how the world ended

this morning i woke up in a mess of tears and panic: it was already 11am, i had things to do, and dinner plans later.

but what really shook me most was the realisation i’d been asleep; my dreams had been so achingly vivid. i think i’d woken up a couple of times between nine and eleven, but these were momentary lapses — i’d fall right back to sleep in seconds and my dream sequence would just patch right back up, prolonging the nightmare, worsening the fear.

i dreamt of rain and floods that swallowed whole houses. people dying. supplies and mementos getting lost in torrents. CNN wasn’t covering the story. my family and most friends refused to believe the rest of us when we pleaded to evacuate. nobody had a plan. there was no strategy but to scramble at the last moment and pray to survive.

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last night, in slumber, steam & fog: the heat of a sauna, lilting pressure of an indoor onsen, atmosphere of a volcanic hot spring — clarity underwater, but above the surface a heavy, dense mass. cypress leaves amongst fallen red plum petals, gathered and clenched, scattered like hushed brushwork against an open liquid canvas of warmth and transparency. this was liberation: to wear my own skin and feel the earth, amassed by the elements whispering around, breathe, breathe, breathe, and everything was lifted, and i was still.


i used to post about my dreamscape but the collection slunk away with late nights as its displacer. i’ve always felt most connected to the world through my dreams, as if they linked Self with Entirety. i do think there’s power in imagination and in our subconsciousness, and i’ve always felt incredibly delusional / overly dreamy when i say this, but i do believe in magic to an extent!! and i definitely believe in the supernatural so!! spirituality and esotericism roots do pervade my sense of being to various degrees.

but ah, dreams — i love dreams. they are perhaps the most intimate of my internal universes. they weave together the most objectively obtuse yet intuitively comprehensible emotions and ideas i indeed sensualise and indulge in, because i advocate the haphazardness and primitive sin of dreaming. i love exploring my dreamscape. i always have. when i was little i used to lucid dream so much and so intensely, and the thing is, i never knew lucid dreaming wasn’t normal till i came across the term when i was much older, and realised most people typically weren’t aware that they were dreaming and if so weren’t able to manipulate what was going on in their dreamscapes. and i still do lucid dream sometimes, these days, but like i said i don’t go into enough REM phases to really dream properly.

last night though, i was struck by a really convincing dream — it wasn’t a lucid one this time — that really just reignited my appreciation for my dreamscape and the power of subconsciousness, and made me think that i should really go back to sleeping more for the sake of dreaming, like i used to do a couple of years ago during one of those self-exploration phases (though, arguably, does self-exploration ever end? perhaps i actually mean peak of self-exploration… i digress). the dream itself wasn’t incredibly extraordinary or thought-provoking, but the emotions it brought me through compensated for the lack thereof i’ve been (not-)experiencing in real time. and it was so real, so personal, so honest & raw, so uninhibited, unadulterated, alive, aflame — i wish in some (read: many) ways my life embodied that ferocity of feeling. of complete guilty submission to wants, to details, to Essence.

i love that dreams give me the opportunity to draw inspiration from emotions and experiences i’ve never felt and been through. i shall pen them down more.


navigate my posts

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This master post has been pinned to the top of my blog. Updated occasionally. All posts under each appropriate heading are tagged and sorted into their respective categories accordingly (click the headings to be redirected). Some posts overlap. Constantly in the process of further re-organisation. Please be patient!

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ohh, mr sandman

dreams used to be a special sweetness i craved, for they would dissolve on the tip of my tongue like sugar cubes, but of late these little luxuries have grown scarce; i am neither frequently blessed with fantastical indulgence, nor met with nightmares.

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