Alive, in the dead

Oh, mother. All the countries we ever saw on the television, they are all the landscapes of my imagination, my dreams. Even cemeteries. Last night i couldn’t sleep – but when i did, i dreamt of meetings with people – ghosts of the past – and floaters who drift in and out of the current life.

We got off the bus, and walked towards the bushed area – before arriving at:
The graveyard. ‘Twas a playground my old ‘friend’, now but a ghost of the past, took me to. It was dead silent at first: as i scanned my surroundings and slowly processed the environment i was in – which seemed altogether like a mixture of cultures in this one graveyard: there were the Western graves guarded by statues of reaper, goddess, angels, and crosses. Then there were the chunky blocks of marbles – the kinds you see on the plots of land, scattered, in Vietnam. There were the Chinese mahjong-looking aisles – but outdoors, alongside the Western and Vietnamese ones. Then there were the Hong Kong influenced ones, of never ending rows, mini housed shelters for the urns. And the ones you would see along the Singapore highways, those still around and yet to have been uprooted – only that they were enlarged, perhaps 2 meters in height. It was creepy initially, with echoes of children laughing through the labyrinth amongst the dead. As if things weren’t already peculiar: i found myself running and waltzing, in twirls around the graveyard – spinning, trying my best not to break anything or knock into any of the ancient collections.

More than half a day has gone since having awoke from this slumber, but it seems odd… that i was dancing, and dancing with the dead. I wasn’t calling Saturn, nor did it seem to scare me – just puzzled.

“If we had all the money for a lifetime,”
” – you will never see me again, Muller. I’d be all over the world, and i’d never come back;” “yes – i don’t think i ever would.”

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