သူမ၏အိပ်မက်
When she called me, I was sipping sweet Burmese tea and reading a book which I had bought last week, a collection of short stories set during the Japanese occupation. Outside, the dark clouds were forming, and soon the drizzle began, accompanied by a playful wind that shook the mango tree. Young buds and baby mangoes fell hard onto an old tin roof above me, making a loud rattling sound.
I pressed my phone hard against my ear and tried to keep up with her over the rain and traffic noise. She was telling me about a dream, she had dreamt of me. “You were wearing an immaculately white leather jacket and black jeans,” she told me. An outfit that was not my style at all. However, she made it sound both surprising and a little envious of my appearance in her dream. “You looked so great in it,” she said with a bit of sheepishness. I could barely resist laughing.
In her dream, I was standing in front of her old flat, where she used to live in Singapore. "It was a gloomy day". “The skies were dark, and it looked as if it was about to rain at any moment,” she told me. She was surprised to find me standing there, at her doorstep. I wasn’t alone, and I had company. “You were saying goodbye to me,” she said.
I do not know how people interpret dreams, but obviously, I had not got a clue how to interpret her dream: me, being well-dressed but looking truly impeccable in her dream and saying goodbye. We have known each other for over 15 years now, and over the course of those years, we went through thick and thin and stood by each other in our lows and highs. We used to have weekly catch-up calls, exchanging news, our dreams, and plans, but that stopped in October last year for no apparent reason. Just being too busy with life would be our excuse, although a lame one, but we do not justify it.