I have finally found my part-time occupation in a sushi reataurant. Not a sushi chef though.. Odd enough, I was assigned to be the errand boy(Serve, sweep floor, do the dishes etc.). I really hope things can be as fun as how I had guessed. This will be the first time I work for money...
The legacy of the GCE 'O' Level examinations is filled more of fear and paranoia than of happiness and leisure for me. Fear had hit my bind spot; Nightmares for at least thrice a week. I would either be haunted by the nightmares themselves, or the legacy of them which are sometimes prophetic. I don't know whether to start watching my back more frequently, or should I try to forget. I mean, at least 33.3% of it appeared in real life. If this very nightmare I dreamt of last night (26 November 2011) happens in real life... Well, hope it would never happen.
The nightmare went like this: In a cloudy afternoon, I met a dude who was fat and wore glasses. He told me he was a 19-years-old Malay(Sorry if this seems racist. I'm not trying to make a racist remark. This was truly out of incidence.) Singaporean and he needed my help. He told me to deliver some packets of candies to his friend somewhere far away. He gave me three or four packets of them and told me to "smuggle" it into the bus. I refused and walked away. Then I rode the bus back home. I reached out for my wallet in my pocket, and suddenly the packets of candies fell from it. The bus driver picked up the candies and then he screamed, "Runner! Call the police! There's a drug runner in the bus!" A few big-sized men pinned me down, a gossipmonger aunty picked her cell phone and dialled the police. Then the police came and investigated the candies. A policeman picked the candy up and scanned its label, then shook his head, and told me, "You are dead this time, low-life."
"Drug? Where the hell did it come from?" The men who had pinned me on the bus floor then picked me up, locked my arms and punched me. The policeman showed me the candy. It was labelled with a really peculiar name which sounded like a medication than a drug. The policeman then told me, "This is the new drug which was invented a month ago. Worse than cocaine. Just 1g of it would sentence the runner to death by hanging." I was framed. The officer checked my bag too. It was worse; it was filled with the drug. The policeman handcuffed me and dragged me to his car, then drove me to the station, and threw me into a small, moss-covered cell like a bag of sausages. He told me, "Two more days until you get hanged, boy. Take this time to repent and regret as to why did you become a runner."
In the cell, there were two other prisoners. I was still handcuffed, while they weren't. They seized the opportunity to start torturing me. They tossed me. They punched me. They cracked horrendously as their cruel torture wasn't witnessed by anyone else other than me and themselves. The time just flowed like the running tap of murky, undrinkable water in the cell. Four policeman and another guy who was dressed in brown and wore a tag on his left breast, labelled "Head of Department of Law", came and pulled me out of the cell. They saw me roughed up so badly that injuries this bad could have resulted in a slow, painful death. But they didn't care. The policemen dragged me to the men-in-brown's office. He told the other officers to leave, and told me to sit down. Then he spoke in an interrogative voice. "I heard that you were framed. Indeed your looks tell me so. I shall allow you four hours to track who had made you the scapegoat to this drug-running operation. If you don't find anything, your death sentence will proceed as planned." He handed me some rags, and told me to leave.
I don't really now what happened next, but the next thing I could remember was that I met the girl(You could guess who, right?) She cried and said, "We'll skip town together. The police will never remember after we stay low for awhile. Okay? Let's go!" Her voice was soft, yet slightly sloppy, which contradicted her rational and calm personality. Then suddenly, a really scary voice came from outside the apartment, from a man who seemed to be hunting the both of us. He banged the door, then he kicked it. I told the girl to hide somewhere first. She hid in her closet. Suddenly, holes appeared on the area near the knob, followed by gunshots. The knob loosened, the door forcefully flew open. A skinny man who wore a pair of round spectacles pointed the pistol over my head. I was fast enough; I strafed slightly to the left, grabbed his hand whih held the pistol, then flipped him on the ground judo-style. I twisted his hand, and he released the gun. I grabbed the gun, and with my left elbow, knocked him from the back of his neck, and he fell unconscious. I told the girl that it was safe to run now, but not for long.
I thought: As long as I am still alive, armed maniacs such as the man in glasses will never stop hunting for the both of us. We ran to the nearest train station. Then suddenly, another man appeared. He was far worse a mercenary than the previous: He was armed with a double-barrel shotgun, twice the size of the man in glasses, and wore a bulletproof vest. Foolished enough, I gave the girl my pistol, and roundhouse-kicked the man on his face. He didn't budge a single inch. He grabbed my leg and tossed me, causing me to crash onto the ATM machine a few metres away. I picked the nearest glass shard from the destroyed ATM machine and threw it at the man while shouting to the girl, "Run! Don't care about me. Save yourself first!" The man pointed his shotgun at her. I picked another glass shard and threw it at him, this time cutting my palm and punching a hole through his titan abdomen. The girl was lost. She quickly ran towards me. Out of nowhere, the man in glasses came and pointed yet another pistol at her. She pointed her pistol back at him. The juggernaut pointed his shotgun at her. I hurried myself up and rushed to save her, but then, a platoon of Spec-Ops appered and pointed their rifles at me. The man-in-brown who had given me the time limit also appeared, laughing sinisterly, "Your time is up." One of the Spec-Ops pulled his rifle trigger, bursting a series of three bullets flying towards me. Right before the bullets touched my face, I woke up, with my face covered in cold sweat and my shins abjuring a tight and painful cramp.
I guess the nightmare wasn't explained well enough, and the plot seems juggled into an oddball. I tried my best to describe it. Sometimes certain things cannot be explained with just words, especially sub-conscious encounters. I'll just leave it like this... Even now I still feel the trauma within me... Nah!! This will NEVER happen. :)
