I Killed Someone and an Indonesian Man Got Arrested for It

I could not remember much. I was standing behind a car in a garage. The trunk was open and in it was a large sack drenched in blood. I looked at it with fear and resentment. I knew there was a body inside. A dead human body. As to how it ended up dead I had no idea. I just knew that there was a dead body inside and I was quite certain that it was I who did the dirty crime. I shut the car trunk, locked it, and went upstairs.

I chatted with two men but I could not recall what it was about. I was disturbed. I could not get the thought of rotting in prison out of my head. I would be arrested. I would live my life behind bars while the people who used to be part of my life raise their own families and get filthy rich. More than the regret of having taken a human life I was more concerned about life passing me by. See, when something tragic happens in your life, whether doing some crime or finding out that you have terminal cancer, the world would not stop for you. You get left behind. I went out of the garage and disappeared into the night.

The next day, I was sitting on the curb across the street. In front of the open garage was a crowd of people. Two police officers emerged carrying the bloody sack. They tossed it in the compartment of the police car and went to the drugstore adjacent to the garage. By then, I was with the throng of curious passers-by, wondering what would happen next. A teenager in his twenties came out of the drugstore with a little plastic bag. I did not know why but I knew he was Indonesian. I really do not know what made me conclude anything about his nationality. You see, this is what sucks when you are dreaming. You know things because you know them, period.

So, he was Indonesian not because he was but because I knew he was. The scene was set in Malaysia, not because it was in Malaysia, but because I knew it was in Malaysia.

The next thing I knew we were in a big lounge which resembled a cross between a dance hall and a court room. The usisero crowd was still with us and they were chanting: Rot in prison! Go to hell! and Murderer! Except that it was not directed to me but to the Indonesian. They were like those chorus folks masquerading as Greek townspeople in Mamma Mia! If they went on to do a song and dance number I would not have been surprised. But it would surely look awkward.

I went out of the building and sat on the steps thinking hard if I would surrender myself and watch life pass me by as I rot in prison, or just live a carefree life like anyone else would have wanted and probably take the life of another human being. It was a heavy feeling, an urgent obligation to do a life-changing decision. And then I heard a siren wailing. Wait, it was more of a phone ringing. Oh, it was my phone's alarm. It was telling me to get up, take a shower, and go to work. It turns out I am going to prison after all, a capitalist one, that is.

This is the second time I have had this weirdo dream. I could not clearly recall the first one but the details are always the same, except for the Indonesian person. There is always a car, a garage, a bloody sack in the compartment, and a person wrongfully accused and arrested for murder after coming out of a nearby drugstore with a little plastic bag. The person in the first dream was not Indonesian but he is always male, in his early twenties, and bearded. It always starts with me staring at the bloody sack and it always ends with a feeling of having to make an urgent and life-altering decision.

So what are my dreams telling me? I am not in the mood to speculate right now. So will I be a future murderer? Am I and the dead person in the sack one and the same? Is the content of the sack really a person or just road kill? Who is the Indonesian man and what does his little drugstore plastic bag contain? Leche! I wish I knew, hahaha. Freako dreams.

I would like to thank my cousin for sharing her own freako dreams about dying in a car accident. It was her Multiply post that prompted me to post my own freako dream, and she made damay my case in her research to find out what these weird dreams are trying to tell us. Thanks Joie! I will just quote her:

"To dream that you kill someone, indicates that heavy stress may cause you to lose your temper and self-control. Consider the person you have killed and ask yourself if you feel any rage towards him or her in your waking life. You may very well be expressing some anger or hatred toward this person. Alternatively, you may be trying to kill or put an end to an aspect of yourself that is represented by the person killed. Identify the characteristics of this person and ask yourself how you do not want to be like him or her.

This dream may also represent a part of you or your life that you wish would leave you alone and stop creating a nuisance. Killing may represent the killing off of old parts of yourself and old habits."

It actually makes sense, though it does not offer an explanation regarding who the framed up guy is. Or perhaps he is just a red herring to throw me off track. Anyway, I think I am also the dead body in the sack but I am in denial. Perhaps that is why I fail to see the body inside. Anyway, this is long enough now. I hope your freako dreams would also visit you.