2nd July 2011

I found myself trembling with fear. I was in the same room, surrounded by the same people and I knew that they wanted me dead.

I woke up, gave my husband a kiss. "Where are you going?" he asked, "I need to blog this one, go back to sleep."

So here I am. Blogging. And I don't know where to start.

This dream has been recurring. But scenarios change, characters change, but their motif? All the same. They all wanted me dead.

This time, I just joined a dance company. I wasn't part of the corps de ballet and neither was I a soloist. I guess, they wanted to audition me first before I was allowed to perform for them.

The name of the dance company is unknown. However, it consisted of familiar faces. I dreamt of Ramli Ibrahim, Rathimalar Govindarajoo and Revathi Tamil Selvam, I think.

There were also little girls in my group and I felt the responsibility of keeping them safe. I remember shuddering every time the board of directors passed our studio, watching us almost predator-like. Their pupils flaming red, burning an evil flame.

Cut to all of us, seated on the floor, cloaked like Death Eaters. We look like we were in the middle of prayer. I remember hearing chanting and gregorian-like chanting.

My heart was beating in my throat as I knew I did not share the same faith they did. I tried to mimic their ritualistic hand gestures but I failed. One of the so-called "elders" spotted me, drawing attention to me.

I fled, terrorised. I knew that they would find me but I tried my best to save myself from them. I ran into a bathroom, which looked strangely similar to Lake Club's bathroom. Full of women, but I was soon discovered and thrown on the floor.

They point their fingers at me, I feel my entire body light up in flames and suddenly my vision is tinted blue. I feel my life slowly leaving me as my body is dragged across a hallway.

People stare, in fear that the same may be done to them.

Within minutes, I find myself back in a dance studio. I feel strong and am able to stand. I realise that I am dressed in pink tights and a ballet leotard. I place my hands on the barre in front of me and start to swing my legs back and forth as if I was doing the Grande Battements En Cloche, swinging like a bell.

I find my right leg in an arabesque. My thigh muscles clenched and bulging through my pink tights. The happiness that wells inside me is overwhelming.

I smile, my reflection, staring back at me. My hair is pulled tight in a chignon behind my head. I look like a dancer.

I feel grateful for being able to dance once again. I understand why you need to die before you start to appreciate the present.