Category Archives: Lucid Dreams


The past couple of days have been very Biology intensive revision session, and bits of it finally made its way inside my head. Somehow, I miss my AS Biology lessons back in Mantin, with all my classmates in it. Hitchman and his evolution theory. The weekly “humiliation” sessions where all our “notes” were checked. Here’s a confession. I can’t get over Bio. Scroll down for pictures from my dear Biology teacher’s farewell party.

(Amended from David Guetta & Chris Willis ft. Fergie and LMFAO – Getting Over You)

If all the things I learn right now,

If I remember like back then,

There’s no getting over, no getting over,

No getting over bio.

Wish I could spin my world into reverse,

And have Hitchman back again,

No getting over, no getting over,

No getting over you!

It’s back!

Hey hey I can’t forget you Bio

I think about cells everyday

I tried to masquerade the pain

That’s why I’m sitting on the desk

St-st-st study to the night

There is no, there is no getting over you

To study to the mid-midnight

The osmosis between notes and I, retreat to the morning light.

We like to study like class,

Debate Darwin in the class,

But there is no, there is no getting over you

I’m a study, and study, and study and sta and sta

and study, and study, and study and sta and sta

People in the place,

If you’ve done Bio,

Then you know what I’m talking about

There is no getting over


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Passionate Affair

Semi-darkness, sitting quietly. Luring me in. Effortless attraction. Unable to resist, I made myself to be let in. Past midnight. Ungodly hour. Just the two of us. Heavy breathing. I could feel the blood rushing to my face. Losing control.

Ripped it off.

Held closer.

Intoxicated by its smell, I press on with my lips.

Wrapped my wet, moist tongue against it.

Gently clasped my jaws over, biting sensuously.

Ecstasy takes over.

I bite.

Impromptu Fantasie.

So smooth. So silky. Like dark brown eyes staring back at thee.

It goes down my throat.

Sinful indulgence.

Chocolate (say it like the French do).

Sweet Dreams

I feel the heat. The stench of rotten rubbish in the sun, the sweat, the hawker stall. One thing I appreciate about having a cold is its ability to make you sleep like a baby all day long. Which was exactly what I did today. For a couple of hours, I was ‘transported’ back to my home land. I pictured a milder version of India, but with the culture, language, corruption and ingenuity of the spices in a hot bowl of Rogan Josh.

Oh, how I miss the tandoori and the naan under the stars at Pak Putra. Or the diarrhea inducing ‘teh tarik‘ due to expired milk, the outstanding ‘asam pedas‘ at the corner shop in Melaka, ‘Cendol‘ under the tree (I hope the old man running the stall is still alive and well when I get back) and most importantly, mummy’s ‘Nasi Lemak‘. The ‘siput sedut masak lemak cili api’ (the Malaysian, spicier version of escargot), the laksa, the regular ‘Nasi Goreng Kampung‘, ‘Keli Masak Lemak Cili Api‘ (catfish stir-fried in hot chilli), ‘Pucuk Rebung‘ (young bamboo shoots), and I can go on and on and on.

I had a slightly queer episode in my dreams where a young man in baju melayu was giving me unwanted attention (but in a civil kind of way, not perverted or anything) and I was dressed in a cheongsam when he came over in his motorbike. He was asking me out, and I was replying, ‘Yeah, okay. Wait. Let me get changed.’

Another scene in my dream was some big boss/CEO/head of a mafia was asking for my hand in marriage and I told him he’s got to speak to my mother first. He proceeded to arrange for his private jet to shoo us to Malaysia and I was jumping around ‘Rejoice! Rejoice!’ once we touched down on the tarmac at KLIA.

Haha. Yeah. Dream on.

Oh, Malaysia. How do I miss thee, let me count the foooood. . .

Never Sleep Next to a Baguette

Two days ago I bought a baguette. Half eaten, I kept in on the sofa next to my bed. While I was sleeping that night, I had images of baguette topped with cream cheese and canned peaches, baguette with lettuce, tomato, and mozzarella filling, buttered baguette eaten with creamy mushroom soup, baguette sandwich made with crab sticks, lettuce and salad cream, sliced baguette with soft cheese and smoked salmon. . . baguette, baguette, baguette.

I woke up halfway through my baguette filled dreams and took a bite off it (couldn’t resist, it smelled so good ) and was really tempted into heating up some soup, slather it with plenty of butter and have supper. I summoned up a good deal of will power and relocated the devil to my writing desk, which is on the opposite end of the room.

Baguette dream made real at breakfast the next day. Buttered baguette with cream of mushroom.

I found my new love.


Je t’aime.

Facebook in My Dreams

I was counting notifications in my sleep, and giggling over a comment on a funny picture on Facebook last night – in my dreams. I confess to being a Facebook addict and writing on my wall or FB Chat is one of the most convenient ways of reaching me, but Facebooking in my dreams? Whoa. I think I may need a  rehab.

I was jolted out of my slumber by a thought at the back of the head saying ” You’re giggling in your sleep? Over a Facebook comment?” And a second voice answering, “What??” That was when my eyes flew open.  I jumped out of bed, fought out of the duvet, banged the wall in the process and sleepwalked to the bathroom (nature called). After washing my hands under ice cold running tap water, I looked at my reflections.

Whoa. Get a grip, woman! Don’t let Facebook take over your life!

Eid Adha Kareem to all fellow Muslims!

P.S: I think I may be the only one wearing a baju kurung on campus today =.= but whatever! Raya Malaysian style babeyh!