A Dream, A Letter and A Song

Dear D,

I dreamed of you again last night. Well, 'again' after a long, long time. It's been a while since I had you in my mind, or my dream. Not sure why after such a long absence you had decided to walk into my dream again.

They say dreams are a manifestation of your thoughts during the day. I didn't recall thinking of you lately, not consciously anyway. Maybe it's the way it has been raining these past few days.

As in the past few days, today the rain was right on cue to close off a hot tropical day, shortly after the world has pulled on its blankets of stars and moon. However, the stellar decorations are nowhere to be seen these few nights. As silently as a bird flying across the sky, and as softly as the feather touches, the rain arrived, much to our delights. Accompanied by the cooling night breeze, the change in atmosphere does make one feel sentimental.

'Rain is the sound of missing you' - that's the words that had really etched into my heart a few days ago when I was watching a movie. Perhaps the rain had reminded me of you, or how I miss you.

It was a good dream. You know how we always wake up from dreams when it reaches the highlight? The highlight of my dream? Us holding hands.

I can't recall most of the details of the dream. Maybe it had brought us back to where we first met. Maybe it had played back the times when we fight over your dream and my dream. Maybe it had brought me back to the times when we played a joke on the old man at the grocery store, or the time we went biking during the rain by the beach ... The dream was fuzzy with all these mixed emotions. But I vividly remember this - us holding hand. It's funny how at that moment, the excitement and butterflies when our hands first held each other was mixed into the feelings of warmth and contentment from the moments after. And there's a surging sense of happiness of seeing you again to counter with the underlying sadness of missing you. Whatever the outcome, I guess the feeling was too overwhelming for the dream to continue. And these sensations have lingered from the moment I woke up until now.

I was a bit downcast in the morning, missing you I guess. Although it was no way near as sad as the day that you left. But it was heavy nonetheless, like a cloud hanging heavy low above me. But by the end of the day, the cloud dispersed. Happier memories have slowly and silently crept back into my thoughts. Much like how you crept behind me trying to scare me in those days. Remember? I smiled at that thought, along with the sunshine, laughters, us skipping and dancing, in the rain, under the hot sun ... and your smile. In the end, my feet was going tap, tap-tap, tap, tap ... tap, tap-tap, tap, tap ... as lightly as walking on clouds.

I've been wearing a smile ever since the song started playing in my ears again ...

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Fast Forward

I am over forty years old, but I wish I was eighty ... no, sixty years old now.

These few years will probably be the happiest time of my life. There's a steady, but could be better, income, and no short to medium term worries about food, clothings or accommodation. I still have my health in good condition, although I am starting to feel that certain screws and nuts within me are starting to loosen. I'm not an ambitious man, so all is fine. I'm happy. Most importantly, I have a lovely family with two adorable kids who, I think, also adores me. By this last blessing alone, I can easily declare that this will be the happiest time of my life.

I'm living in probably the happiest time of my life, yet I cannot fully enjoy it.

Like a swarm of flies, problems and worries, work related or otherwise, would not stop buzzing irritatingly around my head. There are no major issues, they won't kill me and they are not anything that I cannot solve, and I accept them as parts and parcels of life like I accept laughters and sunshines. But their ever-presence and persistence are annoying.

It's easy to say 'The gem cannot be polished without friction nor man without trials', or 'Adversities are the spices of life', or 'The art of living lies less in eliminating our troubles than in growing with them', or 'Rock bottom is good solid ground, and a dead end street is just a place to turn around', or simply 'Don't worry, be happy'. All valid, and all I truly believe. They all work. But, still, easier said than done. It takes times to turn the mentality around and turn those pests into solid grounds, or gems, or spices, or artistic works. And if it takes longer than my patience, I will start to get frustrated.

I'm at the happiest stage of my life, and I want to enjoy it! Fully. Totally. Completely. Every single day. Maybe I am asking too much from life.

As each day passes, I am slowly heading out of my current stage of life towards the next, which will probably be less enjoyable. I want to enjoy my life now as much as possible. In addition to the realisation that 40's is not young anymore, I am a bit desperate. I don't want these problems and worries hanging low above me blocking my full view of a clear blue sky. They might not turn into a storm, or they might get blown away, but nobody can focus in the present for ever without looking up once in a while and ponder upon the future.

Childhood was good. All we do is wake up, eat, play, eat some more, play a little bit more and sleep. Carefree. Adolescence was fantastic - friends, parties, outings, crushes. Vibrant. Early stage of adulthood was great - everyday was an adventure, every step was a new frontier conquered. Exciting. Ah ... great time. Happy time. Enjoyable time. Upon hind sight.

Looking back, reluctance to study during childhood seems petty; peer pressure during adolescence appears insignificant; job worries during early adulthood looks immaterial. Looking back, all seems rosy. But, of course, these problems and worries were as heavy then as the problems and worries that I'm facing now. In retrospect, they are weightless.

So, it would seem that to really enjoy and truly appreciate my present life, I need to be in my 60's this instant and live my life in the 40's now.

Of course, by the time I really get to 60 years old, I would probably wish that I was 80 years old. And at 80's, maybe I would wish that I was dead.

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Time Is Of Essence

There are posts and there are posts.

There is this post that is trying to decipher the codes of life, and this post that's drawing a picture.

This post is trying to solve a murder mystery.

This post was woven out of threads of fiction, and this post was plucked from the ethereality of Zen. There is also this post about the 'H' word.

Not forgetting this post that is brimming with parental love.

And there's even a post about Entrecards in the old days, and a few on how I used to thank my top droppers back then.

There are so many posts here, each and every one my favourite. And each and every one is, ahem, worth a visit.

But this post is here because of my last post, which if read on any other day than the day it was published, would be less relevant.

This post is here to banish my last post into the posts of the past.

And it gives me a chance to hard-sell my older posts. Buying?

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That's It!

Enough is enough.

I’ve always used this blog to satisfy my desire to be creative, and I rarely put in any real emotions, or use this space to reveal my true self. But this post, for a change, will fill with my real-life rants and what I think of my marriage and my wife. Tsk, my wife.

I’ve been married to this woman for thirteen years. And that’s twelve years too long. The first year was great. Everyday seemed like an adventure, every moment together was filled with warmth and tingling with joy, and every night was a standing ovation for a great day. No regret.

But then things started to change.

Looking back, I do play a part in the whole situation. Back then, my business wasn’t going smoothly. But doesn’t every new business face its ups and downs? Perhaps it’s the lack of time spent together, or perhaps it was the lack of financial security, but loving glances started to mix with contempt; gentle touches started to harden with coldness; intimate conversation was turning into fights.

Perhaps I was too busy with my business, or perhaps I was still too deep in love, as the fight revolved around issues that were pettier by the days, it suddenly hit me last week. That and my finding that our savings in our joint account was left with a balance of a few thousands. At its peak, the balance in the account was at two hundred thousands. What a fool!

This woman not only took away my times, my emotions, and now my money! I should have noticed, all the expensive handbags, the expanding wardrobe, the premium gym’s membership, the vacation trips to Europe with her friends … What a fool!

Dang! Fool! I’m my wife’s Fool!

And my wife’s name is April.

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