Well, hello again, fancy another silly dream I dreamt two nights ago? Of course you do. No name calling, please. My sleeping schedule has been thrown off lately due to some personal work and a bucket list to give a head to—perhaps that’s the cause of all these dreams. But anyway, the reason I’m back to my dream writing board, yes?
Like the usual, no beginning except this one, I knew what was the reason I was at this hotel named The Atrium something. It was well fancy. A tiny zen fountain placed next to the reception counter. The counter was painted silver, floor was made out of marble; almost the colour of sand. The ceiling was quite low. The foyer was very, very bland. I guess their aim was to make the lobby look like an atrium. Although I mentioned how bland the foyer was bland, I looked up, a tiny dome made out of blank marble tiles added mystique to the name of the hotel.
People were dispersed everywhere. I was a retarded, happy kid who just burst through the glass doors. For one, I didn’t know who I was looking for, I was watching myself be the most retarded person I can imagine. I was wearing my deep fuschia Minnie Mouse blouse and a jean skirt that legenthened up to my knobby knees. A girl, about an average height of a seventeen year old, wearing a purple shirt, jeans and a bag clung to her back. She held a shopping bag in her right hand. Her hair was cut to layers, messy and pulled back loosely. By her sides were a man and woman with permed locks. Must be her parents, no?
I ran over to her, “Andrea, Andrea, Andrea, Andrea!” I chanted as I hooked myself to her arm. She drew her arm back; wearing a very steady poker face; ignoring my desperate plead for attention.
I frowned slightly with my brows furrowed. Sighing, I thought, “She’s probably busy. Mind as well go around this place. I’ll come back later when she’s not busy anymore.”
Andrea looked focused on something eventhough nothing’s going on. Maybe she was just spacing out to the reception counter? There were two ladies whose hair were tied into buns and were wearing black coats and underneath; white blouses. I glided along the floor of the lobby to a mysterious hallway. It was a short journey to where ever I went.
The hallway was short and dark. I entered this huge dim warehouse-like place. It was as big as a hanger (the place where people put helicopters and planes? Yeah, that one). There was a long platform stretching from one end to another; same goes to the other side of the warehouse. In the middle was an endless pit, on it was two moving walkways; one going to and the other from one platform to another. It was quite deserted. A fluorescent light came from some arch. I skipped to one of the moving walkway. Taking my time as I bobbed my head to earworm in my head, the conveyor belt moved at a moderate speed. It was a long converyor belt by the way.
As I set my feet off the moving walkway, the arch was protected with glass doors. It looks like some meat market with air-conditon. I pushed the glass on the way in, there was no one. Without bothering to yell out ‘hello’, I browsed through the aisles on my left. On my right were freezers filled with pork. They were long, giant open freezers arranged vertically. At the back of the store was a freezer displaying marinated meat; minced pork; so on. The aisle I checked out were full of crackers made out of potatoes. Cans filled with egg rolls, bean paste; basically Chinese ingredients were sold. Fish maw and barbeque pork imported from Singapore hung on ropes from the stands.
I took a moment to take in the Chinese heritage of food. “It feels like Hong Kong,” I thought. Really, I didn’t know why I said that ‘cause I’ve never been to Hong Kong. I’ve seen it on television though.
Abruptly, I felt like I had the urge to get out of there because someone was calling me…But no one was. I ran out of the store, stood still when I stepped onto the moving walkway. On the other side, one of my dear friends, Sanjana; another average height for someone her age, long bangs pulled back wearing a grey shirt and glasses—also like Andrea, a bag strapped to her back; and another girl accompanying her, waved to me, “Went there, yeah?” she mouthed with her head nodding enthusiastically.
“Yup,” I mouthed and nodded back to her. We passed by each other. I continued on running back to the lobby, finding Andrea smiling at me with so much awe in her eyes, “Mei, mei!”
“What, what happened?” I asked immediately as I met her face-to-face. She grasped onto my arms tightly, shaking me; she was about to explode in joy, “David’s on the way here!”
“ARE YOU SERIOUS?” I yelled.
She nodded with her mouth opened forming a wide smile.
Just then, I glanced over to the wall at the reception counter that said, “The Atrium” then a thick gold coloured line, underneath in subtitles, “HONG KONG”
“How could I have missed that?” I said dreamily to myself.
Then, “Ling, wake up.”
“Grahhh, why, get out,” I fussed with my blanket, peeking out; I saw my clock that said 12 o’clock in the afternoon.
“Because it’s one.”
“You blind old lady, you.” I thought angrily to myself to having to be awaken at such a wonderful dream.
Explaining this dream: what Andrea wore was the attire when she met David at his Manila book signing. Sanjana’s was the one she wore at the Meet & Greet in Kuala Lumpur. I love my dreams.