Today, I woke up from a dream, thinking about my dad. Before that, I was dreaming about the really good BL I was reading, but yeah, I ended up thinking about my dad as I woke up.
It wasn't that I was dreaming about him that surprised me, and made me want to post this, but... well, you'll find out.
So, I'll try to write this as a story format, but I dunno if this will turn out good. ahahaha
edit after I finished writing it: LOL it just turned out like how my usual posts are. rofl. To add on, I had a dream about Michou making a point that I should post more depressing stuff. ahahahaha
I'm pretty sure this was supposed to be... one of those family dinners. One of those family dinners where I'm being teased by my family because I'm the youngest and they can. The usual family dinners where I don't have a say in anything that goes on, like what we're having, where we're going, and what I'm going to eat. Unless it's Western food, like steak and stuff, but we avoid those places because of my dad. He complains too much when we go to those places, since he's a Western chef. Which I never really questioned him about, but have thought of. He's a Chinese Western chef... I'm not sure if I want a Chinese man cooking my steak, but my dad does make good steak, I will admit.
Tonight, we'll be eating dinner at his "new house". In my head, it looks like the townhouse we lived in. Except, my sister's there, and my brother's upstairs playing on the computer. Usually, I would be up there with him, but... here's the scene where the dream starts to leave an impression on me.
I'm sure I was playing with BB until my dad started talking. He's talking, but I don't know what he's saying. He really doesn't say anything at all, since my dream comes right after what he says. Hid words are disapproving, and make me angry, and I'm hurt. Really hurt. I can't even... be polite because my mom's not there.
So, there I am, standing right below the staircase. I hear my father's disapproving words after seeing my report card. Once again, he says something behind the table. My sister is near the sink to my left, I think she's washing the dishes. I watch as my father goes to the sliding glass door that leads outside, into the backyard. We didn't have a backyard in the townhouse we lived in, but there's a backyard. There isn't a balcony or deck though, just steps to go down. I'm not sure what happens then, but all of a sudden, I heard myself say, maybe shout, but either way, the words are bitter and feel like poison on my tongue, "I don't have to be here you know! I show you my report card, I go to your house, and I... I'm..." I couldn't get the other words out, but I knew what I was trying to say. I don't know what I was going to say
next really, but I knew what I was
trying to say. The feeling I had then was anger, and regret, maybe. I was trying to prove to my dad, that I was doing him a favour, by going to his house and letting him rub it in my face that I had never lived in such a nice house. That even though I know I'm supposed to be ashamed of my marks, I still showed him, hoping he'd understand, and forget he doesn't know anything. I'm wrong though, and all he does is make me even angrier.
He draws the curtains and says, the first line I hear him say, "I don't want to talk to you anymore."
And then tears sting my eyes. I feel them pooling as I choke out, "I hate you."
The words don't even... they come out barely as a whisper. They emanate from my being more than I could ever express with my mouth. My father's no longer looking at me, but my sister is. She witnesses my hate and my tears. She sees, for the first time, how I look hurt. How much contempt I have for my father.
How I hate him to the point that... even the words "I hate you" don't suffice.
I know deep down, I still have love for my father. I know I can never truly disown my father, like how I can never disown my mother, no matter how many hateful words we spit at each other.
Although, my hate makes more sense, and like for an old lover, the things he has done to me overruns the reasons why I should still love him. This unconditional love, still has its barriers and I know why. Why there are these barriers and why I hate him as much as I do, but that's an issue of parenting, and he can never re-write the past.
I woke up right after the words slipped out of my mouth. I've had dreams of foretelling before, but parts of me wants this to happen and knows it should happen, while other parts don't. Other parts of me say I should just stay out of trouble...
I wonder why.