The day had not been long, but C was tired.
At the lab, he had nodded off in front of the workstation several times - surely he must have drawn the curious attention of the gal sitting beside him.
While napping with his head ridiculously tilted to one side, C lapsed into a mini-dream - he was in the lift, going up to the floor where his ol' home had been...
... when suddenly he felt dust raining onto him...
... from the ceiling of the lift...
... and this, accompanied by sounds of female voices going in screams and wails of terror and horror...
Instinctively, C went down to the floor, clutching his knees and tucking his head in the protective embrace of his body. The minute-long lift journey never felt that long until now.
Then...
OUCH!
C silently cursed himself as he opened his eyes and felt the after-effects of having his head tilted to one side of the body over a prolonged period of time. He gingerly went back to his work.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
Once he was done at the lab, C headed over to his department wing, to his usual hangout - but not before he bought tea at the cafeteria. After a long break, it was time to go back to normalcy. From now on though, it would be just lonely lunches and afternoon tea breaks, at a slightly different venue. His time at the previous venue had been up - this day, he was lucky that it was vacant for the afternoon.
Tea was over quickly - how much can one talk to four walls, a floor and a ceiling? It wasn't long before the drowsiness came back to C though. This time, the lift drama resurfaced again. This time, instead of dust, it was sand and pebbles. Goodness, he thought as he squatted in the same position as he did previously, why did I take the lift again?
It was over pretty soon, but C emerged from his dream feeling troubled.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
The document he was reading was just a bit too much, given C's physical and mental state.
This time, he was with his neighbour R, friends dating back to the days when they just started formal education. They were walking past one of the homes on the ground floor, when a flying piece of t-shirt inside the house attracted their attention, the sleeves somewhat gesticulating for them to enter the house. C and his friend, hypnotised by this strange sight, took up the invite and stepped in.
Suddenly, the t-shirt began to fly wildly around the house, forcing the two poor souls to scramble to the corners. It headed straight for C, who shut his eyes and braced himself for the impact.
The contact proved to be anti-climatic. The t-shirt turned into a wad of cash notes.
At this time, the owner of the house emerged from nowhere and started to apologise profusely for the shock caused. As he was doing so, he tucked a wad of cash notes (note: smaller was than the one that was previously the t-shirt) into C's hands, presumably in the hope of keeping C quiet about his weird secret. C and R reassured him that they weren't in the least interested about his occult magic of turning clothings into obscene amounts of cash and left the place...
... to take the lift...
... and C realised his folly. Too late.
This time, the ceiling began to tear off as the lift ascended. Bigger stones rained on us, the screams and wails gotten louder, and it became most unbearable for us. In his prostrate pose, C began to pray...
... while keeping his eyes off the lift indicator...
... and then, he feel the lift gradually losing speed in its ascent...
... He glanced up at the indicator and saw the lift showing "11"; please, C pleaded, just a few more floors, just a few more seconds...
... the lift slowly came to a momentary stop just before reaching the 15th floor, hung in mid-air for a second or two, and then started its descent.
-------------------------
Supposed to head home after work for some sleep - then remembered that I need to get the readings for my 2 modules. Dragged myself back to AS7, then AS5...
Hmmmm, first time in Grad Room, all by myself.
Keith dropped by for dinner and some chat before heading back to his room, Charlene came in for all of 2 minutes and then left (without exchanging a word); otherwise it was a quiet evening in the room, with me keeping myself busy in front of the workstation typing the words that you are seeing right now.
Something strange about the "day-mare" - how did the mind manage to connect the 3 dreams with the incident of the degenerating lift?
The mind has a mind of its own? My mind is not my mind? My dream is not my dream?
Signing off.......... Wondering if I should take the lift later.........
RC
At the lab, he had nodded off in front of the workstation several times - surely he must have drawn the curious attention of the gal sitting beside him.
While napping with his head ridiculously tilted to one side, C lapsed into a mini-dream - he was in the lift, going up to the floor where his ol' home had been...
... when suddenly he felt dust raining onto him...
... from the ceiling of the lift...
... and this, accompanied by sounds of female voices going in screams and wails of terror and horror...
Instinctively, C went down to the floor, clutching his knees and tucking his head in the protective embrace of his body. The minute-long lift journey never felt that long until now.
Then...
OUCH!
C silently cursed himself as he opened his eyes and felt the after-effects of having his head tilted to one side of the body over a prolonged period of time. He gingerly went back to his work.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
Once he was done at the lab, C headed over to his department wing, to his usual hangout - but not before he bought tea at the cafeteria. After a long break, it was time to go back to normalcy. From now on though, it would be just lonely lunches and afternoon tea breaks, at a slightly different venue. His time at the previous venue had been up - this day, he was lucky that it was vacant for the afternoon.
Tea was over quickly - how much can one talk to four walls, a floor and a ceiling? It wasn't long before the drowsiness came back to C though. This time, the lift drama resurfaced again. This time, instead of dust, it was sand and pebbles. Goodness, he thought as he squatted in the same position as he did previously, why did I take the lift again?
It was over pretty soon, but C emerged from his dream feeling troubled.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
The document he was reading was just a bit too much, given C's physical and mental state.
This time, he was with his neighbour R, friends dating back to the days when they just started formal education. They were walking past one of the homes on the ground floor, when a flying piece of t-shirt inside the house attracted their attention, the sleeves somewhat gesticulating for them to enter the house. C and his friend, hypnotised by this strange sight, took up the invite and stepped in.
Suddenly, the t-shirt began to fly wildly around the house, forcing the two poor souls to scramble to the corners. It headed straight for C, who shut his eyes and braced himself for the impact.
The contact proved to be anti-climatic. The t-shirt turned into a wad of cash notes.
At this time, the owner of the house emerged from nowhere and started to apologise profusely for the shock caused. As he was doing so, he tucked a wad of cash notes (note: smaller was than the one that was previously the t-shirt) into C's hands, presumably in the hope of keeping C quiet about his weird secret. C and R reassured him that they weren't in the least interested about his occult magic of turning clothings into obscene amounts of cash and left the place...
... to take the lift...
... and C realised his folly. Too late.
This time, the ceiling began to tear off as the lift ascended. Bigger stones rained on us, the screams and wails gotten louder, and it became most unbearable for us. In his prostrate pose, C began to pray...
... while keeping his eyes off the lift indicator...
... and then, he feel the lift gradually losing speed in its ascent...
... He glanced up at the indicator and saw the lift showing "11"; please, C pleaded, just a few more floors, just a few more seconds...
... the lift slowly came to a momentary stop just before reaching the 15th floor, hung in mid-air for a second or two, and then started its descent.
-------------------------
Supposed to head home after work for some sleep - then remembered that I need to get the readings for my 2 modules. Dragged myself back to AS7, then AS5...
Hmmmm, first time in Grad Room, all by myself.
Keith dropped by for dinner and some chat before heading back to his room, Charlene came in for all of 2 minutes and then left (without exchanging a word); otherwise it was a quiet evening in the room, with me keeping myself busy in front of the workstation typing the words that you are seeing right now.
Something strange about the "day-mare" - how did the mind manage to connect the 3 dreams with the incident of the degenerating lift?
The mind has a mind of its own? My mind is not my mind? My dream is not my dream?
Signing off.......... Wondering if I should take the lift later.........
RC
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