Morning reflections.

I had a dream last night again. It was pretty scary, and I played a part inside.

Being an avid fan of Resident Evil, this certainly didn't surprise me.

Within a block of flats, there I was, running up a corridor with several friends. I held an old pump-action rifle in my left hand, and what seemed to be a custom-made mortar handcannon with a weird movable potato-chip shaped ring around it in my right. Me and what seemed like a group of friends ran up to this particular unit on a particular floor, killing zombies along the way. Surprisingly, what really terrified me in reality was not just the close encounters I had with the living dead, but the entire trepidation I felt throughout the entire dream.

I was afraid like any normal person, though I still had my sense and cognitive abilities to know I was in danger and should fire. Eventually though, zombies dead aside, I was down to one shot in each weapon.

All my friends decided there and then to escape the building and probably elsewhere where it might be safe. All that is, except one girl. I saw her on the floor of the (weirdly) barren and seemingly burnt unit, sobbing and refusing to leave.

I decided to stay too, for some reason.

And then, some other moments later, I woke up. And that was when I felt it.

All of a sudden, I began to think of the people who were close to me. I felt, for a few minutes, the same paralysing fear and terror I'd experienced while fighting off the living dead. I hugged things nearby close to me, be it my pillow or my blanket.

Thinking about it now on the train to work, perhaps the homily from yesterday was manifesting itself in my mind.

Yesterday, the priest of my RC church gave a very, VERY short homily compared to the sermons I've heard. The basic point was prayer, and he brought up giving thanks to God for the day for - 3 to 5 minutes each day.

I don't believe that it was a matter of coincidence. I believe God was telling me, at my very waking point, that I should, somehow, treasure the fact that I still lived to today.

Ok that's weird - Celine Dion's "A New Day Has Come" just played on my iPod as I'm typing this. Anyway.

Maybe, just maybe, the living dead represented - in essence - Death.

This leads me to wonder, perhaps, that there are so many of us so dead in our souls; that, in the most cliche tone possible, we forget to - not to admire the flowers at the side, but be grateful for the fact that we are even able to put our eyes to gaze upon them.

Ploughing through the monotonies of daily work life, I really wonder how many out there truly ponder on their lives, be it having meaningful, quiet dialogues with God or the other celestial entities that others believe in, or - in the few moments before slumber, truly reflect on the day today in the most psychospiritual way possible -

and then, in the days ahead, be thankful for actually living out each tomorrow, each warm sunshine, each glowing sunset.

- composed on my iPod on 26/07/10, 6:58am