前天、昨天，各做一个醒来后记得的梦。
今早出现一闪念。
一并记述如下。梦是用英文做的，闪念的“原文”也是英文。
I shall therefore record them faithfully in English, to the extent possible, and flesh out some nebulous, connoted details with explicit wording.
Dream 1:
An old man died of a heart attack during a heated exchange of words with me. The subject matter of the exchange is trivial, and immaterial to the story.
I thought I'd be charged with manslaughter and get a slap on the wrist.
I was wrong.
I was charged with murder. And convicted. And sentenced to death.
In court, no one, not even my own defence team, was protesting the verdict.
"This is outrageous," I thought to myself.
I mouthed a question to my barrister: "Surely I must say a few words in my own defence?"
The wigged and gowned barrister winked at me, and somehow telepathised his reply to me:
"Let's wait and see."
Then the judge spoke.
"I am afraid I must adjourn the court. I have been informed that permission from the European Human Rights Court must be sought prior to executing this guilty man."
Another wink from my barrister.
I got it.
But then my dream entered the lucid phase. I started to question my reality:
"Is this a sick joke, or is it a dream? Hasn't Brexit already happened?"
On my way out, in the rotunda corridor, I saw the judges and lawyers changing into party attire. Apparently they are all going to an exclusive fancy dress do, which is to start at 10.30 am.
"Oh, I see! The adjournment had nothing to do with the European red tape. Going to the party was more important to them at that point. That's all."
Then it dawned on me...
"That means my barrister did bugger-all, doesn't it?"
Dream 2:
I was in India. I was one of the art students tasked to draw a likeness of an ancient sculpture. The sculpture, of a deity, was a genuine relic worth millions of dollars.
The deity had her left arm missing. We were to restore the missing limb in our drawings.
I found it very challenging. After many unsuccessful attempts rendered my canvas into something resembling the messy mug of General Zhang Fei overgrown with scruffy facial hair, I walked up to the sculpture to take a closer look.
I discovered to my amazement that this deity actually had a left arm, tucked behind her body.
The discovery delighted me. It meant I didn't have to imagine a limb that wasn't there. I could just draw it as it was.
Gingerly, I started moving the arm to the front.
It wasn't easy. I did it with utmost care...
Then it got stuck. The arm stayed in an outstretched position. The serene, demure deity was now an ungainly sight.
I panicked.
The panic woke me up.
A Fleeting Thought:
The mind seems to be caught in a double bind that it can never get out of.
Like an airborne kite.
To the mind, as to the kite, 'to soar or to fall' is the question.
It belongs in the invisible, in the realm of freedom. Yet it is fused with an earthly substrate.
When it is connected to the ground, one way or another, its radius of manoeuvre is the length of the string, beyond which is the domain of fantasy.
Untethered, it's just a runaway flap of gossamer at the mercy of the elements, doomed to ruination, outlived by the string, the spool, the hands that once controlled it and the owner's memory of it.
There is a perpetual tussle between the mind and the body. This tension is the source of restlessness, frustration, depression and artistic inspiration. It's largely the mind's 'fault'. The mind feels superior and never tires of trying to prove its superiority. The body, on the other hand, doesn't really care. It just does its job and when it's not feeling well, it lets it be known.
Perfect harmony or even unitisation of mind and body only sounds good. It is unfeasible. Mind and body form a binary system. There's no such thing as a binary system consisting of a singularity, is there?
The mind is not to the body as a watch is to the wrist it is bangled to.
The mind is to the body as the nipple is to the breast.
The nipple is an outgrowth of the breast. Its very existence depends on the latter.
But without the nipple, the breast loses its purpose.
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