedtime.

. 18.12.13 an eye for an eye .

  I was a 15-year-old homeless kid, living on the streets with an older woman I called 'mom' and an older girl named Sarah, whom I treated and loved like a sister. We were hobos basically, living on the streets, relying only on ourselves and our wits to survive. Though I was the kid, I was the caretaker of the group. For some reason I was skilled in fighting, and I protected my family.

  One day, we return to an old neighborhood of mine. I had history in this particular neighborhood, and before I could avoid it, it had already caught up to me. Suddenly the three of us were shuffled into this big mansion by a group of gangsters, all dressed in black leather. Inside, I recognized the owner of the house. He was a man, who looked near his mid-thirties, and was dressed in all white. Besides his oldest son, who was 14-years-old and with the gangsters who herded us before, he also had a number of adopted children. Some were toddlers and the rest were no older than 7.

  His cronies brought us to him as he played with the children in the den. He brings up the past, subtly telling me that now he had captured me, he was going to get his revenge. He had been waiting for a long time now, but he was patient and it showed in his calm demeanor. Flashbacks erupted in my head, and I saw a small boy with black, wavy hair and a wide smile. And I felt so sad, my heart wanted to break because I knew that the child was long dead.

  "I'm so sorry.. I didn't mean to... It was an accident! He was the only friend I ever had then, I would never hurt him.." I was on the verge of tears.

  Apparently his youngest son, Sam, and I were close friends when we were younger. But he died in a terrible accident an d his father blamed me for his death. His older son never knew about him, probably due to memory suppression, and was lost during our conversation. But after hearing my pleas, he wondered if I really was innocent or not. The doubt showed on his face, especially when his father seemed adamant in getting his revenge on me.

  The man in white opened up a door to a very derelict room and told me to go in. It looked like an abandoned child's playroom; ropes and hooks hung from the ceiling, toys in clutters and disguised as torture devices. I went in and he locked me in total darkness. I hid myself in murky bedsheets and covers under the dusty bed, lying in wait and letting my eyes adjust to the dark. I anticipated thugs to come in after me to finish the job, but for some reason the man in white left me alone. Somehow he thought that I had suffocated from something inside the room, and that I'd passed out or died.

  Either way, the door of the room was now unguarded and so I escaped. I went upstairs to find my 'family' and found that they were taken hostage in the dining area. Mom and Sarah sat terrified beside each other at the long, dining table, while the gangsters stood at all sides of the room. All the gangsters were armed. Some were seated at the table, some just stood around joking. The son was there too, and only now I realized how much he resembled Sam. I really didn't want to hurt him unless I really needed to. I didn't mind killing the gangsters though.

  I stealthily searched the other rooms for weapons. I went into the master's bedroom and found a wall full of firearms. I was awestruck and excited to use them. I took a small automatic machine gun and two automatic pistols, and I was so ready to fuck shit up.

Unfortunately before I reached the dining room, I woke up. But I supposed I saved my 'family' in the end, though not as smoothly as I would've hoped. I would've killed most of the gangsters by the time my ammo ran out. I would get caught by the man in white again, but this time he threatened to kill my 'family'. I'd give myself up for their lives because they had absolutely nothing to with Sam's death. "Killing me won't bring Sam back! As much as I wish it would, I know it won't happen too!" I could imagine myself saying.

Maybe the second son would believe me and understand that it wasn't my fault. He would stand up to his father and admit that he had taken things too far for too long. He saves my life and lets me and my 'family' go. And if he wanted to join our 'family', we would be more than happy to welcome him.

. 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.