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| 05 September 2010 |
| Hildan Knightmares |
FADE IN INT. JJ'S BED - NIGHT Sleep no more! Nothing beats the feeling of writing essays in solitude after midnight. What is there to wake up to and look forward to in the morning? Uninteresting and hardly beneficial lessons? The bedroom has become a dark place where daydreams are replaced with nightmares. Really horrible nightmares. Is sleep but a creative outlet to play out my worst fears? Such as a killer A-Level H2 Literature paper, with the Proof essay question being "Does Claire love her family?" and a Disgrace essay question about the Byron opera. In the nightmare paper, the poem was in a foreign language. French, I think. French is all Greek to me. The A-Level H2 Maths killer paper in another nightmare had all questions in English. But I blanked out, so the mathematical symbols were all Greek to me. For in fact, the sigma is a Greek letter. I grabbed my graphic calculator and pressed the On button. The thing had run out of batteries. Five minutes of failed attempts to turn the thing on. Five minutes of frustration and finally, failure. I hurled the calculator in the air. It landed hard on Cherry's head. She began to cry. Then the calculator hit the floor and caused an earthquake. The next night, I had another nightmare, about results release day. That I scored a 20. Not an O-Level L1R5 of 20. 20 A-Level points out of 90 (one A and Us for all the other subjects). Crying, I took a bus to Tampines Block 812, a place that holds many memories. I took the lift, then the staircase, to the top storey. I jumped and while falling, shouted "LOOK, I'M FLYING!" As I landed hard on the ground, instead of dying, I woke up. Had leg cramp. Ouch! I winced in pain, tossing and turning on my bed as I tried to straighten my leg. Then I felt a tingling sensation and numbness in my left arm. Like Clive Linley in Amsterdam by Ian McEwan (one of my set texts). When Clive had that tingling sensation, he worried that he was going to die, like Molly. So did I. Ridiculous thoughts! The upcoming A-Levels are not my only source of nightmares. I had one where I was sitting at my void deck and was surrounded by all my friends. Normally that should make me happy. But they ganged up on me. They grabbed me and carried me to a strange place, where they threw me into a huge box and locked it. The box was filled with trash and full of insects. It was very dark inside. Then I heard a very loud noise and the box started moving up and up at a high speed. Another nightmare was about something that virtually all Singaporean males worry about. National Service. Though they say army buddies stick together for life, my nightmare camp had this group of gangsters who kept physically assaulting me and a gay guy, who also tried to sexually harass me. My sucky superiors sabotaged me with extra work as they thought I was slow and stupid. One day, I could no longer tolerate my suffering and went berserk. I shot the gangsters, gay guy, superiors and everyone within sight. Soon I was surrounded by highly trained officers who demanded I surrender. I pointed my gun upwards, towards my chin, and pulled the trigger. My head flew off my body and hit the ceiling, splashing the entire room with blood. Last but not least, going to FASS would be a dream come true, but one night, I was reminded that adapting to life there could be a nightmare if I am not well prepared. Without friends like Robben and Gab to mix with, I could be picked on by highlifers who make me drink alcohol until I got really drunk, vomitted uncontrollably and said stupid stuff. In the nightmare, the day after, a video of me drunk, vomitting and saying stupid stuff became a YouTube meme. Why are nightmares called nightmares? Mares are horses. Maybe I get so many nightmares because knights ride on horses? Anyway, time for me to sleep; hope I have a good night and not a bad night plagued by nightmares! FADE OUT |
# > J.L.W.S. The Special One moved a piece and punched the clock @ 00:42  
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