Weird Dreams + Meanings

17 Aug

I have never had a good dream. Ever.

I have decided to keep a dream journal a while ago, and recently I’ve looked up my dreams (90% of my dreams are nightmares) on dreammoods.com.

So this is my dream that I got, this morning. And the meanings behind my dreams.

I’ve escaped from home, the world has become a place where people had to be rude and mean. If you start acting… I don’t know…the way we are, they’ll kill you if you have a sense of normalcy. I had jumped on roofs to get away from them. Cut scene, and I arrived at a huge treehouse in the middle of nowhere. I found two people there. We got to the kitchen and retrieved weapons, like knives. ‘They’ (they remain nameless and unrecognizable but I had a strong feeling that they are antagonistic and lethal) came for us, so I jumped off the window, but I was still caught. They took me back to my school, the classrooms looked like the ones in secondary in my real school, except some downstairs are like the lobby in the primary campus. I saw three of my closest friends during our first lesson. They seemed normal, but somehow out of reach. We were stuck learning with other younger children. The teacher in the dream, is actually my headmaster (in real life he’s a power control fair-but-not-really freak who is cynical to anyone who gets in his way) asked (in his cynical usual annoying voice) for all our talents. One friend said that she can speak the English form of Hindi, and another said he can speak German, the teacher was impressed. I said I can speak French and Thai, and that I can speak at least 5 phrases from every European language, and he became bitter and mean to me and about it. We had a quiz, where we listened to songs and wrote down the song name, or the artist. Class was over, and I had to find a way to escape. I saw a sign, where they said all of the school’s policies. One of them said that all of the school’s water is from the public wasteland. I longed to get an escape, but I just couldn’t find a way out.

And then I envision the ending of my dream as my vision actually being a webcam, I see a blond-haired child who was typing some kind of code to me. It was just numbers, but somehow he keyed the wrong ones, and the mother appears out of nowhere and tears the kid away from my sight in a very… demonic, possessive kind of way.
Oh man. My dreams literally consists of the sequels of Warm Bodies, and Paranormal Activity.

Dream meanings:
Mean teacher: I’m putting too much pressure for me to succeed.
Education: desire for knowledge. I’m at a higher level than my peers.
Running away from school: not facing my problems.
Hiding: hiding and withholding some information
Escaping: it signifies my need to escape from a restrictive situation or attitude. Alternatively, it suggests that I’m refusing to face your problems. I am avoiding the situation, instead of confronting them.

Great. My brain’s trying to tell me that I’m a temperamental secretive overachiever for all this time.

And because I’m doing this, I might as well treat WordPress as some kind of shrink and Dreammoods as my neurological expert.

I do have another dream to tell, which is a lot more survival, and a lot more ‘thrill’ in it’, but I’ll work on the meanings of my dream later. I even had a short scene in a dream that I was in a video game version of The Hunger Games. Bye.

“The Memoirs of Olivia”: Blurb

31 May

[CURRENTLY BEING UPDATED]

Back With A New Story To Tell? + Original Story’s Prologue Excerpt

17 Feb

Sorry about that. I had to like, not visit this site for more than 3 months. Unexplained reason.

BUT life goes on.

I’m back, and Happy New Year & Chinese New Year, but this is probably WAY too late so I’m going to cut to the chase.

I’ve been starting a novel/short story/full story attempt/whatever you call it that will probably end up on eBay, since… last month? I can’t remember. And I just wanted to post a little excerpt of it here. Dat okay wit u? Haha. That was my stoner talk.

It doesn’t have a name yet, I could NEVER name something then write about it (poems, stories), because it just feels manipulative to me. This…. piece of writing/novel/story/art is actually inspired by lots of books I have heard about in my short life of 13. I can only be inspired by something I’ve never read or watched. It’s a dystopian/romance/science fiction/fantasy/adventure kind of me-ness, although I am hoping to add some thriller into it (as if the…novel isn’t dark enough already). I would like to try comedy next time, if you please, but somehow I end up in dark fantasy, every single time.

 This work is really personal to me, and the first half of the short prologue is really romantic and full-on/slap in the face romance (please don’t judge a book by it’s prologue) but it changes COMPLETELY for the rest of the storyline. Romance will thrown big bits in here and there: my main storyline is basically jacked up and dramatic so…. yeah.

This is not the full thing, just bits and pieces of it, just enough for you to grasp what’s it about:

Prologue

     

 

     

 

      In the striking autumn of 1793, pumpkin orange and faint green leaves began to fall. It’s September, and the cool wind was casually breezing through. Mellowness and the serenity of the trees blended into each other like a drink.  Liberté, égalité, fraternité. The Reign of Terror couldn’t reach here, not by far.

      Sitting on a bench by the Touloubre river, Remember Bellentine organized her flowers. Purple foxgloves, violet-blue irises, and small lilac-colored Rosemary bushes.

She picked them one by one.

       “Remember! There you are! J’ai cherché pour toi!” A familiar voice shouted.

      Remember turned herself around from her wooden bench. She beamed and her solitary thoughts were eased away.

       “I have been sitting here, waiting for you, Stephen,” she said giddily, her voice as gentle as a snowflake, if it had a voice. It sounded like something heavenly: the harps playing, or a chorus of angels singing, the sound of the morning sun absorbing into delicate plants, or even maybe all at once. Maybe neither of them, but possibly just something that made the guy’s heart race.

      “That is my English name. Would you mind if you call me the French equivalent of my name, Étienne?” Étienne said playfully, walking towards Remember on the smooth hill.

      “I’m aware of that! Now, I’m betting that you’re wondering what an American girl could possibly have to do with France?”

      Étienne reached Remember and sat down with her, smiling. “Quite frankly, yes.”

      Étienne stared at the mesmerizing river. It’s dusk, and the pinkish golden glow of the sun refracted into the flowing water of whitish-aqua. Breezes flowed through Remember’s long, fair platinum blonde hair and across her heart-shaped face. Remember gathered her courage up to peek at Étienne when he wasn’t looking, with her hazel eyes. He had an ambitious and charming color around him and in everything he did. She noticed his suave-and-beaming hair, short layers parted at center and loosely scattered on his face, with long, wavy layers cut around the sides of his head. His eyes were a certain color of blue-grey, like a blue sky with grey clouds. Remember wondered if Étienne knows that his very own eyes, were more mesmerizing than the very river in front of them.

      Étienne looked away from river and looked back at Remember with a pleasant smile. Remember shyly looked away. They both know that they have chemistry between them, but they couldn’t bear to say it. It was taboo for interracial romance; but Remember was a strange combination of soft and sweet but at the same time semi-fierce and strong; she just can’t seem to leap out of her security blanket. The girl was like a soft and vulnerable kitten, with some streaks of tigress blood. But at that moment, she felt like she was ready to jump out and declare her love openly to Étienne. In that moment, she felt like she was ready to jump out and just act on something, that shows a passionate emotion, for once in her life. She could—

      “Remy!”

       Étienne looked horrified.

      Blood.

      Trickling down her nose, red liquid oozed down onto her pink lips.

      Étienne’s eyes were in panic and worry. “Remy! Listen to me! You caught the plague? Why didn’t you tell me? Please tell me! I’d rather you live in vain plagued with disease than die this way!”

      Remy looked pale; her skin was now a sickly white. “I didn’t know! I always thought I was strong enough to not be—“ she coughed violently, “—erased. This…energy I have could not live inside my mind any longer. I cannot fathom why…”

      “Do not leave me like this! No, no, no, no!” He looked broken and desperate.

      “The….future, very few people will remain with Cardiency. But right now, there are still people who could really keep this alive, not just us.”

      Gusts of wind were blowing ferociously. A small inanimate butterfly-like part fluttered its way to Remember’s hands; an fallen orange leaf.                                                                                 

      Remember whispered slowly and faintly: “I love you…”

 

…Year 3005                                                                                                               

      On the floor. Motionless. It was a horrific sight, but was it beautiful.

       Down the carefully and strategically placed “balcony” made of poor wood, was a beautiful girl laying on a concrete floor. Everything was in place, with her face on the ground like the last piece of a puzzle, or how a room would feel cozy with that special something present in the room. Finally, it makes sense. Finally. Streaks of well-cared and straight light honey blonde corn silk were, for once, disorganized and ruffled in the damaging air and the harsh environment.  It still looked perfect.

      “Looks like it’s another case of the disease this week, sir,” a brown-haired man observed, gesturing towards the poor girl.

      “What a shame, isn’t it, Tom?” another considerably older man remarked sadly, “We could’ve used her.”

      Flash.  Photographs were taken, clicks in odd rhythms. The investigators that came from within the building itself were apparently not used to the façade of the school and how it works; it wasn’t an ordinary place after all. Flash. But there was another reason. Shaking and trembling hands of a scared photographer. They were scared. The disease is spreading all over the still-developing and earthy remains of New York City after the disastrous near-wipeout calamity decades ago. And those who now die, wouldn’t have taken the disease well.

      People stopped by to watch the flawless moonlit corpse on the slightly wet pavement, with some of the aghast  surrounding the body, murmuring “it’s Heather” and “Yeoman is dead” in muffled voices. Only in just a few seconds, lots of students came gathering from the inner building of the school; you could hear quickened foot pacing from them. The hallways looked strangely eerie, the sickening odor combination of wet paint and glue only contributed to the suspicion raising when you visit it at first sight. It just doesn’t look appealing to the eye. Its construction must have been rushed to find a safety rabbit hole where they thought the disease couldn’t reach: underground and dirty classrooms that would suffocate a person, the walls painted a tampered bleach white. And with students (sixty or less) leaving the hallways empty, they flooded and consumed Heather Yeoman’s precious space.

Nach Suphakawanich ©

A Post of Sensible Nonsense: Apples Are Weird

24 Oct

Yesterday, I tried to make a blog, AND IT WON’T POST. HOW TWISTED IS THAT. But hey, I did post twice for this month, right? Oh well.

Today I’m going to be talking about apples. The first start of my blog series, A Post of Sensible Nonsense. It really reflects back to my blog, so yeah. There’s no reason of why I chose apples for this topic, but hey, apples start with A, the start of the alphabet!

There are many types of apples. They’re so weird, but they’re delicious. Although I hate those oxidized brown apples, those soggy ones that looks like they’ve been mummified and crucified for a hundred years? Ugh!

My favorite type of apples are: Golden Delicious and Honeycrisp. Golden Delicious apples are not exactly my normal everyday-type-of-apple, but they are the gold of the apples. They look yellow, sometimes warm yellow (come on, real gold apples only exist in Christmas trees as decorations), and is mostly tinted with green in it.

Another type of apple is Honeycrisp. These are my ultimate favorite.

Honeycrisp apples are known for its sweetness (hence the name: honey), its crispiness and its readiness to eat raw. These sensational apples are yellow, with red (sometimes pink) streaks on them.

That’s it for now. It’s not a promise, but I might come with another tomorrow or the day after. Another Love Language French lesson maybe? Or more of these? Comments below if you want. And HEY-HEY… les pommes (lay pomm) = means apples in French!

Bye-bye!

The Language of Love: A Lesson On French (Part 2)

13 Oct

Bonjour! I am back after another month’s hiatus (might start to think that I’ll be posting either weekly or monthly vlogs), I’ve been busy (the grade I’m in is kind of a transitional year for me and my classmates, dealing with the last year of slacking off, with next year being the hardest year ever). BUT….I have come to give you another French lesson (guess what I’ve been also working hard at keeping up in French at school)

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Today we’ll be talking about conjugations. French is harder than it seems, there are three types of verbs, the ones that end with -er (easiest), -ir and -re. We’ll be going through -er today.

For example: the verb aimer (to like).

To utilize this verb, what do you use? Pronouns!

Je (juh) = I

Tu (tiw) = you (informal)

Il (Eel) = him

Elle (elle) = her

Nous (noo) = we

Vous (voo) = you (formal, and used to strangers or someone older than you)

Ils/Elles (eel/elle) = they (whether it’s ils or elles it depends on the noun)

So. Still with me?

When put an -er verb like aimer (to like) or manger (to eat: pronounced = mahnge-jer.) or parler (to talk) next to a pronoun, it transforms into something else. This makes your sentences/speaking make sense. For example:

Pronoun Conjugation Overall Meaning

Je mange I’m eating, I eat

Tu *manges you’re eating, you eat

Il mange he’s eating, he eats

Elles mange she’s eating, she eats

Nous mangons (mahn-jong) we’re eating, we eat

Vous mangez (mahn-jay) you’re eating, you eat

Ils or Elles *mangent they’re eating

*The pronunciation remains like the conjugation mange.

Example phrases?

Je mange mes frites (Juh mahnge may freet) = I’m eating my french fries (or chips, or crisps)

Extension of the lesson:

J’adore manger les bonbons = I love eating candy.

See you later! Salut, but while you’re waiting for my next blog, enjoy some modern pop French songs maybe?

The Language of Love: A Lesson On French (Part 1)

21 Sep

So…. I am back after almost a month hiatus…. and I started French class after a one year break….and I might as well give you a brief lesson on this!

Let’s start with the ultimate beginning of every word, every introduction, of every class. Bonjour (bon-jour), which means hello, or good afternoon in a way.

There are many hoo-has and tricks in French…. but you’ll survive with introductory phrases (I will maybe post a Part 2 later in the future).

Je means I,

mon means my.

appelle (a reflective verb but more on later) means name (sort of).

When you want to introduce yourself to another person, you use the phrase Je m’appelle….<your name> (pronunciation: Juh mahpelle……). This translated properly means I call myself……, not my name is…….In my case, I would say: Je m’appelle Nach.

Here are other introductory phrases:

Oui (wee) = yes

Non (nong) = no

Je suis français (Juh swee frongsay) *note that you don’t write your nationality in starting with a capital letter and that you should pronounce frongsay with a short ‘say’ = I am French.

Ma nationalité est Américain (mah nationlitay eh Americain) = My nationality is American.

Je t’aime (juh taime) = I love you.

Merci (merhcee) = Thank you.

J’ai 10 ans (jeh deece ons) = I am 10 years old. (Note that this phrase means I have 10 years of age, this is just how it works in French…. there are no other ways to say it, sorry)

J’aime faire mes devoirs (jayme fair meh dehvwah) = I like doing my homework. (LOL).

Je déteste ranger ma chambre (juh dehtest rahnge-jay ma charmb) = I hate to clean my bedroom (or I hate cleaning my bedroom)

Au revoir (auh rayvwah BUT when you say it you simply shorten the phrase to au vwah!) = goodbye

That’s it for now. Au revoir!

Advice: This ‘Thing’ Called Love and Why It Sometimes Doesn’t Work Out

2 Sep

I am back! Today I’m gonna talk about love. Now hell, I’m no expert on love what I’ll take what I can get and give them to you, because I think that some people (especially teenagers) lack of knowing this, and that I believe this blog will make the world a better place. :)

Have you ever been sick and tired of this stereotypical love? Ever wondered why relationships and marriages fail so easily these days, like torn fabric? When girls take their boyfriends shopping, eating, and think that he is the one? The perfect guy?

Well huns and candies, like I said before in my previous blog, Overrated Femininity, there’s no such thing called a perfect guy. Trust me. The key to have a successful marriage and a successful relationship is something that’s beneath a relationship. Something NO ONE seems to see or overlook.

It’s friendship. It’s that easy! They say the best relationships start with friendship and getting to know each other. Those girls who go to third base right away with their brand-new boyfriend won’t last long with him. You have to get to know each other, find common interests, find their strengths, their beauties, their flaws, and accept one another. See, some types of love roots back and originates from friendship. Now when you get to a relationship with that friend, you use your roots (friendship and interests) to make the relationship last longer. When you don’t know anything about your girl/guy except the fact she’s pretty/he’s handsome, it will never work out. Marriages may also start from friendship, and as time progresses, the couple would stop talking about the things they like to do together, the things they love, their mutual hobbies. And the marriage would lose its charm. Come on.

You might think: “Friendship? I knew that, I don’t need you to teach me”, read this first. Friendship is that hidden layer in the relationship dimension. Stereotypical people fail to see that, then next thing you know: breaking up. And those common feminist—which is overrated—stuff usually comes from girls who have nothing better to do, who broke up with a ‘perfect’ person, who didn’t even start the relationship with friendship or break it off with friendship. Those girls who don’t know a thing about their ex or current beau, they would complain how all guys are the same (because relationships would naturally break off without mutual interest). I feel sorry for those people because they would never find true love. Friendship is nothing better. Thank you for reading this rant, just figured it would clear my mind.

Cheers, I would like to toast to the word ‘love’ and how it benefits deserving good people and troubles unknowing people. Enjoy.

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