Posts Tagged ‘Aiman’

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dreams / something for the weekend.

January 3, 2010

Alright, so every night more or less when I go to sleep, I have one of my epic, insane dreams.  It’s almost fun going to bed and wondering what I’m going to dream about; it’s unpredictable, except for the fact that usually Mike will figure in there somewhere (and my parents often play the antagonists).  My dreams are lively and exciting, and I almost feel sorry for people who always say “I dreamed I was flying / falling / being chased…” – my inner response is “Yeah, and so did everyone else. Did you go to Brazil with your supermodel boyfriend? Did you elope with a guy from HMV during your friend’s wedding? Did you eat pastries with Charlotte from SaTC before rafting along a bayou towards Oxford and the end of the world?  No you didn’t, did you.”  But sometimes, my dreams are quite disturbing, so I guess it’s all a fair trade… still, I get some good stories!  So I’m going to blog my dreams from the last two nights now (in theory this should cut down the amount that I write so the entry is not epically long!), and then I’m gonna attempt briefly to psychoanalyse what I think some of the salient points are… feel free to throw in your two pence!

Friday night

I don’t remember how it all started, but I was somehow dating this teenager (I am not sure if I was the same age I am now, but I know that I was older and that he was a bit young…) and we ended up going to his house and hanging out before meeting his family (parents, brother, dog).  Everything was cool, and there was some sort of swimming pool / water soaker element to the visit, but nothing sexual happened.  Then I was suddenly going to college (not with my new boyfriend) and lots of people from my old school were there too.  I was attending class when all of a sudden, my old boss from when I worked at the school bookstore asked me if I could carry this heavy box of books to Oxfam on Colston Avenue (for the record, in real life there is no Oxfam on Colston Avenue, and Colston Avenue was nowhere near wherever this college was meant to be).  So I recruited this fat ginger girl called Siobhan to help me carry the box.

We were about to leave college when a teacher accosted us and demanded that we attend his lesson.  Siobhan and I tried to explain that we had to carry this box to Oxfam but he wasn’t having any of it and marched us to his lesson, which appeared to take place in the college cafe / dining hall, and consisted of us watching a video on a projector screen set up in the middle.  For the life of me I can’t remember what the video was about, but ultimately I forgot about Siobhan and the box, and I ended up chatting to a couple of girls with whom I was sat watching the video.  Once the video finished, everyone was chatting and joking and being generally sixth-form-esque.  One of my massive crushes from school, Richard Hooper (who, according to Facebook, is still a hottie but needs to do some urgent manscaping), was there and looked ridiculously hot in a vest / shirtless, but much more muscled and tattooed than in real life.  I was gazing at him, when another guy from our year (on whom I didn’t have a crush, although there was a nasty rumour at one point) wandered by to talk to Rich, and he was buff but kinda fat (this is going to sound really horrid but according to Facebook, that is how he now looks in real life!).  Odder than that however was the fact that he had actual bird wings sprouting from his shoulders (and not impressive sweeping wings, but wings like that of an owl or falcon) which looked a bit weedy and a bit weird.  That’s all that I remember, I don’t remember what happened to the box, my teenage boyfriend or if I ever got close to Rich, but it was interesting if bizarrely anti-climactic!

Saturday night

Ok, so I think that I am coming in midway through the dream here, but somehow I ended up (along with various friends from university on my course, and Rihanna!) at Mike’s house.  Except it wasn’t Mike’s actual house, but some house that resembled my nan’s house slightly, except it was halfway through being built.  A couple of the upstairs rooms had massive gaps in the ceiling, and there was a staircase that ended halfway before hitting the floor.  So we were all at Mike’s house, except Mike and V had gone off somewhere because Mike had to drive her somewhere.  I remember getting really antsy and moody, and despite my friends and Rihanna’s efforts to calm me down and make me enjoy their fun, I was storming off around Mike’s house, which at times involved me jumping down off the end of the unfinished staircase, and watching some of the builders (of which there were oddly few) working on the upstairs attic.

At one point, I found a ticket to see a random music act (whom I don’t think exists in real life) and they were playing in Mike’s attic.  I watched them, but nobody came to join me or even seemed to register that there was music going on.  Eventually, the group (indie/pop girl group playing guitars) finished their set and I wandered off, dismayed that Mike and V had not yet returned, and I couldn’t stop my mind from spazzing out.  I rejoined my friends downstairs, except suddenly I realised that we were all going to exchange presents, and more people were coming and I hadn’t brought their Christmas presents with me.  My parents and grandmother were flying back from Australia and were due to have just landed, so I called them to ask if they could swing by our house and bring the other extra Christmas presents, but I got no answer on the phone so my mood didn’t lift.  Night fell, and I remember playing some kind of graphically-improved Mortal Kombat (the original game) to distract myself and funnel my annoyance into a harmless violent pursuit, but even that didn’t help.

Suddenly my friends started to bustle and move towards the door.  I remember I had been hiding upstairs in this alcove, laying on the floor staring at the ceiling when suddenly this girl (one of the builders, although she now was dressed in normal clothes) walked past and I startled her.  She told me to cheer up and go downstairs, as everyone was back.  Mike and V were downstairs but I walked past them, now more concerned with whether my parents had brought my presents.  They were outside with my nan, waiting for me, and their hands were empty.  I remember being upset, explaining I had tried to call them, explaining how embarrassed I was (and fearing that now I had no chance of competing with V for Mike’s affections, despite the fact I already felt that I had lost the battle) and how they had failed me.  In short, I was acting like a spoiled brat and alienating everyone, but I couldn’t stop myself – my mother yawned (obviously flying back from Australia had been somewhat tiring) and I remember saying that “Well now I’m going to stay here ALL NIGHT and you’re going to have to WAIT FOR ME, see how you like THAT.”  My nan and dad just stood there semi-shocked, semi-appalled, and my mother held out a drink to me – she was apparently drunk.  I took the glass and tossed the cloudy white-yellow liquid (limoncello? although normally it’s not that creamy) into the plants in my tantrum.  My friends had turned to see Mike and chat and drink, ignoring / oblivious to my mood, my anger at my family and my failure to bring all the gifts, and I tried to join in the crowd and put on a happy / brave face, but I felt like I had disappointed everyone, I realised that I had acted like a fool, and I felt that Mike had no reason ever to pay me any attention again.  Mike and V smiled at me, but I couldn’t return their smile as I felt inferior, unwanted by them, and I think then I must have woken up.

Analysis

I seem to be looking to latch onto anyone to date / distract me from my infatuation with Mike, but it never seems to do any good.  The relationships disappear, or the real hot guys are never interested in (or even notice) me.  When I get around Mike, he always seems to drop me for someone else and I always feel guilty or take the blame.  I can’t control my moods and I end up alienating everyone – even though Mike and I are supposed to be the couple, I’m never quite good enough to hold onto him and he always goes away or finds someone else.

I often dream about people from school, or being back in a school environment – I guess that’s because it’s such a formative experience, but going back there would scare me and also return me to my feelings of inferiority and confusion that I experienced during my adolescence.  My moodiness and loneliness in my dreams I guess reflects on my fear of losing my maturity, or my insecurities being exposed and everyone turning against me.

Context-wise, my nan is currently in Australia (although my parents are not) and I’ve been missing her terribly, feeling that I have nowhere to turn when living with my parents gets too much.  On NYE, I was flirting with someone younger than me, although he wasn’t a teenager it reminded me of last year when I did date a teenager and it didn’t really work – somehow, NYE felt similarly inappropriate and that I was lowering myself. The fact that “Rich” was super buff and tattooed also relates to NYE, as there were some hotties at the club who looked exactly that way (they were in fact a bit overdone, but still not bad).  I also found out that Mike and V went to the cinema last night (with their spouses) which probably explains their presence in the dream – although me and Mike already met up once this holiday and I’m staying at his on Monday night (and seeing him a lot next week for uni), I can’t shake off my feelings of inferiority.  Which I really, really need to get over!  But in dreams, I guess that we see ourselves without being able to control how we act.  Throw in your two pence!

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imbecilic.

August 16, 2009

Another thing from the wedding yesterday that I wanted to touch upon was the fact that depending on whom you are surrounded by, your every action can be made into a big mistake or faux pas.  For example, we were lining up for wedding photos, and I somehow ended up at the front (which was not where I wanted to be, nor where I thought was appropriate for me to be).  Other people weren’t really getting the hint that we were assembling for this mass photo, so for a while I was stood at the front by myself, because I am one of the tallest and therefore stood on the front / lowest step.  After a while, Aiman (the bride) stood next to me, and I said “I shouldn’t be standing next to you!!!” Everyone was like “OMG WHY?” My response: “Because that is Phil’s place, not mine! He’s her husband!!!” It makes sense, non?  So I tried to step backwards, despite people being stood behind me, and some of my friends were like “Alan, what are you doing?” a) My bag was quite robust, filled with my necessary stuff, and it was that, more than me, which was hitting their feet.  And b) It should have been pretty obvious what I was doing: I was trying to get out of the way of being right at the front of the picture, and allowing the focus to be on whom it really should have been on, considering it was not my wedding day.  So why was I made out to feel foolish and melodramatic?  Was my train of thought really so illogical, so difficult to understand?  I don’t think so, and even typing out this paragraph, it makes sense to me.

My university friends, by and large, make fun of: my proclivity for designer things and large black sunglasses (two of my friends laughed when I put them on.  I pointed at the emerging sun, and then also at another guest across the car park who was also wearing sunglasses.  Nobody was laughing at him.); my vanity; my ability to spend money.  They genuinely think that I am funny (and they also laugh at the joke-ish things I do on purpose), but I don’t think they realise that they sometimes hurt my feelings.  This is the way that I am, and I’m not constantly trying to amuse anybody.  It doesn’t seem to strike any of my other (read: Bristol) friends as hilarious that I put Prada sunglasses on when the sun is shining, nor that I get nervous anticipating an important life event for one of my friends.  It’s just me, and I don’t know why, coming from Oxford university, some people are so insecure that they want to try and put me down to feed into their own intelligence.  I know that I’m not bookish, but I also know that I’m not stupid.  So why does making me feel bad (or trying to) make them feel good?

Today I met up with two of my friends whom I haven’t seen for a good while: Mel and Erum.  They’re both making moves: Mel is in the middle of her Scandinavian Studies degree and currently working in the Cabinet Office on a summer internship; Erum is a law graduate about to start her LPC.  We were in Starbucks pondering school, relationships, jobs, politics, the economy & swine flu, among other things.  We also discussed current fashion, including those ridiculous visor sunglasses as worn (but not invented) by Kanye West.  In case you don’t know what I am referring to, I illustrate:

Okay, they are impractical, which is a major con.  But then so are Beyoncé’s “Diva” sunglasses which employ gold tassels hanging from a minimal frame, and I like those (plus, the fact that they hang vertically and move with the body means that you do have more of a chance of seeing where you’re going).  What I don’t like about these is that a) they are really quite ugly, and b) they are being sold everywhere as the “new biggest trend”.  Not just in white, but in neon colours.  People are wearing these to clubs (I have seen pictorial evidence, as well as witnessing it myself) where normal sunglasses would be ridiculed, despite the fact that normal sunglasses generally look 100% better.  And just because Kanye West wears them?  I have of course been inspired by various celebrity fashion statements, and seeking to copy that is perfectly understandable and acceptable; that’s what inspiration is.  But this is something else; it’s taking something quite clearly idiotic and pretending that it is cool and intelligent.  It feels like a conspiracy that everyone is in on, and I take a stand against that because if I don’t like something, I am not going to wear it and that’s that.  But don’t ridicule me for wearing fashionable designer glasses that look great, when there are people wearing these venetian blind things who can’t even see where they’re going!  I mean, wtf?

Who decides what is “foolish” and what “isn’t”?  I do what I like, and I use my common sense, and I think that everybody is entitled to do that.  But what irritates me is when I make decisions that to me seem logical, and others want to pick on that for whatever reason, but they are quite happy to ignore / accept other things that are clearly beyond sensible.  Are we, as the general public, really that insecure that we’re willing to knock down one person just to make ourselves feel better, but then able to pass an imbecilic trend just because it was started / revived by a celebrity who has more money / status than the majority of us, the general public?  If Madonna jumped off the Empire State Building, would we all climb up there to follow?  (The paparazzi would certainly be crowded around at the bottom, snapping the impact point to make numerous tributes in special-edition magazines… just look at Michael Jackson).  I guess that it all depends on how caught up we are in appearances, and I am very conscious of the way that I look.  But the final decision is made by me, and if others want to try and knock me down for doing something that I choose, or for not following a herd of sheep, then let them; I have my insecurities, but one of them is not following the crowd when I would prefer to follow my instincts.

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holy matrimony.

August 16, 2009

Yesterday I had the privilege to attend the wedding of my friend Aiman to her boyfriend Phil.  They’d been dating for nearly 3 years, engaged for 8 months prior to yesterday’s wedding, and it seemed unreal to me that a girl I met 5 years ago who was so childlike and naive had grown into a young woman who is embarking on married life.  I know that a couple of my friends felt it was too young (Aiman is 24) to get married, and others really dislike her partner Phil for various reasons.  Myself, I feel that different things work for different people.  Phil is Aiman’s first boyfriend, and sometimes high-school sweethearts make it work, so I guess university sweethearts isn’t so far-fetched either.  And although I’ve heard various things about Phil’s temperament during the stormier parts of their relationship and their on-off periods, he’s always been perfectly nice to me and vaguely witty in conversation.  So I am happy for them both, and I sincerely hope that it all works out for them.

Sitting in the church with my friends (whom it was so good to see!), waiting for Aiman to enter and watching everyone else buzzing about, I actually felt nervous!  I mean, why? I didn’t think that Aiman was going to back out, and she wasn’t even late (uncharacteristic for her).  As I’ve explained, I was really happy for them to get married, and I guess there was only a tiny tiny part of me that thought that it may not have been the right decision, at least at this time – I suppose that’s normal, to be scared that something’s not going to work out, and to hope against hope that it does.  99% of me was genuinely happy sans reservations for them.  I guess that the nerves were from the fact that this was the first friend of mine who was taking the plunge into a new life with somebody, that she had grown up and changed so much, that it took a lot of bravery and courage to commit to such a life-changing decision.

Why is it life-changing? I started thinking about this logically – whether you’re in a church, a registry office, on a beach or in a football field – the venue may have different levels of solemnity (also depending on who marries you and whether they think they are a stand-up comic – the pastor was atrocious!  “the 6 most important words in any marriage: ‘I admit I made a mistake.'” What a thing to say at a WEDDING.  Come on now.) but the act is essentially the same: you’re declaring and committing your love for another.  If you both agree to get married, and you both are in love (which, ideally speaking, you should be!), then there’s nothing to be afraid of.  I think its the combination of the venue, having family and friends around you, and the gravitas that always comes with such an event; that gravitas is what, I suppose, made me feel nervous for a few minutes as the wedding was starting.

Would I like to get married?  I dreamed about getting engaged in sixth form (obviously that never happened, which was probably a good thing, in retrospect), thinking that it would have been cool and romantic.  The two people in my sixth form who did get both engaged and pregnant before finishing were a topic of debate, and not usually in a positive way – too young, too soon, too much etc. The dreams we have for ourselves, as soon as they turn into a reality for someone else, seem to suddenly acquire pitfalls, pros and cons, and more serious consideration than we originally had for them when they were just fantasies in our heads.  Something we imagine to be so positive suddenly becomes negative – are we hateful people who can’t be happy for another?  I don’t think so – like I said, I was genuinely so happy for my friends yesterday on their wedding day.  But for me to get married would be something entirely incomprehensible to the single, 23-yo me right now.  If it were to happen, I am sure I could make it work, but I don’t really feel in the right space or time for marriage right now.  I always imagined being single, but even if I ended up happily with somebody, I don’t think I would want to push for marriage immediately.  I want to enjoy single life, and I want to enjoy dating, and I want it to feel right in its own time.  And I am sure that yesterday, for Aiman and Phil, it felt right and that is the most important thing of all – in love, your hearts being in the right place goes a long way towards making everything work.

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dream.

July 11, 2009

Okay, I’ve literally just woken up and I have to write this all down before I forget it. Last night I had this epic dream which has stayed with me as I’ve woken up, so I wanted to get it all recorded for my own interest as well as so that you can analyse it and see how much of a freak I am, haha.

Basically, my friend from uni Aiman was getting married (this is happening in real life next month, I need to get the train tickets to Wolverhampton and back any day now) so my dad had driven me to this random town where the wedding was happening.  It transpired that I was there for the wedding rehearsal, but before I went to the rehearsal, me and my father ended up in a massive dvd shop.  After browsing quite a few of the titles, I remember going to the bargain section and picking up some sort of Street Fighter dvd.  The cover was a brown brick background, with a picture of Ryu looking fierce in the foreground.  Anyways, I took the dvd to the counter to find out how much it was, and the shop assistant told me £19.99.  I was quite miffed because that obviously wasn’t a bargain, so I went and put the dvd back.  For some reason (I don’t know what provoked me, but then this is a dream so logic basically flies out of the window) I started comparing the barcodes of the Street Fighter dvds and realised that the one I had picked up was different to others with the same cover.  So I took another one of the dvds over to the cashier and enquired about that price.  Of course, that one turned out to be £7.99, so much more of a bargain.

I don’t remember if I ended up purchasing the dvd, and I don’t remember where my dad went, but I ended up talking to the shop assistant for ages.  He was the same age as me, his name was Robbie, he had slightly unkempt blonde hair, he looked kinda indie-ish (not really my type under normal circumstances) and was a really funny, nice guy.  So we were chatting, and we ended up leaving the shop and walking for a while, getting to know one another, and the situation started to become more and more romantic.  But obviously I had this wedding rehearsal to go to!  So I don’t know what I told Robbie, but I rushed to the rehearsal where I was apparently late-but-not-too-late, and my group of university friends including Nana, Andrew, Daria (wearing very interesting white knee-length pvc killer heel boots!!!!  Which is something Daria would never ever wear in a million years) were in a circle waiting for me.  We chatted for a while, Aiman came over (at first she was in normal dress, but I presume she got changed for wedding things later on.. I never saw…) and said hello.  Then I snuck away from my friends for a while and went down this stone staircase at the end of the church garden, and found Robbie standing waiting for me (not sure if he was smoking a cigarette or just waiting for me).

I don’t know if we had pre-arranged to meet, but we ended up talking for a while, and it was clear that we were falling in love (hey! I move quickly if I know what I want, and what I want includes discounted dvds) because we ended up kissing (this was to be a chaste dream) for ages, and talking some more.  I think we may have mentioned eloping, who knows.  After talking for enough time, I remembered that I was not there to find the love of my life, but because one of my friends was having her wedding rehearsal and I had better go back.  So we parted, he was going to wait for me there at the stone staircase, and I ran back to the church where my friends was the tail end of a procession which had nearly filed inside.  I was just in time, and tagged onto the end of the queue where Nana raised her eyebrow at me and asked me where I had been.

And that is all I remember about this dream because my mother woke me up to ask my plans for the day before she went to work!!!  Such a shame, I’ve not remembered a dream so vividly in a little while now (I usually remember 1-2 a week on average, but lately they’ve been lacking in creativity – no holidays with Ciara, no being abandoned at the bus stop, no cannibal children, no exercise dvds with Beyoncé). But I drifted back off to sleep for another hour and I had another dream where I was at school in this cloakroom with one of my close friends of the time, Liam.  I had acquired, for some reason, this massive French dictionary (like a ridiculous size, bigger than the ones they had in Oxford university library) and was wondering where to put it, since I obviously couldn’t cart it around with me.  I think between me and Liam, we decided to leave it directly on the table in front of me (clearly, our intelligence had yet to blossom in this dream) and then we went to some sort of concert in this giant auditorium.  There was a world theme, and I remember being sat for a long while watching mediocre acts and not paying any attention.

Then suddenly, the music from Shakira’s “Ojos Así” began to play, and a Hindi woman stood up and began to sing and dance a traditional-looking dance (I wouldn’t really know though, so I don’t claim to).  There was murmuring, and Liam told me that the favourite to win the competition was this song, with a guy called “Menacing Louie” who drank a ridiculous amount during his performances.  And lo and behold, this hobo-looking man stood up on the right-hand side of the stage, a complete contrast to the Hindi woman dancing delicately and in a manner more befitting of the song.  And my dream zoomed in close up on Menacing Louie’s face as he raised a bottle of cola (obviously laced with goodness knows what alcohol, I could practically smell it coming off him despite being sat in the audience!) and drowned his mouth, tongue and throat with it, staining them a brownish colour (nice.).  I was quite unimpressed.

Then next, a murmuring began to rise amidst the crowd scandalised by Menacing Louie’s performance.  The sounds of Lady GaGa’s “Poker Face” began to reverberate through the auditorium, and my friends started to chatter excitedly among themselves.  I remember feeling “alone in a crowd” and this is the miraculous thing.  Although this was apparently a separate dream to the wedding rehearsal dream, I remembered Robbie, and I missed him and wished he were there with me.  So obviously, we were still together in this dream, and it was ‘love’.  Or dream love, anyway.  Anyways, Lady GaGa appeared on the stage and did a medley of “Poker Face” and “Again Again”, it was fine, and I think that must have been it because I woke up and went straight to the laptop and typed this now-epic entry out.  Oops, I did it again!  I suppose the last couple have been more succinct though 😉

The most remarkable thing to me, more remarkable than being best friends with Ciara and going on holiday together, more remarkable than Beyoncé inviting me up on stage, was that I seemed to find true love (overnight, literally! Haha!) in this dream, and the memory and the feeling of it stayed with me.  I’m almost sad to be awake because I remember exactly what Robbie was like, and though he wasn’t my usual type (indie isn’t my typical) I remember how well we got on and how much feelings I had for him, and feeling that that was reciprocated.  After the last brief relationship I had, which ended in disaster, I began to think that maybe love just wasn’t for me, but it’s reassuring that I have the capacity to give love and receive it in return, even if it’s just a dream – I was still “me”. I guess it’s because I’ve been talking to someone online and it’s been a much more impressive conversation than usual, we were up until 2am talking about silly things and deep things and everything in between; perhaps Robbie was a manifestation of the best case scenario of what this person might be like.  Of course, I try to remain realistic about these things, and usually the reality is a disappointment, but I live in hope.  After all, we can but dream!