Indefinite rectangular route, white trails and gray mist.
Spiraling staircases and loud heavy breathing.
Armies of majestic gurkhas in robes of teal silk.
Routine marches; all the rigor and vigor.
Panting tirelessly with caution and fright, we clasped our hands and ran with all our might.
Unwanted attention and an uproar within the grand marble hall.
Beads of tears and sweat rolled off our faces.
Lives so precious, yet so hard to keep.
Heart shudders as the thought flashes through my head.
- that was all I could recall from my first recurring lucid dream.

My second lucid dream never fails to wake me up each day.
That familiar flight of steps to that old hawker center. The vibrations from the phone. And reading the exact same message from that exact same person just as I pass the bench.
The same emotions experienced too - from being on cloud nine, to deep down within my own living hell.

Sleeping well just gets harder.
I just need to self-regulate my need for attention, start to manage my own emotions better, than let it get the better of me.

And now I recall those days back on the lil couch, in that clinic. Maybe what she said was true. Maybe I'm only starting to feel it now at 18.

Sent via BlackBerry from SingTel!

Sylvia. Syl. And someone you'll never expect me to be.