The Dream of Tents and Goldfish

Met with my dad last night for a dinner in a longgg time. And I'd almost forgotten what the in-front-of-papa behaviour should be. One lapse and then it was back to the Mask. I've realised that like all adults hardened with life and therefore so sure of their own experiences, my dad doesn't listen to me. He just doesn't. Everytime we talk, there's always something wrong with me: I've put on weight. I haven't visited my second aunt who's stricken with cancer. I need to get my driving confidence back. I should find a job. I should find a job overseas. The list goes on. Sure I know he just wants the best for me and supports me financially, but I always wonder how well does he know me... or maybe, does he even want to know me at all? He's changed a lot, mellowed out a little recently, but I'm still the child, the errant one needing guidance and that never changes. I don't think he realises how much that attitude makes me want to run away and do the exact opposite of whatever he says to do. Because maybe that way I'll get his attention huh... Sometimes I wish I could be like Shouren and just really do whatever I want to do: Like clam up and ignore everybody, and just shoot whatever shit I want to from my mouth. But no, because I'm the eldest girl, I have to be the adult, and the sensible one. But, you're not treating me like an adult!

This is so tiring. Suddenly, ever than before in the past few days, I know so clearly why I want to work overseas.

This morning before I woke up I had the strangest dream... a dream where I, and somebody else - I'm not sure who - kept leaving and returning, leaving and returning, leaving and returning... to this white tent that was set up with chairs and benches, and personal belongings of duffel bags at the foot of each 'space'. And I kept going back... as if I had forgotten something, as if there was something I really wanted to say... but each time I went back, I never said a word. We never said a word. It was... oppressive at the tent really. And then eventually one notices that there's a pond slightly behind the tent area and the waters were murky but if you looked hard enough, you could see silvery white and blue, and silvery black goldfish. I suddenly realise that they've been there each time I've went back, but had started out as tiny royal blue fish, darting around in the water... Nearby there was a table to put things upon, but closer inspection yields that its legs are broken and thus were of no use.

What a sad, puzzling dream. Sigh.


~ st*rcr*ss*d ~