liyana,

Occasionally I do have dreams of women. A stranger in my bed. Doing things that made me hit the snooze button on my alarm clock one too many. What were they like, you asked. I wasn’t quick to answer because I did not think that was really what you wanted to hear.

I will share with you though something I have never told you before. Something that took place ten years ago when we barely know each other. You were at that time an undergraduate student half way across the globe. Physically speaking we were opposite time zones apart.

I had a dream of you.

It was the most vivid dream I ever had.

I dreamt that I met you in a place I could hardly recognise. Maybe it did not matter very much. You stood before me in a tank top and a pair of jeans. Your hair was long below your bare shoulders. And that smile. I could not be mistaken for that smile of yours I could have known anywhere. The premiere. The welcoming ray of sunshine. I think in that dream I smiled back. I was exhilarated.

We walked and talked in that dream, though I did not remember voices. We communicated. We spent some time together. Me being with you. And then I woke up.

I felt. Happy. Like a kid who saw rainbow for the first time. Or like a toddler when his feet touches the wet green grass on his first time outside. I felt a robust swirl of emotion inside.

And that was the only time you came into my dream.

I have not forgotten that dream. It had a very rare and lasting impact in that realm. I could have looked for it again night after night, but still I would not be able to recreate the same high. The same episode.

I was a little sheepish to tell you any of that. I was terrified you were probably going to have a fit of laughter. It was hardly juvenile (there was no romping around, damn!) if not too decent.

But you asked me once when we first met, ‘how did you find me.’

liyana, I know now you are always meant to be found.

chairil