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if songs could be held....

The morning I'd woken up with a call from my mom. Took a good one hour to listen to the family gossips she had to deliver, boy I miss talking to her. Whenever she gives me a call, she'll first deliver what's best to listen, and end the conversation with a piece of advice. Always the same one.

I had the strangest dream last night. I recollect myself being on the streets of Malacca, walking past a funeral of a man, a picture hung on the wall above his head, so familiar, yet never had I seen before. However it seems like there's a close connection with him, skinny and wrinkly solitary hermit lying on the white sheath beneath him. As I was walking closer to give my respect, he grabbed hold of my leg, as if frantically trying to get me close to tell me something. I retracted away and was woken up with the buzz of the phone. It got me thinking for a good 10 minutes before I went back to sleep. What did it mean? Am I suppose to be cautious of something? someone? watchful for old people? or is death creeping close? it's never a good sign to dream of death. Dreams don't make the slightest sense at times, and most times they happen when something or someone crosses your mind, either consciously or subconsciously.

I'm listening away to Ryan Adams, "In My Time of Need". Time's 2.02 in the afternoon, and the semester's over. Time to recluse from the buzzling streets of collegetown, where local students haggle away in their little pieces on cloths and pointy heels, asian students bundle up like cozy polar bears. Random note. Pretty soon the streets will be baron again.


( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Dec. 20th, 2009 02:46 am (UTC)
once my mom had a 20-minute conversation with me over skype about killing a cockroach she found in her room that day.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )

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