Posted in Thoughts by Sandra on October 4, 2008

It started off pleasantly enough. We were in a large, wood-panelled room with a high ceiling and modern-styled fixtures. The door wasn’t secure at all, but no one would enter without knocking anyway. I could see the light from the corridor outside filtering in through the rather large gap between door and floor. There were books, and you were in the attached washroom. I could hear you splashing the water on your face (though in reality you’d sooner just jump into the shower cubicle. Saves the trouble of having to keep your clothes clean).

I was snuggled in the comforter, warm in the air-conditioned room.

Then I told you I had to leave.

Now I’m in the car. Uncle W was driving, and mum upfront next to him. He pulled into a carpark surrounded by low, old 4-storey flats, and got out, saying he’d be back soon, he just needs to get something. After he left, I told my mum I’ll go find a friend, and get something from him. I’ll be quick.

So I get out, and walk calmly. Once I’m in the shadows, I start sprinting.

After 2 blocks, I see a building which looks remarkably like yours. Up the stairs, the omni-present air-conditioning blasting into my face, and I realized in the spacious corridor that this wasn’t your building – it’s the next one, and I’ve made this mistake before.

On my way there I see my mother trying to find me, so I slow my steps, and try to blend into the darkness of night. But somehow, as I enter the open lobby of your building, my mother sees me, and is there in a flash.

“Why’re you doing this to me? To yourself? He’s not worth throwing everything away for – you’re always planning your life to love. You’ll never find it now anyway, you’re not old enough.”

I pull away, shaking my head in disagreement. She sighs, her voice cracks, and she abruptly turns, to sit upon the sofa against the bamboo walls.

This time I slink around the perimeter outside, and enter by the side entrance, which is directly next to the stairs. I go slowly, afraid that she would see me going ahead with my folly anyway.

Up on the second level now, I knocked quietly on the first door – the furthest from the stairs, The sound of feet stumbling, then a sleepy-eyed Asian lady peering blearily at me, hugging a bolster.

“I’m sorry, I got the wrong door.”

“You’re not her.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, and turned away. This time, I pay close attention to the shoes just visible in the gap between door and floor. Door 2 had high heels, and so did Door 3, closest to the corridor. I went to the last room, directly opposite Door 1. The door was ajar, and I peaked in. I see a rather “male” suitcase on the bed, and relief floods through me. Then I noticed the yellow pumps on the side-table, and my heart sinks.

I could call you. I called you on my cellphone, and ask where you are.

“Have they cleared my room out yet?”

“You room? Clear?”


“Where are you? I see all these rooms with ladies in them…”

“I’m not with another woman,” you sounded harried. “Please kitten, you know me, you have to believe me.”

I stay silent. I don’t know what to say, I think. I trust him, but there’s a fear that I’m only his plaything, despite the fact that he has come to my country (in the dream, anyway), and rented a room to stay for sometime. But when I’m not with him, does he invite others in…?

“Just wait there for me, I’ll be there soon.”

Then I wake up.

I lay in the perspiration-inducing sunlight, the heat and humidity getting to my nerves.

And I think, neither of us deserves my fear and distrust of myself.

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