Tabula Rasa

I had a dream last night.

The world was ending in a frenzy of people unmoved. They stand there, too fearful to move under a sky of pure white, above a ground that did not know who or what it was anymore..

I seemed to be the only one moving, moving between maniacally stationary bodies, looking for people I knew. I found the five purest knights sitting calmly on a bench. I looked up at them in all the love and adoration I've had for them in the eternity of almost 10 years. They looked down on me, upset and disappointed at the life I've made for myself. My stomach lurched, my mouth dried, and something got stuck in my throat and decided it liked it there.

Two technicoloured beacons shot from the sky, and all of humanity jumped to avoid it. I dropped the book I had in my hand, and the beacons turned towards me, and I immediately dropped to the ground, in a fetal position. I didn't dare to look at the beacons - they were like the eyes of a mentor whose teachings I had discarded for navigating through minds like Hers and to shine a dark black light in my head.

I had sins, but not today. Today, I had fetid, naked darkness.

I do not know what my dream meant, but there was a presence in it I have never felt before. One that convinced me with my eyes that the dream was real.

Last Night After The Sun Went Down

I used to be a little boy, so old in my shoes.

Early twilight at Marina Barrage. 2 a.m.

We're sitting right at the top of the main building, staring down at port-side Singapore. Me and the guys. Like it always has been. Like it will always be. Breaking down our past. Living our present. Discerning our future.

Just 5 guys, hanging out as we have for 8 years now. We started in secondary school - naive, child-like individuals. And each of us, in our own little ways, are still stuck in those days.

We're talking about girls, and how we're miserable failures with them. We laugh at it. We're not quite different now as compared to our SJI days.

Nazir retains that witty, gentlemanly charm he had. And weirdly, 'British' is not the term for Nazir's style. For someone from a Convention, he's very unconventional. Tall, thin, wearing a hairband to hold back hair he's not bothering to keep in check. For now.

Mus still has the standards he had then. The deeper meaning of one's possessions, class, sophistication. And then the conflict between his disenchantment and his idealism. Tonight, he's in his Armani Exchange jacket. Jeans from the same brand. Black hi-cuts. Dark, brooding - he wore it.

Nas is feisty, sometimes bordering on cynicism. He's his mother's son, that dude. But these days he displays a gentler side. An anguished side, sometimes. Those uneven steps into adulthood. Nas has good posture - it was a random observation I made sometime ago. Nice square shoulders. Good tone. You hardly notice it, and we know why.

Aizat has always been interesting. Disciplined. Deadpan humour. Good in Maths. Tennis whiz. Slightly drained. Giving. Never awed by his roles in life. I think he's going to be the all-rounded family man. The grey hoodie he had on hid his good physique.

And looking at all of them, it really hit me how we're still the same person. But we've grown up so much. These guys deserve the best in life.





A few people have commented how I'm so different from my best friends. But I don't think we're such a close group because we're so similar anyway. They're my balance. Before recent developments, I've gone through 2 months without really spending time with them.

And hey no surprise, they were miserable 2 months.