oh beautiful sunset, beautiful man

we sat in a restaurant filled with many people. the interior was lush and extravagant. velvet drapes filled each window space and candeleras were lit even though the evening was early and we still had the beauty of the afternoon sun coming through the window panes.

in front of us was a feast for kings and queens. i came late to the table, and was astonished to find that the waiters and waitresses wanted me to have the best, despite my tardiness. they filled my place at the table with the same dishes that had tickled the stomachs of my tablemates, and more. piling onto my dish, they added vines of large juicy purple grapes and cuts of blue cheese -- mm my favourite!

i tackled the soup with vigour. such love and devotion put into a culinary creation! i love chowder and the chef had outdone himself with the herbs and spices that went into this platter of exquisite sensory delectable. too quickly the soup was gone and so i embarked next on the fruits and cheeses.

the shift in the tilt of the sun was what distracted me. i looked up, and saw that the sun was sitting on the top of the hill. the light shone, a soft golden hue that bathed the faces of those in the restaurant. on the hillside, the sculptures of the boy and the dog shimmered, seeming to dance in the warmth of the goden light that shone upon them.

such beauty cannot be replicated in another hour, so i gathered up my camera and beckoned for one of my tablemates to join me. he is a small old man, wearing a plain grey vest over a villager's clothing because the occasion demands for wardrobe out of the ordinary. out of place as much as i am, he looked relieved to leave the stiff decorum demanded by such an establishment at the table.

the cool evening breeze ruffled our hair and broke the tension imposed by the social rules of the restaurant. i felt it melting away, and judging by his strides, he probably felt the same too. we chatted for a moment by the statue of the boy and his dog.

what we said, i would never remember, but what will stay in my mind for as long as i have memories is when he hiked up the hill side to bid good 'eve to the dipping sun.

as he turned toward the golden rays, i reached for my camera, took aim and shot. the profile he had against the still vibrant blue sky, lighter where the sun was but growing into what would be a dark starry night towards the cosmos, showed off an aristocracy that could not be hidden by the plainest of clothing worn by the villagers.

his strides were confident, no longer the ambling awkward steps of a man unsettled by the interior opulency of an establishment designed to give the impression of abundancy.

in nature, he was the true king, and his demeanour matched the elevated status that his kingdom is giving him.

yes, i want to make my nose red, i said as the rest of the tattooing continues around my body.

i'm lying on my back with my legs straddled, the full body tattooing process in the way. my family members circle around me - namely my brother and my father - clicking their tongues in disapproval, but i go ahead anyways. why should i seek their approval? it's my body, after all.

the tattoo artist is tamara nowakowsky from queen enterprises. she has her head down, busy working on the part of left leg. but finally, she is done, and i am able to stand up to observe.

maybe i shouldn't have gotten my face tattooed, i mumble as i look in the mirror. i look like a clown, i moan tragically.

sachi tries to clean around my face.

wait, wait, she says as she brushes me with her feather duster. don't move around so much. i have to get that spot around your eyes.

i don't like the face part, sachi, i say to her. do you think they can remove it?

why, oh why didn't i ask to see tamara's portfolio? i would have chosen someone else.

i walk back to the tattoo store. does brian work here anymore? i ask the person behind the counter. he looks me up and down.

brian does work from his own home now, he says before looking back down at his magazine.

damn, damn DAMN! i thought to myself. NOW what am i going to do?

no matter where i looked, there was water everywhere.

the rocking sensations created by ten-foot waves made me feel like i was on a roller coast ... a roller coaster without a safety bar. the thrill was exhilarating but so was the fear. what if i am thrown overboard? my inherent fear of the deep blue sea resurfaced in such a rush, i felt almost nauseous. wind and raindrops on my face, i gripped onto the sidebar of the tiny sailboat so tightly, the arterial veins of my knuckles became almost as white as snow.

just hang in there, i mutter to myself.

i wish there was somebody here to help! looking around the impossibly stormy seascape, i forced the panic out of my mind and focused.

focused on the thoughts of my own comfortable bed...
focused on snuggling under my bedcovers.

wake up, jeanie, wake up!

with a startle, i realised i'm awake...and i'm still swaying.

the whole house is swaying!
what a storm that is!

the creaking sideposts makes me wonder, somewhat sleepily, what would happen if something gave.

a few moments of swaying after, the winds seems to die down. and the house settles back onto its foundation, done for the night.

what a night!

kittens and tuna

it started with one little meow, originating from the corner. it was soft, but woke me up anyways. slightly groggy, i looked, but couldn't locate its origin. it sounded like it was searching for something, somewhere, the meowing interjected with sounds of scratching, like a nose inching its way along the corner where the wall meets the floor. i fumble around for the light, but couldn't find it. in the meantime, the scratching sound has stopped - the meowing continues intermittently - amidst my attempts to illuminate the darkness. it sounds like a few kittens, no longer one.

is that something wet i feel on my toe? i peer down and feel a wave fall over the top of my calves. a wave? the juxtaposition of the cold wetness versus bedcover-warmth startle me out of sleep. is that the sound of waves? do i smell the ocean? the meowing disappears amidst the lapping of the waves. i clutch at my bedcovers in an absurd attempt to keep dry.

something dark passes under my bed, which is floating in an ocean of water in a seemingly normal fashion. i should be perplexed but am considering instead in a oddly calm way that the shape has something important to say. a splash occurs in the distance; i look up and see that the shape has emerged its head above water in the form of a tuna fish. or what i think is a tuna fish. after all, i have never seen a tuna fish before. nor have i ever spoken to one, with the exception of this night.

good morning says the tuna to me.

guten morgen i mumble back. it seems natural that i should respond in german.

close your eyes says the tuna as he jumps back into the water with a splash.

i cover my face instinctively ... and wake up to a mouthful of bedcover.

erin, you've shrunk!

i couldn’t believe my eyes as she walked up before me. her hair was short and blonde, and she wasn’t as skinny as before, but she definitely didn’t look like she had just had kids.

hi jeanie she said with a grin on her face.

erin! i couldn’t help but exclaim, you've shrunk!

yup! she smiled with a twinkle in her eye.

so, how was the birth?

twins! she proudly proclaimed.

twins?! i was amazed. boys or girls?

a boy and a girl, she smiled with motherhood pride. one of each.

i laughed. exactly what you have always wanted.

crabs + ice cream

get that crab! i yelled as the gigantic killer crab slid from dad’s grasp and tumbled into the ocean. all i could envision were children being eaten alive by the gigantic killer crab. it was huge. the foreclaws could easily snap a spindly leg in two.

but it was too late; the crab had disappeared from sight. the sense of panic rising in my chest was gigantic. i couldn’t believe that now, i had to dredge the ocean for this crab.

and that was what i did for a long time. dredging. always coming up with false hopes, but there were remnants of the crab’s feast. thank goodness those remnants were not of children. i fear for the children.

in the hunt, i bumped into the prince, who looked strangely like ferris bueller aka matthew broderick. he and i had an instant rapport. he was there with his wife and daughter, but we soon left them in search of ice cream. he was attracted to me, i could tell. in my dream i was clad in a shimmering and silky sari, wrapped around my hips, and wearing a bikini top that no man could resist. not that i was trying to charm him. in fact, i was trying my hardest to ignore him. perhaps that was what drew him to me. the fact that i didn’t idolise him and give him the attention that he has been used to.

my two assistants, jodi and another girl, tagged along. we went along the hawker centre until we reached the ice cream stand. he ordered a vanilla ice cream bar, loaded with sprinkles and chocolate and fudge. i decided to go for something else, something laden with little m-and-m bits, but it turned out to be a disappointment, so i tried another thing, much like his.

mmmmmmm yum!

in our dreams we live our lives
those lives that we are too afraid to live,
or think that we do not deserve.

in those dreams, we live.