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santianna

Singapore

SG Since 2004

Followers 1625 Following 669

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Friday Sep 08, 2006

Sep 8, 2006
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I dreamt about a very beautiful boy that I used to know when I was a child (I haven't seen him since I was 10). He was quite tall and lean in the dream, and got tricked into having "I'm a drunk, I'm a loser, I want to rape you, I want to fuck you" tattooed across his torso He was also very good at drawing things. He made a movie about a mexican in a sombero having a drink in his living room, with a ring of dancing candles for company, and it was a joyful piece. But he was a very sad person, and I watched ihis little film many times, and I felt envious that he could draw so well. But also sad, because he was so beautiful, but he seemed to think it mattered that he had those words tattooed on his chest.

We were on a train that never stopped moving, and none of us ever got off it, although we knew where exactly we had to get off. It was an island, where we would go diving, and I was afraid that the train should reach our destination, because the weather was very bad. It had a station to stop at, once a day, and every seven days, he'd get off and buy me a present that was a comb and a pencil, and I thought it was very throughful of him, because I kept on using up my pencils, and I kept on using my combs as rulers (rulers didn't exist in this world because in real life I actually have a really bad habit of forgetting my rulers), and the combs got dirty quickly.

He could become extremely violent when he wanted to, and he beat up some of the other people on the train that became, in a rather distant way, my friends. They were all jealous that he could draw so well and they couldn't, and his tattoo gave them a reason to be rude and hurtful towards him. He starting beating them up, and I got very angry and frightened and sad, and there was nothing I could do about it. Because I didn't dare talk to him about it, and I started to think he was an awful person because he was so violent.

He still bought me the pencil and the comb, and I finally asked him why he still did that, and he said it was because I was still his friend. I wanted to say more, but he walked away, and I went to watch another thing that he had drawn. It was beautiful and his line style was so delicate and smooth and curved and natural. He had gentle hands, and I wondered how it was possible he could be so violent.

I went to find him, it was late in the evening, and the sun was setting behind a drab horizon broken by uniform blocks of flats, flashing in the windows of the train as I walked up away from where I was used to being, into another carriage. His carriage. People there was much less nasty to him, they didn't talk to him mich, but they talked to him politely, sometimes, and they loved his work. They were all gone to another place, and he was quite alone.

I went up to him and pulled up his shirt. He did not resist, and let me peel it all off. The four lines of demeaning text were indeed tattooed harshly on his torso, covered by piece of medical gauze that stuck to him like cling film. I peeled it off, and asked him why it was such a big deal. They were just words. I found it easy to ignore them. He shrugged his shoulders. I held him for a long time, my face against those words, and I didn't understand why he was all these things, but the only thing people noticed were the mistakes written on him.

***

Richard's company is in dire straits again, and his ex-wife (who is also the company's biggest client) might just be about to leave her job. We were talking about it, and he said it would be funny if I got to work under her someday (she was a great animator in her time -that was about 10 years ago, when she was still animating, before she turned to producing and managing creative, as opposed to doing it herself).

I told him I would love to. Why should it matter that they were once together? It botheres everyone -his family, my parents- except the three of us. She's glad I made him happy after the marriage failed, I'm glad she's a very good creative (which is very rare in Singapore) and she generates fun work, and he's glad because she's still friends with him, and I'm with him. So we're all good, and I don't give shit about the state, and I don't see why they should 'sort out' their marriage. Because iot is sorted out, except on paper. And what business is it for the state to intefere into people's personal affairs.
ambientlight:
Very tripazoidal dream, filled with some very meaningful imagery. I am tempted to offer interpetation, but I won't, except to say this... that even in the midst of revulsion you can express compassion, even if it is just a dream. Hmmm...

I wish Richard an upswing in his buisness... buisness is prone to cycles of vacilation. I hope his looks up soon.

As far as the state goes... I think it is the function of any government or societal entity to complicate the simple, through interference & intrusion. Good luck with all that, 'cause governments are under the impression that it is their right, nay their duty... to fuck with our lives.
Sep 8, 2006
mingol:
This is Singapore - it's the government's business to interfere in everyone's personal affairs! tongue

You've described your dream beautifully. It made me a little sad to read it. I found myself relating to the guy. A lot of people I know seem to be posting about strange dreams these days.
Sep 8, 2006

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