(The Story of Light - William Orbit)

Because of Starhub’s Safesurf filter, I cannot even access my Deviantart account now.
It did not give me any problems before this, but I think they are starting to block the server since two days ago.
The site can be reached but the images there just would not load up.
I understand that I can easily use a proxy to circumvent this but it can get real troublesome at times.
I will bear no grudges if it filters out the adult websites out there but not Deviantart please, no!
Starhub’s getting a little too much.
Ahh, good thing I have my photos over at my Flickr account as well.

The worst thing about being in a nightmare is:

Not being able to run, thus escape.

In this dream, I noticed this tall black figure with an almost perfect posture just outside my toilet looking out of the kitchen window with both hands on the grilles. I asked Ayah, who was in the dream as well,

“Ayah, itu siapa?” (Father, who’s that?)

And Ayah replied,

“Entah.” (I don’t know.)

I shouldn’t have asked. So we had to inspect it closer since the both of us were in the living room. I’m not sure where the rest of my family were in that dream, though Ayah and I suspected that figure to be any of them. But, before we could even land a foot in the kitchen, I realised that the figure’s hands were no longer placed on the grilles. And that’s when I panicked.

From that moment on, every single body movement of mine was painfully slowed down. Ayah, who was initially just beside me, was no longer in the dream. I glanced at the window and was greeted with a ‘wonderful’ sight of that figure suspended in mid-air, flying towards me with hands outstretched and reaching for me — how its face looked like, I didn’t take notice.

No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t move much in my desperate attempt to run away. Everything became so dark, the flying wonder could’ve easily blended with the surroundings — it felt as if I had my eyes closed, but I’m sure I wasn’t since I could still see it inching nearer and nearer to where I was. I wanted to shut everything out from my view but somehow something prevented me, so the best I could do was just to look down at my feet.

Bad choice.

I just froze in that position and I couldn’t even close my eyes. The next thing I saw in my hazy vision was a pair of black hands ultra-slowly but surely, breaching into my field of sight, going for my ankles.

AND I STILL COULDN’T MOVE!

Somehow, I thought that thing had already landed infront of me since after grabbing my ankles, I saw the back of its head next — it appeared as if it’s crouching infront of me and looking at its hands which were already around my ankles.

I wanted to scream badly but my mouth had its own thinking.

Then, when I thought that everything had paused since I was left in that same position for what seemed like an eternity, I realised that the figure was actually beginning to look up,

SLOWLY BUT SURELY.

Oh. It couldn’t have gotten any worse than this:
(Slowly but surely)
I saw its forehead,
(I was struggling, trying to kick and punch)
then the superthick eyebrows,
(I tried to scream, really forced my jammed mouth to open)
and just, just as I was about to meet its eyes,

I felt myself giving a kick with my left leg and at the same time letting out a low but loud moan, feeling almost liberated. I woke up and immediately sat up from the pile of cushions I was sleeping on and clutched my left foot in pain since I had actually kicked the coffee table beside me during the struggle. The intensity of that dream was so great that I had to rub my temple to ease my aching head a bit.

I heard the call of prayer coming from my laptop signalling the time for solat Subuh.

“Astaghfirullah,” I muttered, relieved.

Speaking of dreams, I recently had one that had me praying in the wrong direction of Qiblah and messing up the orders of the solat.

I’m not amused by these games of Iblis laknatullah and his shaytan, not the slightest bit.

(AFI - Love Like Winter)

“Here she is, the Beau.”

Before I begin, I’d like to proclaim my utmost dislike towards my neighbour:

“Can you please keep your dolls within the confines of your own house?!”

My weird neighbour has this habit of displaying his newly-collected dolls along the corridor near to the staircase. But there’s nothing new about these dolls and they aren’t really the pretty types — they’re mostly dolls that babies love to play with: those that can eeriely close and open their eyes when you move them. I’m not sure where he collected these plastics, but their ragged and messed-up looks suggest they could’ve probably been left in the dump for quite a while before this ‘thoughtful’ neighbour adopted them and allowed them to reside here along this corridor of ours.

What would you do if late one night after you’ve climbed up the stairs dead and tired and for the most part had your eyes fixed at the neverending steps thinking of absolutely nothing but your bed, when you finally reach the final flight you look up only to be greeted by a pair of stupid dolls sitting just beyond the last step in a chair and worse still facing in your direction — like they’ve been expecting your arrival?!

What would you do if you come across these two stupid dolls that weren’t even there earlier when you left the house?

Easy. Your heart will get stuck in your throat, your body will shake, and your immediate response will be to let out an expletive or expletives depending on how well you’ve been juggling your vocabulary.

I was thinking of snapping a photo of that stupid doll but its eyes appeared too real to be plastic. So for now, I won’t disturb it too much.

Stupid dolls. Stupid neighbour.

Anyways, my cousins are mostly married and all of them have their little ones already. Here’s one of the little ones whom I only got to know last week after all these years:

(Eyes Set To Kill - Reach)

I’ve been wondering my Ibu’s questionable act of placing a pot of jasmine just outside our unit along the corridor.

Frankly speaking, since the day she displayed them there, entry into the house has become a total challenge altogether. Usually as the creeps climbs my back and the chill strokes my neck, locating the keyhole of the padlock takes about a minute and my door requires another minute — I’ll most probably be sweating my soul out and glancing behind a thousand times just in case a ‘friend’ decides to play.

I swear this seemingly simple effort increases exponentially in difficulty as the the world loses its light;
Suddenly I can’t even manage my hand-eye coordination;
My tongue changes to wood (both in taste and texture);
My pulses all throb at a point just underneath my Adam’s apple.

All these thanks to the haunting smell of jasmine floating from behind my back.
And Bedok’s such a favourite spot for them.

(Lydia - Laugh Before You Grin)

How’d you tell the ones you love
That you can’t get back home on time?
We’re more concerned here
With the manner of leaving.