I had a dream this morning. I can't remember all of the details. Dreams are strange in nature, adding bits and pieces of our lives into a montage that we call a dream.
I was in a man's home. It wasn't an expensive home. It was relatively old with lots of wooden furniture, the type that you can move around, not the built-in wardrobe type. It was open with windows all around; windows with wooden frames. I seem to remember ceiling fans.
At one side of the flat, I was able to through the window see strange things that looked like trees except that they were huge hanging mobiles planted in the ground; very artistic and very typical of the man's nature. A few seconds later, the mobiles disappeared and there were instead tables spread out in a 'U' shape, tables big enough to seat 12 people each. It was a restaurant, a Chinese restaurant, with fanned paper napkins, pink actually. There was a 鬼佬 sitting at one of the tables and a waiter serving him. I suddenly remembered the restaurant that I'd seen downstairs. It was the same restaurant although if the dream was reality, it wouldn't be possible; for the restaurant to be both downstairs and at the back of this man's home somewhere up in a high-rise building.
I turned around and we were sitting down at a table having dinner. The man's wife, 曾華倩, perky and sprite as ever, was there sitting to the left of me. The man's personal assistant and one other person were there too. One talked about computer problems (職業病？) and then the man asked his assistant about a problem he was having with his music composition program. Although the man had retired from professional singing, he was obviously still deeply involved, writing his own music, possibly for others to sing.
I was petrified. This man was one of the greatest. We had known each other although only for a minute far far in the past but he was still a great man. He wasn't my idol but he was still wonderous. I had nothing to say but they didn't seem to notice. While talking about the music composition program, I had the urge to offer my computer help but repressed the urge because more than appreciation for my computer skills, I wanted the man to appreciate me as a friend, if not now then later.
Suddenly, as is common in dreams, I was in the kitchen in front of the dish washing basin. I was washing a cup, at least I thought it was a cup. It turned out to contain dish washing powder used in commercial dish washing machines like the ones I attended while studying at the University of New South Wales in Sydney. I looked over to the right and there was a huge commercial dish washing machine, probably the same size as the one I used at the Baxter College dormitory at the university. Of course, this was the man's home. There shouldn't have been a commercial dish washing machine here but this was a dream. Anything goes.
曾華倩 came in and told me that I didn't have to help with the dishes. Somebody grabbed a couple of bottles of beverage from the fridge and then we were in the adjoining room, like a dining area but not the one where we had dinner. The man was there and I was beginning to calm down and become comfortable around him. He looked great, the way I remember him from our time together in Sydney many years ago. We picked up our brown bottles of beer from the table although my bottle mysteriously became a clear bottle of 7-up or something similar.
We talked a little.
And I woke up.
After playing with our dogs in the garden, I went back to our own kitchen and began making a cup of coffee with our Breville coffee maker. Suddenly, one of the man's songs was in my head and it's still there as I write this prose:
愁如鎖 眉頭聚 別離淚始終要下垂
Some men are truly great.