These Dreams

Exactly two days before the Nursing Licensure results are released, Skeleton Collector dreamt that he got to check my examination papers and that he gave me a failing mark. He said that he has done everything imaginable to alter my grades but in the end, I still got a rating extremely unacceptable by any standards.

In reality I only got a failing mark ONCE in my Biochemistry exam when I got a score of 6 out of a 15-item-post-test. I was not at all alarmed when I learned that I still got the highest mark among our batch of 487 students.

I almost went into a coronary as I was reading Skeleton’s comments. It was definitely not the most appropriate time to hear another anxiety-provoking story as the board results will be posted in a matter of a few days. The only thing that kept me at peace the entire time --- the absence of the words “Licensure Examinations for Nurses” on the paper Skeleton Collector was checking.

Two days later, I received the good news that I passed the freaking exams. Thence I got into the hasty generalization that dreams are just reality on the contrary.



For three consecutive nights, I have been dreaming of, and about, my ex-lover. It was extremely lucid and vivid that I could recall every insignificant detail in my dream --- every circumstance, every person involved, every line of the conversation, everything. I guess it wouldn’t come as a surprise when I told my good friends that I’m sort of missing him since I saw him a few weeks back and I gave him the coldest treatment by not even looking at his face.

Freud’s psychoanalytic psychology postulates that our dreams contain our most intimate wishes. Jungian influence tells us that dreams symbolize a cognisant representation, depicting an emotion or a memory so repressed, so distressing that the unconscious compensates it in fantasy.

Since my dreams about my ex-lover mostly show myself chasing after him, I think it would be safe to say that I still might have feelings for him (in my dreams, at the very least) just repressed into the deep recesses of my memory. When I saw him the other week, I couldn’t feel anymore ecstatic, my pulse is racing so fast, butterflies keep on rambling in my stomach, my palms perpetually sweating, my eyes in uncontrollable gazes. My body reacting contradictorily to what my heart, and my mind is trying to convey me.

Last night I told myself that if I dreamt of him once again, I will try to rebuild the bridge that I once burned. The heavy downpour of rain seemed to aptly coincide with my peaceful slumber.

In my dream, I’m still in three strokes under par. I’m in a prestigious 18-hole golf course in Hong Kong, playing golf with my closest buddies. The rain ruined my perfectly-executed game, and my college classmates watched me intently, and fervently, as I was taking a shower, in my naked glory, of course.

And this time, I no longer need psychoanalysis to tell me what to do. =)