Relating the details of your dream to someone is almost like torturing them. No one really wants to know what you dreamed last night.
*squeals in a bimbo voice*
But OH last night I had just the weirdest dream! I SO have got to tell you about it!
Okay, so really early this morning, I woke up and heard my own loud sob. I had tear-streaked face, and my nose were somewhat runny. Gawd, I was crying in my sleep.
Realizing I was crying in my sleep wasn’t weird. It was what I had been dreaming and crying about that I found strange.
I actually dreamt that someone died. It was, uhh, Marilyn Manson.
I was with this guy friend (not boyfriend) whom I don’t really know in real life, and this guy friend of mine is a huge fan of Manson also. We weren’t only mere fans, we actually knew Manson on a personal level. (Wah, imagine, Chooiyen and Manson, friends!)
Then one day, Manson DIED. But he had published this book for his fans, and eventhough he was talking to everyone who liked Manson, it felt like it was directed specially to my friend and I. And gosh, were we crying.
I was crying like I had lost my parents. For one thing, he WAS my friend and my favourite artist. For another, I had been looking forward to his new album. It was mostly the fact that I would never get to hear a new Manson song ever again that depressed me. I had locked myself up in a fitting room.
We’ve not gotten to the weird part yet.
When Manson died, we didn’t exactly know what he died of. But from what he had written in his book, it was like he anticipated his death.
So anyway, I woke up, found out my sister had heard my sobs, went and cleaned up my face, looked at the clock, realize it was not time to wake up yet, and went back to sleep.
Then I had another dream, and it was in relation to the first.
I was reading this really old book, and according to it, a person would die if he stood between 24 and 29. I had no idea what that meant.
Then I found out Manson had stood between the sun and the moon. Apparently, the guy had purposely wanted to die so he could donate his body parts to whoever needed them. It wasn’t right, random acts of kindness for real-life Manson would be like robbing a bank for us normal people. He just doesn’t do it often.
Then it turned out the body parts Manson donated were.. uh, prosthetics. It got a bit freaky then.
But really, it was a VERY vivid dream. I can still recall passages from that old book. Words like “Manson has hast” were particularly highlighted. Plus, they were very cryptic, you had to figure a whole lot out yourself. It was that clear and vivid.
Then I got a stupid SMS that woke me up. I should’ve switched the phone off when I sleep.
It’s just really stupid to be crying over the death of an artist.
But I didn’t drool in my sleep. That’s a relief.
Okay I PROMISE you I will not bore you with details of my future dreams anymore!