Last night I had such a strange dream. There was a shadow, in the form of a waving hand and the side of a male face, reflected on the walls of the attic of my grandparents’ house. It functioned like a semi-God of human’s memories, secrets, and concealed mistakes. It constantly looked for confessions from people, by merging itself into one human figure, the ‘representative,’ and approaching the targets with a recorder. The target will automatically narrate one of their deepest secrets/unfolded mistakes in front of their loved ones, then the recorder will save everything into the shadow semi-God’s archive.
For example: “July 9th, 1963, I met a woman called Van. She and I shared an inexplicable connection since the beginning…”—a part of my grandfather’s confession in my dream astonished my grandma–“What?! You’ve never told me!” He said: “Of course I told you! You just don’t remember.” The time he met the other woman, my grandparents were about to have their second children, my mom and her twin.
The possessed ‘representative’ in my dream was my cousin. When he turned to me with a recorder, I couldn’t think of anything to confess, since my life has always been unfolded. I hold no secrets to myself. After a short while fossicking through my memory shelves, I ended up confessing the heated discussion I had with my mom, which upset her very much. I did apologize to her though, while stating my opinion clearly. Sometimes I just forgot that my parents came from a different generation, and were living in a culture different from mine now. As I continue to learn and grow, I am exposed to more schools of thought and matters of concern in the world, with which my parents might not be familiar. Discussion doesn’t mean winning over someone with your opinion, because there’s no right or wrong, but understanding and facilitating an opportunity for the exposure and collision of thought and belief. Besides, they are my parents; my wellbeing is always their biggest concern, just as likewise to me.