on sunday night monday morning

i had a dream. i was leading a squad of soldiers into a sunny battle zone, an urban area. we went into an abandoned building with beige walls, HDB coloured, bombed out and ruined. (why the hell was i the leader anyway? i'm never a commander). we were walking along a corridor that intersected another corridor in a T junction. we must have been pretty green. when the point man crossed the corner into the next corridor he was cut down by a burst of bullets. he took a hit to the head first then several into his body. his body armour didn't stop anything. we must have been green, because everyone freaked out. the second point man was shooting wildly without leaning out of the corner, whoever it was on the other side was shooting back i could see the bullets dusting up the walls and floor of the corridor the rest of the squad was screaming holy jesus right through the body armour i pulled the second point man away from the corner and yelled at everyone to get ready we were going to rush the corridor. it was an semi-automatic shotgun i carried, like a benelli, and i stuck it into the corridor and blasted away. i emptied all the rounds all sprayshot all over the corridor hoping for the best and immediately yelled for the squad to rush in firing. they went, while i reloaded, and the clarity of the dream dissipates.


i know the first of them must have died. i know they were walking into a bad setup because i didn't have a look at what was around the corner. i didn't want them to freak out any more and chicken out and so i made a show of clearing the path and sent them in to die. even if we eventually took the corridor and the building it would have been at the expense of so many lives.


when clarity returns in the dream i am standing next to a soldier, he could be one of the squad but he is older than me, he is sitting down on a chunk of concrete in a sandy patch near some trees, he is very sad. he has taken off his helmet and is holding his water bottle, his rifle is lying to one side his webbing is loosened and he is very engrossed in his sadness, almost to the point of crying. i am sad too, but i think i am sad because i see him, not because of the same reason he is sad. i do not know why he is sad, only that he is sad.


i must be cruel or heartless then.


later on i am riding my bike alongside a good friend whom i am sure i do not have in real life. he is riding a black bike, he wears no helmet, we are being funny on the road, very dangerous. he reaches over to my clutch while we ride on the expressway, and pulls it in so that i lose power. we push each other's handlebars, at one point i try to kick him away. we are fooling around with no regard for safety or life, trying to switch off ignition and force gear changes on the move. finally he fools around too much, speeding ahead and then coming back against traffic head on to play chicken with me. i dodge, he wins, there is a crash behind me. in the mirror i see a car and a traffic cop's bike crash. i don't stop. i don't turn back. i keep going, then turn off into a park. i'm off the road onto the grass. i ride past some picknickers, then cross a narrow wooden bridge. i have to cross a stream. i get stuck. the bike doesn't fall over but i am stuck poised on one wheel trying to get out, frozen. no amount of revving can make the bike move.


what does it mean. who am i. why do i feel so impure.