Saturday, May 28, 2011

Zombie and Architecture Superhero dreams

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Okay this is going to be a short and possibly weird post about two dreams I had, one yesterday and one the day before. Let’s start with the zombie dream.

(Please note that, according to my mom, my dreams never make any sense, or have any point. let’s begin)

The scene unfolds where there are 2 people in a dark room, on a dark night. A Man and a woman. They are arguing, but not violently. The woman asks the man about an ex he used to have, and some issues she had with her. The man has his back to her, and is putting away folded laundry into the dresser. He looks at the woman through the mirror atop said dresser. Suddenly the woman hears soft, haunting singing coming from the window, and you can see a lady with blonde hair perched on the sill, singing. It is the man's ex. the woman asks, what is she doing here?? But the lady on the sill hides from the man's view. The man is about to wave it off when the lady appears in full frame of the window, this time laughing and singing hysterically. Her eyes are bloodshot and her hair is a tangle. Her face is terrible. She is a zombie. The woman is frozen in shock while the zombie lady scratches on the window pane and starts knocking on the glass. The man wheels around and then quickly turns back, rummaging frantically inside the dresser, and finally pulls out a revolver. The zombie starts pounding on the glass and the woman is shaken out of her frozen state and starts screaming in terror. The man aims and fires off a shot, killing the zombie. But just as she falls dead another zombie, this time a man (who was infatuated with zombie lady) appears and is furious that the love of his life is dead. He bangs on the window and another shot is fired, and he also drops dead. The man and woman stand there breathing hard when the bushes start trembling and out bursts a whole legion of zombies, who start smashing the windows. There are too many zombies, and not enough bullets. The man and woman crouch down and run through the house trying to find an escape from the inevitable.
Darkness ensues.
The end.

n.b. I don’t know anything about zombies so the accuracy of the happenings in my dream can’t be guaranteed. I’m heard zombies don’t die when you shoot them. Which is the problem I suppose.

The next dream is a short one. It features me and my siblings, and we form a legion of superheroes with architectural powers. The mission was to erect column on an empty hall that was going to be used as a wedding hall for my cousins wedding. I was the master commander person who orchestrated and directed the whole operation. In my dream there was a real sense of urgency, as if you were fighting evil, even though it was just putting up columns. I suppose we were chasing a deadline. So my brother, rec man, would zap out 4sided shapes also known as squares onto the floor. My other brother would color it, he was b man (b is the shortcut for paint bucket in sketchup) then there's p woman, who could push/pull like that sketchup tool. And together we successfully put up the required columns in a relatively quick time and our cousins got married happily in that hall.

Also, all of us architecture superheroes could fly!

Invasion of the floating cubes by ~saramondo

Friday, May 27, 2011

My rant against the world

Friday, May 27, 2011

//be forewarned. This is a rant//

I feel like a kid who, after being told to be a good boy or else Santa won't be dropping by this year, finds out that not only was he not good enough, but that HAHA Santa isn’t real.
We are told that if we work hard, strive to do our best and be the top among the rest, that there will be some sort of reward at the end of it. That we will get what we want, because we tried and worked so hard for it. And being stupid and naive we believe this. Putting in all our efforts into trying to be the best because we want that bright future that is promised. Like donkeys and carrots. Why do they do that? And why did we believe them? In the end after doing our best, we EXPECT some sort or return. some sort of lauding from the world, a pat on the back saying, well done, chap. now that you've shown that you can jump over hurdles and make it through relatively unscathed, here's a little present to make your going forth a little bit easier. There will be more challenges, of course, harder ones, but if you do well enough, there’s another reward at the end of this tunnel, this road. Go forth, and prosper.


There isn’t. Being the best is not good enough. You have to be better than the best, and be sufficiently normal and extraordinary at the same time. You have to have the luck of a thousand rabbit’s feet, your pockets heavy with horse shoes, and your hands green from all the four leaf clovers you clutch. You have to have a spider web of strings you can pull on. You have to have a group of people holding you above their heads, pushing you into the limelight.

And after trying our hardest, when we don't get any kind of reward, we sit back and quietly cry, and then toughen up and tell ourselves that well, we were just not good enough, and so we try harder. And every time the same thing happens and we feel like giving up because having our hopes and spirits broken time and time again is tiring. But it’s our own fault. We were dumb enough to believe. And then we really feel like giving up but a part of us still says, no, you've still got to try. And try we do.

But this time with the jaded, disillusioned realisation that,

The world can never guarantee us anything.

But Allah can, and does.

p/s: I'm not usually this rant-y. Sorry about this. I have much to be thankful for, I know. I could be getting this all wrong as well. Happier posts are on the way!

note to self:

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Ya gerels :'(

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Just found out that my old Arabic teacher from high school passed away yesterday in a car crash in Sudan. Tr. El-Fateh was definitely one of the nicest and funniest teachers I ever had. Even the way he carried himself was light and limber. I remember getting into all sorts of laughing fits in his Arabic class as me and Zah would write the most absurd Arabic essays (one I distinctly remember was one about going to the moon to get cheese) but Tr. Fateh always laughed along with us, encouragingly. The 2 years I studied Arabic with him was when I picked up most of my Arabic. More than the 5 years I spent in Al-Amin. So much more. He also taught me geography, and I remember learning about Burkina Faso, at the time it was the first time I had heard of this country. He was so approachable too, you'd never be afraid to just walk into his office and have a chat, or use his office phone, or just sit down. And if he met you in the hallways outside of class, there was this one phrase he used to say that was hilarious. He you’d say Ya girls! "ya" as in "wahai" in Arabic. but the way he pronounced girls, it became a 2-syllable word, ge-rels.

He was a teacher to some, neighbor to many, vice-principal to the school, and friend to all. Teachers, and humans like him are rare to find, and his parting is a loss to the world, but Insha’Allah he is in a better place.

May Allah forgive his sins, bestow his mercy upon his soul and grant him the highest paradise, Jannatul el firdaus. Our prayers are with him and his family.


(C) 2014. Layout by shockresistant7

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...