Two days ago i dreamt that Dad, Mom, Brother and I were off for a short trip to Ho Chinh Minh City, with a setting similar to Hong Kong – upon the first step out of the airport, Dad flagged for a cab into the city. At 11 pm the first thing Dad wanted was a hearty bowl of noodles, as one would crave for Wanton noodles in Hong Kong – but in Vietnam, Pho is in.
Strangely i don’t know how, or why, but i got onto a bicycle riding through dark alleys while my parents settled for the little restaurant near where we were staying. – was it creepy? i don’t exactly remember, but everything was dark, damp and perhaps, but i seemed to be okay with it.
Perhaps in dreams fear was timeless, and they were but fluid. Fear was but smoke.
And then the alarm rang: i couldn’t wake up. Probably, a mysterious dream was more enticing than the idea of returning into mad rush, mundane routines and obligatory human interactions.