Friday, December 03, 2010

Twisted Metal, Shattered Dreams

I can't sleep. My neck and shoulders have seized up in pure fright and my stomach churns every time I close my eyes. Everything aches and terror drips like a broken washer, into my dreams.

I read something as innocuous as Lucia to drop off and then the moment I switch off the light I snap awake. I can't seem to get comfortable in my body. I keep expecting something to crash into me again.

I'm huddled in the corner on the look out for oncoming missiles.

The police station today: Chubs who had come here after a meeting in KL decided to take on role of good Samaritan. So he noticed that the old people who were forced to use the computers without guidance to file their reports were somewhat (more than) at a loss. I, busy filling out my own form, didn't.

When he pointed out one poor old woman who was really struggling, I gaily tripped over, asked her if she needed any help and proceeded to commandeer the mouse from her and fill out her report in no time at all. The result of which she was next in the queue after me.

And Chubs was just about to begin helping another old couple when I emerged from the questioning room, from whence he had been banished (drivers only, will the man in the black tee-shirt please wait outside?).

Tomorrow I'll call Ah Meng to come take the car and work his magic. Transform it from a thing of twisted metal and shattered dreams into a shiny dream of what once was.

Ya think?

Maybe I'll use this wakefulness to some good purpose.

Maybe I'll work till I fall asleep.

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