Dreams And The Departed

Where do our dearly departed go?

It is a profound question for a mind like mine that deals mostly in science and technology - aka fact. Is there really heaven and hell? Are the departed still within our midst or watching over us from beyond? I'd like to believe its true.

But the real question is - can they communicate with us through dreams? I have a relative who is convinced beyond any doubt that her dead mother and elder sister talk to her in her dreams. Whenever she is troubled by some issue, be it a family conflict or a decision that needs to be made, her mother or sister (sometimes together) will appear in her dreams to provide her "invaluable" advice.

My mind screams "Poppycock!" when I hear yet another of her nocturnal visitations. While I believe that our departed loved ones do watch over us, they do not communicate with us via dreams.

Cynical? Not really. But I find it preposterous that the answers handed to her by these departed souls seems to be in the direction she was leaning towards anyway. I have never heard that they have given her an answer that was against her original wishes or opinion.

Call it a personal hobby but I've been intrigued by dreams and have been analysing them (if I can remember) as soon as I wake up. Over the last few years, I've begun to see a pattern. For example, a couple of weeks ago, my wife was toasting some bread at night and it got a little burnt. There was a little smoke coming into the living room where we have a smoke detector. I was a little concerned that it would go off at that late hour but tossed it to the back of my mind, telling myself I'll deal with it if it triggers. Two nights later, I dreamt our old apartment had burnt down to the ground and we lost everything! I was standing a few feet away from the remains angry at our smoke sensor's failure to sound the alarm and call for emergency services. Thinking back, I recall it bothered me the alarm did not go off even though there was smoke.

In this relative's case, she already knows the answer to her conflict (consciously or subconsciously) but her brain uses a person of respect or authority, in this case a departed loved one, to "deliver" the answer. This way, she can find solace in the fact that even her departed mother and sister concur with her decision - even though it may not be the right one.

A good way to assign blame if things don't work out, if you ask me.

Trust Betrayed

Look up the word "betrayal" in the dictionary and you'd get definitions like "exhibition of disloyalty"and "the act of violating trust". If you've ever been on the receiving end of betrayal, you'll know that it leaves a bad taste in your mouth and a sick feeling in your stomach.

About two month ago, I was betrayed... by someone I loved and trusted all my life. As a very young boy, I watched this young and elegant lady step into the corporate world for the first time. At that time, I was filled with a strange feeling which I now recognise as pride. Soon after, I watched her get married and eventually had children of her own - whom I became very attached to. She fussed over me all the time, buying me comics, books and toys whenever she felt like it - which was often - till her children came along. She prayed hard by my Mother's side when doctors gave up all hope on me due to a medical condition at the age of 12. When my mother died, she promised she'd look after me at all cost. And when my son was born, she declared that she was his Grandma in my mother's 'absence'. For all that she had done, I would have laid down my life for her at a moment's notice - if it ever came to that.

How does one come to terms with being betrayed by someone like that?

During her difficult times, she came to me and cried on my shoulders. When her brother and his wife were (frequently) cruel and verbally hurtful towards her, she came to me to pour her woes and depended on me to take her side. Through it all, I defended her - like a son would defend his mother. Now, when I needed her to understand my perspective regarding a situation with truth and facts to corroborate, she turns a deaf ear and says she "wants to remain neutral". What is most hurtful is that this "situation" is what caused her and the rest of my family years of unhappiness, discourse and grief.

Although she no longer comes to me to lament since the confrontation, she still does to my wife. So even though she wants us to respect her wishes to "remain neutral", she still wants a listening ear for her problems. My wife, who was her biggest 'fan' when I first introdued them, is now deeply disillusioned.

My trust and faith in family, relationships and humanity has been dwindling over the years. But this turn of events has accelerated things drastically. How do you have faith in another human being after you come face to face with such a betrayal?

The damage done to my belief system is beyond repair. The same goes for my relationship with her. But what I find most sad is that my wife and I now have to instill in our little boy that life is paved with disappointments and betrayals - even from friends and relatives he may believe will be there for him. And as I watch the innocent fella laugh, play and sleep, I worry about how much it will scar him when he has to face the reality of betrayal for the first time. How I wish we could shield him forever.

Nevertheless, although I am still trying hard to get the proverbial bad taste out of my mouth, I am at peace with my conscience. I only hope she can find peace with her's.

The Blue Blog

I've been feeling down over the last few days. Been thinking a lot about my Dad. So many things are happening around me and and I am constantly laden with everyone else's problems. Then, someone said something to me recently that hit a very raw nerve. I never saw it coming - so it really stung.

Because they are loved ones, I take their plight very seriously but everyone is too full of themselves to realise that their words and actions drain me physically and emotionally. In situations like these, I always turn to my Dad. I no longer can.

So these days, I turn to my blog to rant. When I logged in today, I noticed something I never saw before. My blog was blue - and a dark shade at that! It felt gloomy and miserable. So, I decided to spruce it up, thanks to the Blogger template designers.

The blue blog is gone. Ah... this looks a whole lot happier. What say you?

Value Of Life

How much is "life" worth? I'm not referring to the popular magazine sold around the world.

About 15 years ago, I was a fan of a show called Northern Exposure and in an episode titled "Ill Wind", Maurice (a self-centered retired astronaut) was angry that Chris (the town's radio deejay) saved him from falling off a building. Maurice's anger stemed from the fact that he felt he was now unduly indebted to Chris. He asked Joel, the town's only doctor, "What is the price of a human body?". Joel tells him that his University professor did a similar study and came up with US$29. "I knew life was cheap!", came Maurice's flippant response.

I've been thinking a lot about life these days and this has put me in a solemn mood. Perhaps it is because I am turning 37 tomorrow. Perhaps it is because this will be the first birthday in 37 years I won't have my father with me - nor will he be for the rest of my birthdays. Or perhaps it is because of how people close to me talk about dying as if it was as simple as flicking a switch.

My wife and I spent a good six months of 2005 in hospitals - visiting, that is. A total of three of my family members, including my father, were in hospital. My father spent the longest time there starting in May till he passed on in January this year. One of the two relatives was in as a result of an infected toe because of diabetes - infected to the point that doctors recommended amputation. "If they amputate my toe, I'll kill myself", he said back then. He didn't go through with the surgery and by God's grace, his toe has healed somewhat. Last week, we chatted again as usual. Over the last few months, his eyesight was failing as a result of diabetes again. "If I go blind, I'll definitely kill myself" came his finite reply.

While I do feel sad for him, a single man over 50 and living alone, I can't help feel angry at his constant proclamation about ending his life, even though he has the support, albeit minimal, of the family. Why am I angry? Read on.

My father walked in and was admitted to hospital on 12th May 2005. He was scheduled to stay only for a few days for observation. This escalated into a major spinal issue and everything went downhill from there - putting him into a wheelchair and unable to walk or stand on his own. Doctors talked about surgery but were too afraid to operate initially because of the delicate nature of the surgery and my father's age. They said there was a possibility that he would not make it through the surgery. I tried hard to catch my breath when I heard those words. I talked to my father about the only high-risk option available to him. After listening to me, he said "Let's do it. I'll be ok". When I asked him if he was sure, he said "Definitely!". I made the arrangements with the doctors despite fearing the worst and true to my father's words, he made it through. Even his doctors were amazed at his will-power. "He a real fighter", the surgeon told us. "That's my Dad.", I replied.

He was in severe pain from the surgery with tubes coming in and out of him at the ICU. But through his groaning, he would enquire if I had eaten or if his office was being taken care of. And a few days after his surgery, he told me "I am looking forward to going back to my office". I smiled because I knew he would fight hard to get well. It was a load off my shoulders. At a point close to his full recovery where he was able to walk with help and support, he suffered a stroke which affected his left hand, left leg and his speech was impaired. I stood by his bedside and cried thinking how life could be so unfair to him especially when he was so close to his recovery. My father, on seeing the tears in my eyes, mumbled something which I could not understand at first. It was after a few attempts that I heard the words "I'll be alright very soon."

He left the hospital three months later still in a wheelchair after doctors said there wasn't much more they could do to help him. He celebrated his birthday two days later. After the small celebration was over that evening, he called me to his room to say that he wanted to go overseas to try other alternative treatments. "When do you want to go?", I asked. "As soon as possible", came his response. My wife and I made the arrangements and the three of us were on a plane two days later. While in flight, he said "I will not be bringing the wheelchair when I return."

My father made good progress while seeking treatment overseas. He even sent us photos of himself taken by family friends there showing him "walking" to his physiotherapy sessions and even raising his left hand to wave. I was very proud of him. He fought hard and almost won - until a massive stroke took his life.

Despite the fact that my father was an old man and at that point faced with the prospect of being wheelchair bound for the rest of his life, he worked hard to be free from his four-wheeled prison. Even when he was overseas, we talked over the phone and in-between conversations, he'd always say "I'm getting better. I'll be back soon." And in spite of the ordeal of the surgery, strokes and other complications along the way, I never once heard him say "I'd rather die". He did anything and everything he could to get well. God, I believe, had bigger plans for him.

Its no competition but my relative's suffering, in my opinion, pales in comparison to my father's. Still, he wants so much to end his life but my father's was taken even though he fought to go on. This, to me, is the greatest tragedy / injustice of all.

During my low days, I sometimes feel that life is too long a haul. But when I think of my father and how much he wanted to live, I feel shame to even entertain these thoughts. What I've gone through in life is nothing compared to what my father had to endure. And now that I have a son, I hope to bring him as much joy as my father brought to me - and for as long as I can. I believe my father persevered for the very same reason.

In the end, I guess its how much you value your life - not your existence.

Chained To Superstition

A mobile text message came through at about 8 am when I was deep in slumber last Saturday morning. Thinking it was from my office, I forced my tired eyes open and reached for my mobile phone. The gist of the message read "Today, there is a special prayer at a particular temple. Send this message off to 10 people and you will get good luck". "Not again", I sighed, tossed my phone back onto the table and tried to get back to what I affectionally call New-"Z"-Land. Ok, I agree that's lame.

Later in the day, the text message got me thinking. If I had actually forwarded this message to 10 people, would Lady Luck be so pleased that she will shower me with good fortune? If I didn't, would something bad befall me? Yesterday, I lost my keys to my home while out shopping with my wife. I've never lost my home keys in my life. Was it my own carelessness or was it because I did not heed the instructions to forward the text message to 10 people? I'll never know.

Superstitions aside, what really bewildered me was the fact that the person who sent this to me was a family member. While I know that the intention was good, I can't help but feel that if she believed that if such supernatural powers existed and travelled via text messages, I could just as easily be hurt by such receiving one.

In my opinion, sending out chain letters (which today has evolved into chain emails and chain text messages) is just downright inconsiderate. You receive a chain text message and to selfishly secure your own good luck, you pass on the "bad luck" of being the receipient of the text message to others on your contact list. I would never do that, especially to a family member or a good friend. To me, it is a reflection of a lack of concern to the intended receipient, burdening him or her with the task of forwarding the message to 10 other unfortunate souls.

I received a letter in the mail about two months ago addressed to my late father. When I opened it, it turned out to be a chain letter requesting him to make copies of it and send it out to 10 people or else he'll suffer an unfortunate fate. Considering my father has passed on, I guess the joke is on the sender.

The bottom line? I don't believe that you can change your fate with 10 text messages. The only people whose fate you can change is the mobile network service provider who charges you for each text message you send out - and in a good way at that! So, messages like these usually suffer the wrath of my mobile phone's delete function.

For good luck, forward this blog to 10 people....

Family Politics

Yup. The general elections are around the corner yet again. There are already many blogs on Blogspot talking about the upcoming polls so I won't dwell on it, mainly because there isn't much more I can say that already has been said. This entry into my online journal is to share / document my experience during the general elections. In case you were wondering, I am not a politician now nor have I ever been. It is just that the general elections bring back fond memories of which sadly can never be re-lived.

You see, the general elections was a time for my family to get together. I recall the first general election party (when I was about 14) when my mom decided to start this tradition whereby she would get everyone together at our place, have a barbecue and when we were all done grilling meat over the red hot coal, huddle around the TV to watch the results of the contested wards to see who won, who lost and by how much. My uncles, auntie, two cousins and my grandma would actually come a few hours early to help out, much to my excitement, of course. While my mom and auntie did all the work in the kitchen, the older of my two uncles will provide the "entertainment" by cracking jokes (mostly unfit for kids our age, if you get my drift) while my younger uncle would laugh and add his take while he got the fire going in the barbecue pit. I love the smell of burning coal - especially with chicken wings over it. *slurp*

Before the TV comes on in anticipation of the election results, the latest hits from that era will be playing on the family hi-fi system with yours truly in command of the playlist. My younger uncle was quite the pop-music aficionado so he'd share some music trivia with me. Did you know the chorus in Kon Kan's club classic "I Beg Your Pardon" was sampled from Lynn Anderson's 60's hit "I Never Promised You A Rose Garden"? My uncle knew his stuff.

Then came the moment in the evening we all looked forward to. The TV came alive and we all took our places, usually very close to one another. My father hardly joined us in these gatherings for two reasons - firstly, the election results went on till the wee hours of the morning and he was a stickler for sleeping early where possible and secondly, he believed in finding out who won together with the detailed reports by political analysts from the morning papers.

The TV coverage from the different vote counting centres would begin, and so did our own commentary on who would be returned and who would be defeated. Of course, my elder uncle would generously dished out his own "colourful" commentary and it always met with stomach-cramping laughter. Then, when "the man" walked onto the podium with the results in hand, everyone went silent. "The man" usually spoke very slowly, purposefully and monotonously, much to our annoyance as it took him way too long to 'get to the point'. I guess he was trying hard not to screw up. At that moment, my heart would be in my throat, pounding wildly and my hands and feet would turn cold. To this day, I am still not sure why but I'll bet I was as excited and nervous as the candidates themselves. And then came the declaration of a winner. We would cheer loudly or slump back in our seats in utter disbelief.

Results that ended in disbelief were usually followed by more discussions and analysis. I didn't know much about politics during my teen years but I made it a point to listen to the grown-ups. But when our living room was filled with loud cheers, my younger uncle would head to our kitchen, mix a few glasses of innocent looking Ribena with an added ingredient - a dash of something with a little kick. "Don't let your mother take a sip out of your glass", he'd say as he slipped me a glass. Of course, that and the many other glasses that followed our cheers put a perpetual smile on my face all night!

The announcement of the results would end at about 5 am in the morning and we'd all just fall asleep where we sat out of sheer tiredness. After breakfast at about 10 am, everyone would start to leave. I felt sad, not because I would not see them again for a long time but I knew that the next time this would happen would be in four to five years - when the next general elections came around. And when you're anxiously waiting for something, it usually takes forever.

So, will the elections on the 6th of May this year be the same? Sadly, no. The tradition died with my mom. And somehow along the way, the family split into different camps due to misunderstandings and differences and each 'constituency' started rallying support from the independent parties, namely my cousins and myself. It was just like the elections that we used to watch together many years ago - different parties hurling accusations at each other while trying to gain support from the fence-sitters. So, who is leading in my family's polls? I guess there will never be a winner as the only thing achieved was the decimation of a wonderfully close-knit family. And for me, I think the time has come for my wife and I to start a tradition of our own. Will keep everyone posted when we figure it out.

And to the candidates in the upcoming general elections... May the best man win.