I woke up with my face feeling really cold.
I had dreamed that I met Satan. He looks like actor Zami Ismail, has a house in the middle of Pantai Dalam and wore old, traditional Malay clothing.
He was receiving visitors. I was one of them, flanked, of all things, by BN and PR politicians.
Apparently, Satan was offering his 'bomoh' services to politicians, and charge them RM400 for each 'task'. As it is in dreams, I have sudden knowledge of this fact, without any reason.
No one could meet Satan's gaze, so I tried to stare into his eyes. It was bloodshot, but not necessarily with red pupils. This seemed to offend Satan and he motioned for two of his helpers - really ugly women - to remove me from his house.
I tried to punch the women, but my swing and my hands felt sluggish, and I was suddenly aware I was in an oil painting that has yet to dry.
This freaked me out more than anything and I tried to run. My feet felt 'ephemereal' and I began to lose them in the painting as the paint dried, as my real self watched the whole thing frozen as a painting on an easel.
This is not the first time I dreamed of meeting Satan.
My father dreamed of meeting the Prophet Muhammad. I dreamed of meeting Satan.
I guess it had much to do with all the HP Lovecraft tales I have been reading. Ctulhu ftahgn!
