I am starting to crave nightmares. I think I am learning to fall in love with them.
The other day, I dreamed about water: loud, sprinkling water. It wasn’t a magnificent, resounding wave; it came in splatters and splashes, like drizzles on my skin.
In the dream, I am suddenly thrown into a vast piece of barren land. It is arid and humid, and eerily silent. I smell the fetor of a storm on the way. I let the silence seep into my pores.
Suddenly, I make a run for it. For what? I don’t know, I cannot put a finger as to exactly what I am running towards, who I am running towards. I just know I am running with this intangible, hazy yet fervid resolve in mind. This desire to run, to chug down fresh air into my lungs, to unleash the pail of blood that I have been balancing at the top of my mind into the rest of my body, to feel alive, is gradually becoming overwhelmingly fervent, it is eating into my skin. Yet, I love the sensation of this burning desire, I am euphoric, almost enchanted by this alien, abrupt confrontation of adrenaline.
Suddenly, there are drizzles on my skin. Bit by bit, more and more, cascading off the soles of my feet as I sprint faster and faster across this parched land.
Suddenly, water pelts down. The downpour unleashes a torrent of needles that liquefy at the surface of my skin, searing through mercilessly, entering my bloodstream seamlessly.
Suddenly, I awake within my dream. I’m on the floor now, the water running through my uniform aimlessly, into the drain. My eyes are open, but all I see is darkness. I hear sounds, muffled sounds. I cannot make out what he is saying, but it ricochets off the walls of this enclosed space that seem to be caving in on me.
Suddenly, water hits me like splatters and splashes, and I realise I have been closing my eyes all along. I cannot seem to find fresh air to chug down anymore, I accidentally spill the pail of blood I have been vigilantly balancing at the top of my mind all over the floor.
No, this is not a dream, I am not dreaming, this seems all too real for it to be a dream.
Suddenly, I remember to gasp for air. I am gasping desperately, yet, deep down, I feel this sense of tranquility blooming in the soil of the depths of my heart. I am immediately reminded of the barren land that I was, and still am, sprinting across with a surreal ecstasy.
My eyes shot open. Sunlight streamed through my window.
Suddenly, I realised that he had been watering the grounds of this parched land all along. What I was running towards, I finally know;
I was running towards freedom.
That was one of the best nightmares I had in a while. It was not a dream — it was a bittersweet reality.