Sunday, 15 Aug 04
I was kind of sleeping in the early afternoon and I vaguely remembered this dream that I had – something related to my primary school teachers. I think, in the dream they were portrayed as evil people with this snarling look on their faces… distinctively remembered Ms Cheong (now Mrs Peh) – my primary 5 & 6 form teacher and Mrs Beins (the form teacher of 6F, the class next door to mine – I was from 6G)… and the strange thing is that, both teachers were in a MRT train. And this is quite weird because the MRT train has been featuring quite prominently in my dreams and the characters are all portrayed as evil, though I know them to be very good people / friends. Before this dream I had today, I dreamt that I was abandoned by this very good friend of mine (you’re a guy and you read my blog) and his friend, whom I also know. Maybe it has something to do with foretelling the recent spate of people falling off the MRT tracks?
Or maybe, it has something to do with the ES 102 text that we’re studying now – The Palace of Dreams by Ismail Kadare. The book is supposedly set in late 19th C Albania (Kadare does not specifically state the setting but gives hints to it). In it, the main character Mark-Alem is appointed to work in the Tabir Sarrail (Palace of Dreams) – the most important government institution in Albania. Basically, the job of the Tabir Sarrail is to collect the dreams of everybody in the vast empire, and interpret the dreams. For it is said that “dreams can foretell the rise and fall of empires”… Every Friday, the officers will present the “Master-Dream” to the Sultan and this is the most important dream of the entire week… The book is terribly sinister because it highlights the creepiness of the complex institution, which is shrouded in a labyrinth of tunnels literally. There is also the process of “undreaming”, where officials send for the person who dreamt the dream and force him to erase the dream from his mind by torturing and killing him… and this is subtly highlighted by Kadare in Pg 100.
I quote him: “Mark-Alem, having just reached the stretch of corridor below the window, looked up at the rectangle of light as though from the bottom of an abyss. He was just about to go around the corner when suddenly, in this universe of the deaf and dumb, he thought he heard a noise. He stopped and listened. It sounded like footsteps approaching. Perhaps it’s the caretakers checking that the doors are shut, he thought. He was about to go on when more sounds rooted him to the spot. This time they were nearer, and seemed to come from another passage that crossed the main corridor. Mark-Alem flattened himself against the wall and waited. My God, he exclaimed inwardly when he saw a group of people coming out from the side passage carrying on their shoulders a black coffin. They didn’t notice him, and disappeared down a continuation of the passage from which they had come. It must be that dreamer from the provinces, he thought, as the sound of footsteps faded in the distance…”
According to Caroline Finander, this text is relevant to the unit because it is actually an allegory of the Soviet oppression of Eastern Europe (the book was written in 1981). It indirectly compares the Palace of Dreams to a totalitarian SU government prying into the lives of ordinary people and imposing a culture of terror on the people. As in, dreams are the most private sphere of a person. No one can know what you dream, right? It’s somewhat similar (the style of writing) to George Orwell’s 1984 too.
I think, the idea of my uprootedness to Oz has not really sunk in yet…As in, it still seems to me like yesterday –
1) The days when daryl me and jw would just hang around at HMV or Bugis doing nothing.
2) The time when I was singing “Up Saints, truest fame lies in high endeavour, play the game, keep the flame burning brightly ever…”
3) The days when I’ll be in the dining hall talking to students about “growing up, boys & girls, “love”, Geography, Hitler, and my dislike for Mrs H (the secondary section coordinator).
Australian Idol, not Singapore Idol.
Neighbours, not Under One Roof.
Pasta, not rice.
SuperValu / Woolworths / Coles, not NTUC.
Mobile phone, not handphone.
Anthropology, not Sociology.
Telstra / Optus / VirginMobile, not Singtel / M1 / Starhub.
Post / Western Suburbs, not Streats / TODAY.
Hungry Jacks, not Burger King.
Catch u later, not bye-bye.
And I think the most important change in my life here:
Will, not cheow.
I remembered there was this day when I was at the Reid Library (the main library) borrowing out a book. The librarian scanned my card and said:
Librarian: “We (!) noticed that your name is quite interesting”.
*swivels the computer around so I can see it*
The computer writes:
Patron name: “LEE CHEOW LIT @ WILL LEE”
Librarian: “It’s an alias right?”
Me: “Yeah…”
Librarian: “That means it’s a legal name because it is in the system”.
Me: “Yup of course…”
Librarian: “That’s very unusual. Most foreign students (i.e. us) just give themselves a Christian name so it’d be easier to call them. But your’s legal!” (and her face is one of astonishment)
This reminds me of another incident. At the airline ticket company where I bought my air ticket…
Salesgirl: “Can I have the names of you and your father please?”
Me: “LEE CHEOW LIT @ WILL LEE and LEE CHAY PIN”.
Salesgirl: “I believe LEE CHEOW LIT is your father’s name right?”
Me: “No it’s the other way round”.
Salesgirl: “Oops sorry. I thought it was your dad that had the alias. Because most aliases belong to older people”.
Me (feeling slightly turned off): “Yeah I understand. My grandmother has an alias too”.
But hey, I’m still a cheow to you if you’ve always known me to be one haha. In fact, I’m getting Singaporeans / Malaysians here to call me cheow too. =)