Shepherded through a massive crowd

Time is short as I weave in and out

I think of nothing but the desperate rush I am in

Until a bewitching face flashes past

Headed in the opposite direction

Her eyes shine out from beneath her veil

Glowing as she pushes something: a pram or a stretcher

She is so familiar to me but I am unrecognised

There is no eye contact

Nor the slightest acknowledgment 

As if we weren’t supposed to meet yet in this alternate life

My aides grow impatient

Many shoulders bump into mine

My wild and hurried steps now tamed

And just like that she is gone

Lost in the flock and hidden from my sight

The job at hand turns insignificant as she, now, is my urgency

With you shivering in my arms

But am I committed?

Well that depends

My arms aren’t strong

And we flee too slowly

Your illuminated image of me

Turning ever darker 

From now on I will be blogging about the vivid dreams I have, as quickly as possible, before the lingering images fade away forever. The following is from this morning:

~~~

Helpful, beautiful employee

Your hair tied up;

Your friendly demeanour:

I am somehow smitten

You approach me as you would an old friend

Welcoming me in

I see a future for us, while you’re busy

pasting stickers on my arms

Swimmer

You live through your art

It is a part of you

Within and outside, flowing

What makes you is what makes you happy

~~~~~

Actor

You grasp at both ends of my emotions

And fling them outward in feigned joy

I am shocked and surprised at your power

To convince me of your performance

But also knowing for certain that it is all an act

Again, names have been XXX’d out where appropriate. I am pleased with the content so far, and it won’t be long now before the first chapter, or pilot, will be ready in its entirety. Thank you to Hunter Red for the comment in the last post: from someone I don’t know! It drives me on, so cheers for the feedback.

Unpublished Work © 2009 Will Ooi. All Rights Reserved

I close my eyes and doze off, my consciousness declining as I lay, uncomfortably, on the makeshift stained mattress XXXX  has provided me with. As my thoughts drift off into abstract shapes and ideals, once again I feel like I am suspended in the air, floating in the midst of the brightness of white light. My body hangs limply as I take in this familiar environment of white. It’s almost as if I am observing myself from a third person perspective. “This better not be the hospital again,” I think to myself, but as I look around I see that there there are no nurses, no patients, no stitches hanging off crude steel instruments. No smell of generic disinfectant; in fact there is no smell at all, actually. I look back over to study ‘myself’.  My face is calm, tranquil. I am resolved, it seems. The clothes I am wearing are no longer soaked in rain or blood. My hair is dry. I know I am dreaming. I feel a surge of euphoria rush through my body as I re-enter myself, and when I open my eyes I am looking out directly through them: I am back in my own head.

My breaths are slow and deep, and with each one it feels like I am gasping for life, and yet there is no panic. No raised heartbeat.

The white around me begins to change, swirling with purple and black colours. What appears to be a whirlwind materialises underneath me, gaining in momentum as an invisible wind drags it around in circles. My body starts to float down, through these clouds. I appear to be travelling at a fast speed, the wind rustling through my hair and clothes, yet I needn’t worry about covering my eyes: I see it all in true clarity.

As I plummet down through the seemingly endless congregation of purple and black clouds, I hear a voice. It is deep and soothing, and the sound of it booms through my very being. It is a familiar voice, even though I am sure I have never heard it before. It’s almost as if I am an infant being cradled in the arms of my mother. My mother…before I can think too long about this, words rumble through the air.

“XXXX,” it says, in neither a male nor female tone.

“XXXX….XXXX,” slowly and repeatedly, with the longings of lost friend or family member from bygone years, now reacquainted.

“You have done well, XXXX. You have done your purpose well.”

“What have I done?” I ask immediately, without even thinking.

“You saved her. You were put there to save her, and you did it.”

The little girl. I see her face in front of me, pale, with scars. Her expression is one of neutrality.

“But I don’t understand, I don’t understand what’s going on,” I plead, out into the clouds as the little girl’s face disappears.

“You will, XXXX. You will understand.” The voice is now distinctly female, but not one I can connect to anybody I have met so far.

There are so many questions in my head, and in trying to decide which one to ask first I simply confuse myself.

“Then…who am I? And who are you?” I manage to splutter out, my voice getting just a little desperate.

The voice goes silent. It is making me wait, and I begin to fall faster and faster. I am starting to panic.

“You are who I made you to be. And I am the one who made you. You are mine,” comes the response, cryptically, and this time in a male voice. What the fuck? I am his/hers/whatever/whoever the fuck this is?

Not exactly the sort of answer I was after, but what concerns me the most now is the fact that I have fully entered free fall, and the feeling of tranquility is long gone. I pass through the clouds and see the city, the same city that I have by now become accustomed to, with all its grime and discomfort, below me. Rooftops like little rectangles and squares, slowly and ever increasing in size. Then, suddenly, the fear. The surrounding silence turns loud, and I am falling and begin to scream but no sound comes out of my mouth. I cannot move my body, falling helplessly with speed. “No…no!” I am thinking in my head, feeling as if I am being held down head-first, forced to witness my own demise by some cruel and torturous being. The comforting knowledge that I am participating in a dream is now gone. This is real…it feels absolutely real.

I see a familiar building on my way down, with a high pointed tower. A church. My church. As my eyes determine that I am headed straight for the tip of the tower, I scream again, and this time it resonates. I let off a terrifying, blood-curdling scream as a white flash stings my eyes.

…

I leap up, shouting and sweating. I feel much warmer than I just did, in my sleep state. What a helluva dream that was. My breathing is just as it had been moments earlier, heavy and deep, but this time I feel my pulse pumping in my neck. I look around and feel grateful that I am here, of all places: inside the church, and not impaled on its spire. My conditions may not be pristine, but I am safe. At least for now. I hope I haven’t woken up XXXX.

I lie back down and try to go back to sleep, thinking about what just happened, and what its significance is. The voice is stil ringing in my head, as I repeat the words that were said to me. “You are who I made you to be…You are mine” What does that even mean? Was it a dream, or a memory? My mother or father?

A cockroach crawls past slowly, unafraid of my presence as I lay back down and curl up on the mattress. It’s as if it can sense I’m feeling a bit too fucked up right now to threaten its life. I control my breathing and calm myself down. As messed up as whatever it was that just happened was, at least even if I don’t know who I am exactly, I now know that someone else out there, he or she or whatever it is, does. My eyes tire and I hope that my soon-to-be unconscious state will just consist of nothing. No more dreams, please. Just dark. Dark will do fine.

So here, below, is what I scribbled down frantically and illegibly on a ripped-out piece of notepad paper before the image faded away. Names have been XXX’d out and it is gender neutral, just so these thoughts aren’t limited to just me or the characters.

Unpublished Work © 2009 Will Ooi. All Rights Reserved

I care about you, XXXX, and I care about you enough to be able to tell you about myself, and about how I’ve become the person I am today. I can tell you everything.

When I was with XXXXXXXX all I felt – and in hindsight this feeling was probably, definitely, influenced by how smitten I was at the time – was love. And it was love, undeniably, even if I have questioned it many times since…

…and for him/her to just flick the switch like that and do what he/she did, in the blink of an eye with no hesitation or any prior warning, that was just… so hurtful of him/her.

I feel comfortable around you, XXXX. I like it when we talk. But even now, as I tell you about these things, I have this feeling I need to describe to you. It’s an image. A vision, even, it came to me one morning, when I was somewhere between a dream and awake, and ever since I haven’t been able to forget it.

It feels like I’m walking alone on a pier by the water at night, pitch black. I am tip-toeing on one edge and holding out my arms to balance myself, and the further forward along the pier I go the narrower it becomes. And when I reach the very end I am perched up, needing to remain as lifelessly still as possible to prevent myself from falling from the tiniest little stand that remains: my only options are to either go back the way I came, having my path grow back in size as I return, or to take the plunge into the sea with no idea of how rough or cold the water is.

That’s the image I get when I think of you, XXXX. You and me. This connection of ours. And I’ve been trying to work out what this image, or vision or whatever it is, is trying to say: if I turn around and go back, does that mean I’m retracing my steps; returning to my comfort zone and doing what comes naturally to me? But if I choose the other option and jump into the water, does that mean I’m going against my own sensibilities, taking the risk? But the more I think about this situation… it all changes when I forget about the pier and the water and the darkness and just focus on you, XXXX… if jumping in means you, then I would. In an instant.

Unpublished Work © 2009 Will Ooi. All Rights Reserved

Call of Duty 2

My dream of CoD2 came after a long night spent playing LAN with a few friends, beginning at about 9.30pm and ending at 2.30am. I have not gamed like that since maybe GTA San Andreas, and needless to say it was rather inevitable that all my thoughts that night would be a psychosomatic continuation of team deathmatch and capture the flag. Only that I was playing these modes in my dreams against various people I have met throughout my life and either ‘zooming in’ on old school bullies or yelling out “cover me” to favourite high school teachers, all people I have not met or heard from for at least 5 years. I seem to dream a lot about the people I have met previously, but never in a FPS context. Strange.

Dream Analysis Theories

Mourning lost relationships. Hmm I’m not sure. I, like anyone else, would have their favourite school teachers and friends from the past who we;ve lost contact with, and to dream of them has got to be normal. People move on and you get on with life right? I reckon this was just a random dream without any real significance regarding past relationships. But I must admit, chasing down your old nemesis and rifle-butting him is pretty satisfying.

Playing too much. Obviously a 5-hour straight session of any game is gonna screw with your mind. But if 5 hours is bad, imagine what was going through the mind of that guy who played for 50 (?) hours without sleeping and died? And the rest of those WoW gamers? I’d go nuts if my dreams had elves and dwarves in them, but too much game time is potentially dangerous to the mind for sure. Getting warmer.

Keeping up dem rifle skills! Yes, I was on a roll that night and all my single-bolt rifle shots and fancy jump-shots were hitting their intended targets. On such a roll, in fact, that I had to keep on shooting through the night, as you do.

The Sims 2

What not to do when playing The Sims (or any other game for that matter): get emotionally attached to the characters. Why? Because if you do, this is bound to get you while you sleep. With the original game you could start a family but your kids would stay kids. In the sequel though they took it to the next level: an endless cycle of life which I had to, after declaring my independence from this addiction, put a stop to by uninstalling everything and giving the CD away to some poor soul unlucky enough to count me as a friend. I would always start the game by living a nice bachelor lifestyle, meaning that I’d make myself comfortable in a small house but one which was decked out with the best furniture and technology. Until I got married, that is. Or should I say until I got married and had 6 kids. That is the really freaky part about The Sims: seeing your likeness on your virtual sons and daughters. My Sims-related dreams have been numerous and not-too-savoury. One of them was about me holding my new-born infant daughter, staring into her eyes and saying “she’s beautiful!” This was happening in the game, that is, instead of an avatar of me it was really me: I was stuck in The Sims. Another weird dream I can barely remember featured fire: this time it was about rescuing my virtual family from a burning Sims house (which I had designed myself by drawing up the floorplans in real life, a process that took far longer than it really should have) and yet I would constantly get trapped by falling debris while trying to help my kids escape. Now I reckon the ‘burning house’ scenario is a common nightmare theme, but surely not burning Sim houses. With children who are meant to be yours but who do not exist in real life. Sick.

Dream Analysis Theories

Fear related to a loved one. I want to clarify something: when I played this game, I did not base any characters on people I know in real life. Apart from me of course, but that’s a given. Therefore any attachment I form with these Sims people is entirely separate from real life. And so a fear about a loved one could not be a valid theory, as I am essentially detached from my virtual family as opposed to my real family. (Notice how I am desperately trying to prove how un-sad I am with Mickey Mouse reasoning?)

Dislike of children. 6 kids is a lot, even for a game. I adopted 2 and four were with my Sims wife …ok I’m sad I admit it. I do like real kids but don’t plan to have any quite yet. Definitely not 6 anyway.

Fear of fire. As mentioned in Part I, I was once a young casual backyard pyromaniac so fire should not be a problem. And I learned from the game…buy a smoke alarm to protect your family, especially when little Cindy begins cooking as a hobby.

Fear of fire from crappy TV shows. Ever watch Home & Away? Probably not, because it’s an Aussie show that is a bit like Neighbours, which I used to watch as a kid and as far as I’m aware it is only broadcast internationally to the UK. Anyway, the story is all about different families and the random things that happen to them, and one very old episode featured a character having a nightmare about a house burning down which later came to life. This episode freaked me out, not so much the fire part, but because he was trapped behind bars which had been installed in the windows. So yeah, this show is the cause. Nothing at all to do with my unhealthy obsession with the game.

Doom

The most vivid dream I have had in my life, ever. Here’s the description, if you can be bothered reading it: I am in an all-white room that somewhat resembles a hotel room. There is a large bed, bedside table and lamp, all white. Bright white light is shining in through the window. It isn’t a very large room, and it is shaped like a cube with approximate 5×5x5 metre dimensions with a balcony. When I go out on this balcony all there is in the distance is a wide open space, and the horizon is the one out of Doom…you know that semi-2D/3D scrolling pixellated glitchy background that always remained ‘flat’ no matter how you tried to move around it? It was like that. As I peered over the balcony into this Doom horizon, I felt like something dangerous was coming. I could feel it, and yet I cannot see what this thing is that is chasing me. But I know I have to run. On the balcony there is a Ghostbusters-like pole with a hole which I can slide down to escape, and I do this very quickly and can feel the butterflies in my stomach. At the bottom the white light disappears and it is all dark, but somehow I know where I am and where to go. From here I keep running, and eventually my path takes me into an abandoned and extremely damaged wooden cabin of some sort which resembles the remains of a shipwreck, only without the furniture or the water – just the splintered and black wood. And that thing is still coming; I can hear its footsteps getting louder and faster. And then the dream ends. I wake up with a mixture of emotions, but am mainly just confused.

Dream Analysis Theories

Dislike of white rooms. I’m quite okay with white rooms. They’re bright and quite peaceful, as opposed to a blood red room.

Fear of being chased. Maybe. But then everybody hates being chased. Unless it’s by gorgeous members of the opposite sex. But whatever it was that was chasing me in this dream, it certainly was not Phoebe Cates, Jennifer Connolly, or Rachel Weisz.

Fear of graphical glitches. That Doom background was well dodgy, I mean it was a 3D game with 2D sprites, so something had to give. And glitches can be scary, like the blue hell one in GTAIII or getting ’stuck’ in any 3D game. But honestly how could a simple glitchy backdrop like that lead to such crazy visions, where the heck does that come from?

Tetris

The first time we played Tetris I’m sure that many of us would dream about falling blocks and line-clearing on the first night. I am also sure that this would happen more than once: perhaps lasting a whole week. Fairly normal I would imagine. What wasn’t normal and became downright disturbing was when I began having dreadful nightmares involving me somehow being ‘in the game’ in a very non-intended way: running around helplessly on the bottom of the screen, inside a big three-dimensional space and the blocks are falling far too quickly and I cannot clear them in time. It was really frightening and I would wake up covered in cliched sweat. It was like the ‘falling’ dream only the blocks were falling on me.

Dream Analysis Theories

I feel stressed in real life. This is usually a sound theory, but what does a 10 year old kid who just got an original Game Boy have to stress about?

Dislike of the Music. Hmm the music was okay and not very scary at all, but I preferred Type 2 over the default tune.

Dislike of onion-shaped buildings. Remember those? I found those Siberian towers quite scary at the time, but not enough to have nightmares over.

Dislike of interlocking shapes. That’s more like it. The pieces in Tetris I dislike the most are the zig-zag letter S looking one and its mirror-image brother. I can’t explain why but I really don’t like that shape. I was okay with the T-shaped one, the L-shaped one is not too shabby either, loved the square one and adored the long piece. Turns out they didn’t like me back.

Command & Conquer

My copy of the original C&C was on the Saturn, and I would get stuck on a GDI level where you first encounter the NOD flame tank. This darned snail-looking thing would wipe out my crew unfairly quickly and I had attempted the level so many frustrating times that I just gave up. Thus, the dreams began. At first they involved re-enactments of my failings, and then they would get nicer with my conquering of the enemy only for me to wake up and find that nothing had changed. Eventually though, the flame tank would infiltrate my normal dreams and chase me around while I was busy, I dunno, flying around a forest or picking up supermodels, and morph these lovely imaginings into full-blown nightmares. ‘Hello Cindy Crawford, why of course I would like to take you out on a da…ARGHHH!!!’ SWOOSH BURN SIZZLE. Eventually thanks to the help/strategies of a school friend who was good at these RTS games I finished the level (albeit by exploiting poor AI by building a wall around my units so that the enemy wasn’t smart enough to destroy it, and then me) and the nightmares stopped – at the cost of never being able to play the next levels properly because of the aforementioned tactical cheats.

Dream Analysis Theories

A fear of fire. No, being a teenage boy susceptible to bouts of pyromania, fire was fun and I would quite often burn twigs in the backyard with a bucket of water next to me in case it got out of hand. I came prepared for possible shortcomings in my teenage behavioural menaces.

Dislike of the pressures of micromanagement. I was okay with multitasking and getting my units to follow my orders, even if they couldn’t quite run away quickly enough from the engulfing flames of hell. Even using a control pad instead of a mouse was pretty easy after a little while.

Dislike of failure. This is probably true. No one likes to fail in what they do, whether it be work-related or socially linked. The flame tank sure was hurting my pride and I couldn’t hack it…so I started battling it in the unconscious whilst performing my repertoire of suave moves in the company of beautiful ladies.

Championship/Football Manager

This game is a real danger to society, or at least the members of society who enjoy following football (or ’soccer’, as it shouldn’t be called). Anyway for those unfamiliar the game is mostly stats-based so any third persons viewing you from a distance would think that there isn’t that much action to speak of, certainly not enough to warrant the groans of disappointment and screams of joy – all natural reactions in CM/FM, especially as the earlier versions only had primitive text commentaries on a match’s progress. ‘Bergkamp passes forward’…’But the move comes to nothing’ etc. But golly this game was addictive – you had to trade players, come up with new and useful tactics for different opposition, and basically just make your team the best there is.

My interest in the series really took off when playing with a mate online via our dial-up modem connections such that I was even offered a bribe to sell one of my key players (30 million pounds in-game and 20 dollars in real life – I declined it. Had it gone up to $50 I would have thought about it). Dream-wise, this game would disturb me through the night by constantly allowing the opposition to score against me in the last minute, or, failing that, giving my players unfair red cards (things which would often happen during real life play too). The modern game has a 2D overview of the match action and this has led to dreams of frightening swarms of dots engulfing the penalty area…it was only a matter of time before we let in a goal. And it really was ‘we’ – your team was your livelihood and everyone was in this together. While this was nightmarish in ways only football fans can relate to, there were also pleasant dreams such as landing Zinedine Zidane on a free transfer, finding a truly world-class 16 year-old player who could be developed, and me accepting that bribe. The only way to beat it? Select Uninstall from the Start Menu.

Dream Analysis Theories

Taking sport too seriously. The only explanation, and no real surprises there. Every fanatical sports fan is bound to have the occasional unconscious adventure about their favourite team, and these management games took it to a more scary and noticeable level through its perfect capturing of the game as well as its gratuitous use of stats.