Just another trick of the mind... I hope.

I've been feeling sad, lately. Melancholic. Missing those good times in the past.

Last Sunday, after my Financial Management test and doing a presentation on the ETP (not to mention sitting in on others' presentations), I was mentally exhausted, and fell asleep, after my Zohor prayers.

I dreamt that I was in my home town, in Muar, but I was desperate to go home to my family in Shah Alam. But, I had so much trouble finding a bus ticket, that, I woke up, a good two hours later (though, it seems much shorter than that, as dreams usually goes), feeling lost and lonely. It doesn't help also, to go out of my room to find the living room empty. It was filled with my children either watching TV or playing computer games at the time I retired.

This is not a good sign.

I am not one to believe in signs from dreams. But, it bothers me when my dreams do not seem to have any connections with the things I was thinking about within 24 hours of the time I fell asleep. I mean, if I dreamed of floods or rain or going to school, or one of those "I forgot there's an exam today" dreams, I'll brush it off. They're just my mind making up stories of the things happening around me.

It's not a good sign because, the last time I had these melancholic dreams.... Someone passes away.....

And, I often wonder, if this time it's my turn. Not that I'm afraid to die... but, I pray that God would give me time at least to see all my children are ok (as per my past blog- http://sbjaafar.blogspot.com/2010/08/only-until-everybodys-ok.html)

I hope it was just a dream....

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A letter from my mother

Today, on the first day of Ramadhan in the 52nd year of my life, while I was rummaging through some old stuff, I came across a letter written to me by my mother, folded and enveloped into a prescription drug package. My mother taught herself to write in Rumi, so some words are quite difficult to figure out. She was probably more comfortable writing in Jawi, but she knew her son is useless at reading it. The letter was not dated, but I would say it was written circa 1985, the year that I dropped out of UTM. The letter was an angry letter, as angry as my dearest mother would be. I cannot remember the occasion that warranted such letter, but I think I must have said something that hurt her. She wrote that I should have told her or father (unlikely) or my brothers and sisters that I am having difficulties in my studies. She wrote that I have ostracized myself from my family, and she understood that I did this because I do not want to be any more a burden to my parents and my sibli...

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The road to hell is paved with good intents....

Once there was a man who all his life have nothing but good intentions. But, everybody in his village said that he was the devil. He robbed and maimed. He killed and destroyed. When he was caught and brought to justice, his defense was that he was only trying to feed his family. When he was growing up, he was not good at school. The teachers all say he was hopeless, his father thought he was an embarrassment, his siblings thought he was a burden, society keep reminding him that the world would be a better place if he wasn't in it. Only his mother saw him differently. Only his mother loved him because he was her son.... and for no other reason. And later, he met the woman of his dreams and married her and had beautiful children and he vowed that they will never ever go through life as he did. He swore on his life, that he will do anything to ensure his children go the best schools, eat the best foods, wear the best clothes, grow up to have the best jobs, to be whatever they as...

Life's Remains....

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