Sunday 7 October 2012

A Stream and a Tiger

I dreamt I was walking along a trunk road just outside a small Malaysian town. Beside me is a little forested area and I step in. A short walk later, I encounter Tony, my secondary school badminton coach. He invites me into his shop. It's a kind of wooden cabin and on its walls are hung all manner of sports equipment. From badminton racquets to mountain climbing gear. The best part is that his shop is cleft by a stream, right down the middle. To get over the other side, you'd have to step on rocks. The stream is bubbling and a-brooking and I find it all very enchanting and excellent for a shop engaged in the business of sports and adventure.

Tony and I chat and recount the good old days when we were but a ragtag bunch badminton players. Our school was small, only a single session, but we had quite a bit of talent. However, it was always just short of the very good playing schools. Still, dressed in our non-uniform gear - we didn't even have school jerseys - we did beat some fancy teams dressed in Yonex from head to toe, especially that memorable match against St Andrews. Like what some people say, looks can be deceiving.

In the next scene, I am in a factory warehouse office. It is open plan and I am working hard at my high stool desk on some handbook and it's already past 5pm. Set and MH, both colleagues from Thomson, are getting ready to leave. We make plans to meet at a pub.

I do meet them at a pub later but there's a commotion. A tiger seems to have gotten loose. We run to hide and get away.

I am in a room and perched on a window ledge. I look into the corridor to see if the tiger is there. Nothing. Then a stripey mat-like piece of raw paper slides down the hall way towards me. I sense that it is the tiger. For some reason it is invisible. the mat wobbles to beckon me to follow and so I do. 'We' arrive at a storeroom near the end of the corridor. Inside, there is a litter of pups; they seem hungry.

I go to the pub next door and get some raw steaks and feed it to them.

Later, when MH, Set and I are settled down for our beers, the tiger mom - looking emaciated - comes and thanks me. It doesn't say a word nor makes a sound... just gives me a grateful look. It then turns and returns to its pups.

MH and I wonder what a strange night it has been and continue to drink our beers.

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