A recent jumble of dreams

The one where Taiwan transforms into Singapore

In this dream Em and I are on a transit stopover in Taiwan. I didn’t specifically feel like it was Taipei in the dream though, as nothing looked familiar.

We had a 6 hour stopover and she said she wanted to go into town to look for sex. Strange request given how we usually take musical holidays, but we got onto the MRT to go into town. The MRT also did not look like the real Taiwanese MRT, it was darker and older somehow.

Arriving at a station we do not recognise, we get out of the MRT straight into the basement of a big shopping mall. We are on “Level 1” and it consists of many small shops. Very soon we lose sight of each other and I am on my own.

I try to find my way back to the MRT station, as perhaps this is somewhere she would also go to meet me. No matter how many times I circuit around, nothing looks familiar and no-one knows where the MRT station is.

Then I realise there is a roadblock, and some part of the building must be cordoned off. I look at the directory of the mall adjacent to an elevator, and discover that both L1 and L6 have access to the MRT.

That does not make any sense… how can an underground train have a station on level 6? I think to myself in the dream, but take the elevator up to 6 anyway.

I follow the signs to the MRT and there is a big fruit market right next to the entrance to the station.

This is definitely not the stop where we got off. I think to myself.

I line up for a ticket to the airport, and the lady does not speak Chinese to me. I’m not sure what language it is, but it doesn’t sound like anything I have heard before. I pass her a $100 note (which is red, incidentally the same as in mainland China) and she shakes her head no. I guess she doesn’t have change and pass her a $20 note (which is green, but in mainland China it is brown). She gives me a plastic token, like those ones used in casinos.

I enter the MRT station and get onto the subway. Though we are on the 6^th floor, it feels like we are underground. Once on the subway, I see an advertisement for Changi airport. And that’s when I realised that we are actually in Singapore.

I think to myself, if I just go to the Uniqlo at Changi, surely Em will find me there. Then I wake up.

The one where I choose a top

(This dream took place because I was staying at a palatial penthouse… I think it is relating to choices in life)

I am in a department store. Quite an upmarket one, with the right level of mood lighting and brightly marbled floors. Everything looks shiny and polished. In short, totally where I would not go in real life.

I have a personal shopper, a petite lady whose job is to help me dress. I am hidden behind a curtain in the changeroom, whilst she talks to a shop assistant just outside the curtain. I am wearing my own clothes and I contemplate myself in the mirror – a grey T-shirt and jeans, exactly what I would usually wear, day in and day out.

She opens the curtain gently and shows me the options on a golden coloured rack. There are three tops.

The first is a simple top in hot pink with a boat neck, which has quite a loose fit that looks like it would drape nicely. I think this represents the extroverted outgoing side of my personality.

The second is an elegant formal style top in off-white (almost a cream). Quite well fitted, it has broad straps forming some sort of complex neckline. It looks like something to go with a full puffy skirt and heels. I think this represents the graceful and beautiful side of myself. 

The third is a frilly black top which looks mysterious and sexy. The neckline is also rather complex with lace, and the arms are all lace. It looks like something from a Victoria’s secret catalogue. I think this represents the unexplored territories of my existence. 

The shop assistant asks me which one I would like. I am not sure what my choice is before I wake up. 

The toilet to another world dream

(This dream I had right after the fun Gold Coast music weekend… perhaps some sort of liberation?)

I am stuck in a long and complex immigration queue. It is long enough that I cannot really see the faces of those who are at the counters. There are dozens of counters but hundreds of people, so the line is moving very slowly.

People keep cutting from one queue to another, but no one seems to be complaining about those not following the rules.

I get rather annoyed that the progress is so slow because every time someone is processed from my queue, some others join from other queues.

Suddenly one window is open, the immigration officer in there departed. A throng of people push through the narrow passageway, and I rush to join them. Suddenly, we are all on the other side where it is very spacious and uncrowded.

I look around to see if there are any clues as to where I am. The wall tiles are quite a dark shade of orange with a glossy sheen to them. I cannot find the exit or the baggage carousel. Maybe I am just in transit? I think to myself in the dream.

I see a huge poster advertising “Buy One Get One Free Burger!” probably the largest ad I’ve ever seen for a burger. Then I have an inkling that it is actually Ramadan and so I must be in a Muslim country.

I feel the need to find a toilet, and when I get there it is absolutely huge, perhaps the size of my apartment. There is a cloth cover over the toilet seat, and when I sit down I realise that there is no way for me not to soil the cover.

After I sit down, I realise that the bathroom is surrounded by flyscreens which are half exposed and I can see people walking around outside. I am a bit horrified that people can see in as well, so I quickly finish and stand up.

Not knowing what to do with the toilet seat cover, I take it off and bundle it up, looking for a bin to throw it into. 

That is when I realise that the bathroom actually has another section around the corner. Does it lead to another world? I wake up.

In My Kitchen: September 2019

It's been a bit of a slow month cooking wise, as I was in China visiting my dad and grandma. It was just the height of summer there, and I enjoyed the warm weather break from our winter.

The quintessential Shanghainese breakfast is a quartet of foods (also nicknamed the 4 transformer gods 四大金刚)

1. Deep fried dough stick  油条  - light as air dough sticks, flash deep fried in giant vats of oil for less than a minute. Fried to order, they must be eaten hot or they turn gluggy and soft

2. Doughy cake 大饼 - these can be sweet (filled with sugar and covered in sesame) or savoury (filled with shallots). They are extremely flaky with a crunchy exterior and soft inside, the best ones have big air pockets

3. Deep fried rice cake  糍饭糕 - square blocks of sticky rice deep fried to a shattering crunch

4. Soy milk curds 豆腐花 - tofu in its elementary phase, hardly set and usually served savoury style with dried shrimp, seaweed and soy sauce / sesame oil.

3 + 4 

 2 + 1 + 4

4 + a different type of pancake with a soft large pancake stuffed full of dough stick, shallots and peanut sauce

I love having wontons for breakfast too! 

My dad's friends came over for lunch and brought some hardcore Chinese style liquor. The one on the left is rice wine 52% alcohol and the one on the right barley liquor 53% alcohol! Needless to say a few nips of these left everyone highly cheerful. 

Our garden in Shanghai has limited space but even then my dad has started a baby bok choy patch.

These baby bok choy are so skinny and delicate, more like a micro-green. Here they are cooked in a fragrant soup with fresh edamame and tomato. 

Just a few loaves of bread this month, 

A plain loaf I shared with work friends

And a beautiful black olive loaf I took to Melbourne to visit my friend. What a wonderful weekend I had learning to cook Sri Lankan food from my friend's family! 

Barney my beloved sourdough starter is also in his 3rd Chinese rendition. We have taken to use sourdough for our Chinese steamed buns as well as Western bread. These twisted buns are actually quite easy to make. Once the starter is bubbly he is mixed with plain flour and water to become a smooth dough ball, then left to rise till doubled. Turned out onto a surface the dough is rolled out to a large rectangle, brushed oil and scattered with salt & Sichuan pepper. The rectangle is rolled up and cut into rounds (this is really like a Western recipe for cheesymite scrolls). Stacking two rounds on top of each other, use a chopstick to make an indent down the middle, turning it in towards itself. What delicate beauties!

On the music front, there's very little to report as both my string & piano quartets have been taking a break with travels. I've also had a lot of problems with my hands recently and hence the break is very much well timed.  

But, I ate an artichoke for the first time! 

My piano duet buddy invited me to share in these artichokes with her and her daughter - they were simply boiled and served with a dollop of homemade mayonnaise (with lots of mustard) - I had absolutely no idea how delicious fresh artichokes were!  We ate these with a selection of easy piano duets by Leroy Anderson, a Mozart sonata for four hands and an adaptation of Schubert's 3rd symphony. How I adore piano four hand music, a much under loved genre. 

Finishing with some of my dad's cherry blossoms and the last of his pumpkins. I'm sending this to Sherry of Sherry's Pickings for the In My Kitchen series - thanks for hosting Sherry!

Dream: A forest trail to the tarmac

This is an extremely hyper vivid dream featuring my friend B.

The dream starts in a dense forest. It’s hard to tell where we are exactly, and perhaps in the dream I am very aware of the difference between types of forests in the world. We are not in Australian forest, for there are no gum trees and no characteristic eucalyptus scent. We are not in tropical Asian rainforest, there’s none of that sticky sickly sweet smell. The air is cool and not warm or humid… so we must be in Europe??

We are climbing slowly, picking our way up a gentle incline. The path is ragged, the soil packed into shape by footsteps only and at many points we almost lose our way. We ascend into a darker section of the forest and there is no one around at all. It is completely still and we cannot hear any birds or animals, not even the rustling of wind.

Suddenly we come to a concrete set of steps. Standing where we are, the trail we had been following seems to go off to the left, around a few rocks and then disappear from view into the undergrowth. The steps we see are completely straight and very well formed, ascending into the distance beyond where our eyes can stretch. We inspect the steps closely as they look so out of touch with the reality of where we are, deep in the dark forest. The concrete is poured such that each perfectly formed step is connected to the next with the vertical aspect between two steps also filled in. It is as if someone has laid down a long concrete ribbon and pressed it into the earth to form a staircase.

We stand at this crossroads, wondering if we should take the formed path (is it a shortcut of some sort?) or continue on the raggedy little trail. We don’t discuss it very much and B starts off on the trail on the left.

The scene cuts abruptly to a small airport. I intuitively know that B is in jail and I am there to get her out of jail. I pause to take in my surroundings, standing at the entrance to the airport. The large room has just one single unlabelled gate, with a cluster of seats surrounding the sliding door which goes straight out to the tarmac. On the tarmac is a group of people, perhaps 30 or so, standing within a roped off section. They are calling out and waving their arms, but we cannot hear them from inside the terminal. There are a handful of security guards around, and a few visitors.

The only sound we hear is that of fighter jets. Impossibly small planes (I guess all fighter jets are kind of small) zoom very close to the airport but none of them are near the runway or the people. The noise is quite loud and they disappear from view so quickly that I wonder if they are flying faster than the sound of speed.

The security guards escort the visitors towards the gate and one man unceremoniously presses a button to open the glass sliding doors. The group outside on the tarmac are not able to rush forward, though they move excitedly, bristling at the edges. Stepping out onto the tarmac, the noise of the jets becomes unbearable and I quickly scan the group to find B. She is wearing an oversized white T shirt and a dark blue beanie, looking impossibly small as if she somehow had become a child.

I rush towards her and she is crying.  

Let’s get out of here now, I say. Somehow the rope gives way easily and she is outside the group. We start to run towards the gate going into the terminal and just as we are almost there, she says Wait, I must say goodbye to my inside family.

The fighter jets are still zooming around as we run back to the roped off group and approach a few men. At that moment one of the guards approaches us and I freeze with fear. Cold runs through my veins and I am afraid we will both be put into the roped off group. She hugs one of the men while another man looks on with a blank expression. The guard ignores both of us and turns around to a third man.

Come on guys, you gotta get some while you can. He says and my feet feel glued to the ground while I am tugging frantically on B’s sleeve to get going.

Then I turn around and see what the “get some while you can” was referring to. He is holding an impossibly huge box of Ferrero Rochers, the box being so comically large that it obscures his entire body. There are a few chocolates missing and a few more upturned. We all stand there gaping at this impossible sight, and then I wake up.