Blue Cheese Dreams

So, a friend told me recently that blue cheese causes awesome (subjective) dreams when ingested right before going to sleep. I was at a swanky shopping centre with a swanky supermarket that sold okay-priced blue cheese, so I bought some. I also bought some grapes so that I can eat the cheese like a bawse.

I ended up consuming 20 odd grams of the stuff, accompanied with raisin bread and the aforementioned grapes (green thompson). Then I went to sleep 10 minutes later.

Of course I had a dream, the content of which made negative sense (I couldn’t even recall any of their songs from memory) but the context made perfect sense. This is how it went:


I was invited to jam with the famous canto-rock group Beyond, sans their famously dead lead singer. I was supposed to play the drums and one of them even showed me how easy it was. And so it was, for a while everything was fine and dandy.

And then, after an indeterminate period of time (Could have been 5 second later, for all I knew), I tried hitting the same parts of the drum set and two things happened:
1) The sounds I produced do not match the demonstration
2) I got fascinated with the other, less relevant parts of the drum

This then drew the ire of the guy who looked like he was in charge, which then triggered a whole bunch of emotions related to inadequacy. So, I struggled for a while and before I could resolve it, the alarm woke me up.


The way I see it:

– The main theme of the dream is the recurring theme in my professional life.
– An organisation I sorta look up to, but don’t feel particularly strongly for approaches me and offers me to do something pretty awesome, but it would be something that I am only half qualified to do.
– Then, in a combination of a lack of interest and lack of support, I bomb at it, gaining bad feedback from the person who invited me in the first place.
– I try to fix it for a time, then fail, and feel sorry for myself.

In fact, writing this depresses me. I need to change this in order to change the results of my life. And all I get is that: a need.

Fuck this shit. I am changing this pattern. I resolve to crush whatever it is I apply myself to. I deliver.

I also need a hug.


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Hankit Mok

I live to tell stories. Sometimes, I get paid for them.

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