đông tây đông ta

That was a bizarre dream.

I found for myself an identical body to the one I was having. Exactly the same size. Exactly the same well-worn clothes I’d be wearing any given day. Nothing about the body suggested any personal wishful thinking for a different shape or a different age.

Still I changed into it. I cut my head out in order to fit it into the new-found body. I wanted a fresh body. I changed like I would for clothes.

I forget how I eventually looked after the change, but interestingly, I did take the time to take care of the body I left behind. The body that was dressed in a yoga outfit I often rocked in my college days. I carefully cleaned my hands. Like they belonged to someone I loved dearly. Like they’re worth taking cared of even though they’re done away.

Then came the time when I had to dispose the old body. Everyone around me knew about the body but I had to dispose it because the police were coming after me for it. They were investigating into my headless body, making me panic about the legality of keeping it. So I made a deal with a group of men whose job was to bury people and tender tombs. They let me know that they’re burying someone else, and my body could use the space.

The dream went on to different things and people, and I woke up wondering that all meant. It has occurred to me that I need to take care of my body. It also has occurred to me that perhaps I was holding onto an old identity for too long, that maybe I need to bury it asap. Or perhaps there was something else in the esoteric world that I don’t really get it yet. Sometimes dreams are so vivid I wonder if I’ve been visiting parallel worlds.

Then come the question, who actually has the say about my body and identity? I wonder why I got so scared in the dream I needed to pull a whole scheme to dispose what was intimately mine in the first place. Some food for thoughts from the dream world, I guess.