Day 270 (Sunday 31st December 2006): Papa has been taking a short Christmas break away from the blog in order to recharge his batteries. The recent earthquake around Taiwan that disrupted the Internet in Asia just meant that the break was extended, a little.

I have since recovered from my bad flu. It was the worst that I have suffered so far. Papa says that there is still a left-over cough, but nothing serious. Papa could tell that I had recovered when, two days ago, I began to smile more again. He had missed that the most.

I have begun to make some progress with my physical development. I have started to do the 'commando' crawl. I still have balancing issues, but at least I can now claw my way to my toys. Failing which I just roll to them. My sitting ability has also improved. I can sit up more steadily now, although I have not yet learned to sit from the prone position by myself. In good time, in good time, I pray.

Papa and I would like to wish one and all a peaceful, contented and joyous new year. We hope that mummy has found the same where ever she may be. Papa misses mummy very much on this their anniversary. May she rest in everlasting peace in the knowledge of his immense love for her, more than words or actions could ever have said. Love you mummy.

The beauty of the heart

is the lasting beauty:

its lips give to drink

of the water of life.
Truly it is the water,

that which pours,

and the one who drinks.

All three become one when

your talisman is shattered.

That oneness you can't know

by reasoning.

-Rumi

Day 261 (Friday 22nd December 2006): I have developed a fever yet again. There are no other symptoms at the moment, but on Thursday evening, papa recorded a temperature of of 39degC. The usual fever medicines were squirted down my throat, which has managed to contain it between the 37.5-38.7degC range so far. In fact the first night, when it did not subside sufficiently, a "suppository" was inserted into my "depository". My first encounter of the 'close' kind. As of today, Friday, the fever has still not subsided. Papa is a little worried naturally. This is the worst bout of fever that I have encountered to-date. Papa says that I must rise to the occasion yet again.


Fortunately, I had some fun before the fever consumed me. I was invited to attend my very first Christmas Gingerbread House party. I was only allowed to observe the other kids making the houses. It looked fun not to mention yummy! It was something about my fingers in my drooling mouth that seemed to make the difference as to how close they let me get to the action.
I can't wait for next years party- hopefully I will be able to hold my own.

Christmas is a sad time for papa. It reminds him of all the times mummy spent rehearsing and performing for the Church choirs and for the Singapore Philharmonic Chorus. It was a passion that made her very happy. Papa could tell, and though it meant less time together, he was always happy that she was in her element and enjoying herself. Christmas also signals the approach of their wedding anniversary. They were married on January the 1st. Papa says he will need the help of much fermented fluids this Christmas to carry him far away from these poignant memories. He dreamt of mummy the other night. It was a short dream. Mummy was in a happy mood, and she held papa's hand so lovingly, as she pulled him along to something that she wanted him to see. There was a feeling of love and assurance. Alas, the dream ended there. Papa thinks that it was his subconscious desire to be reunited with mummy that sparked the dream. I think that it was mummy trying to sooth papa's lonely soul. Mummy dearest, stay close to us and never let us go. We miss you very much.

I am a sculptor, a molder of form.

In every moment I shape an idol.

But then, in front of you, I melt them down

I can rouse a hundred forms

and fill them with spirit,

but when I look into your face,

I want to throw them in the fire.

My souls spills into yours and is blended.

Because my soul has absorbed your fragrance,

I cherish it.

Every drop of blood I spill

informs the earth,

I merge with my Beloved

when I participate in love.

In this house of mud and water,

my heart has fallen to ruins.

Enter this house, my Love, or let me leave.

-Rumi

"I'm forever blowing bubbles..." *choke choke" (Part deux)

"I'm forever blowing bubbles...."

(Warning! Viewer discretion is advised. This clip may contain scenes of graphic salivation and may be unsuitable for viewers with weak stomachs or who are suffering from obsessive compulsive neatness disorders.)

A moment of happiness,

you and I sitting on the verandah,

apparently two, but one in soul, you and I.

We feel the flowing water of life here,

you and I, with the garden's beauty

and the birds singing.

The stars will be watching us,

and we will show them

what it is to be a thin crescent moon.

You and I unselfed, will be together,

indifferent to idle speculation, you and I.

The parrots of heaven will be cracking sugar

as we laugh together, you and I.

In one form upon this earth,

and in another form in a timeless sweet land

-Rumi

Day 251 (Tuesday, 12th December 2006): The last weekend was a busy one for me. My recent bout of flu has created havoc with my appointments. I was eager to get out of the house. On Saturday, we were invited over to Aunty Sheena's house for her annual Christmas party. There were plenty of people about. The night ended with everyone joining voices in renditions of familiar Christmas carols. Some of the music seemed strangely familiar to me.

On Sunday, my good friend Lucas turned five. I wonder how it must feel to be so old. I've been told that you might actually get to stop wearing diapers! We had a great time in an indoor playground. The theme was 'Superheroes'. This meant that there were plenty of bouncing bodies in tight colorful clothing, prancing around that afternoon. It was fun to watch.

I have restarted my exercise routines as best as I can manage. It involves spending more time on the mat, as well as more sitting exercises using a new mobile foam 'corner' which my kind physiotherapist Laura has lent me. I must try harder to strengthen my back muscles. I hope that time will be kind to me.

I can think of younger days when living for my life
Was everything a man could want to do.
I could never see tomorrow, but I was never told about the sorrow.

And how can you mend a broken heart?
How can you stop the rain from falling down?
How can you stop the sun from shining?
What makes the world go round?
How can you mend this broken man?
How can a loser ever win?
Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again.

I can still feel the breeze that rustles through the trees
And misty memories of days gone by
We could never see tomorrow, no one said a word about the sorrow.

-How do you mend a broken heart, Bee Gees.

Tribute taken from 'Frances Ng Tribute Choir and Musicians, Journeys of Faith Concert, St Ignatius Church, Concert Program" (2nd December 2006):

" Frances, also known to us as Fudge, Cici, Auntie, in her quiet and unassuming way has touched so many of us- friends as well as family.

In tribute to Frances, some friends of hers have gathered to sing and play a few of her favorite hymns. She gave so much of herself and of her music. In the main concert, they will be singing arrangements of hymns for St Ignatius Loyola specially arranged by Frances.
Before the concert, as their tribute to Frances, they will begin with the psalm, Centre of my Life. To Frances, God has always been the centre of her life and it was not by chance that this is her favorite psalm.

Of the many gifted musicians in the parish of St Ignatius, Frances was one of them. Another is Tom Rozario. On hearing of her untimely demise, Tom composed The Musician's Prayer for Frances's funeral and faxed it from Barcelona where he currently resides.

The choir will end this tribute with the Advent Alleluia. This hymn is written in a classical style which if Frances were here, she'd want to teach the choir. She lives on in us and in her music. Frances, this is for you."

Day 246 (Thursday, 7th December 2006): Today, I finally end my course of antibiotic medicines. I am so relieved it's all over. I put up a whale of a struggle at each feeding time. I hate my meds! It took two, sometimes three people to administer my meds- one to hold me down, one to force it down my throat and another to cheer me on. I tried blowing it back up again, I even tried twisting my face into armpits, hiding my mouth and making lots of ugly noises to scare them away. Alas, I am too puny and weak. I have since developed an acute sense of smell for its sickly sweet odor and can usually detect it coming two rooms away. Pity I have not learned how to run yet. I hope I never fall that ill again.

Papa says that I have started to cut my very first two teeth! They are creeping out from the bottom jaw. I feel strange. It makes my mouth itchy. I can't imagine more of them sprouting up. Papa says that I will soon have a pearly smile rather than a toothless grin. I have also started to explore my feet lately. I have this irresistible urge to suck my toes! It amuses papa plenty but I think it disgusts quite a few others judging by the looks on their faces. There is a warm fuzzy feeling to the smooth sensation of my twinky toes nuzzled between my lips and tongue. It brings me great comfort somehow.

Mummy dearest, there isn't a moment that passes when I am wishing you were here sharing these growing-up moments with papa and me. I often wonder how you would have reacted to the things I do. Would it have been any different to the way in which papa responds I wonder. Papa says that no matter how much he tries, he can't 'mother' me, and that is something that I will have to learn to do without. I will be like a violin playing without one string, a rainbow without one color. Love you mummy.

Yee hah!

It's Mumbo-Bumbo Time!

Evan doesn't mind his new Jumbo chair. He's not crazy about it, but will co-operate most of the time for short periods. He has found a way to squirm and wriggle his way out of it already, so a watchful eye is needed at hand when he gets bored. It is useful in keeping him sitting upright, so I guess it does help to strengthen his back muscles. Another tool to keep him amused.

Day 243 (Monday 4th December 2006): My fever broke over the weekend. I am still taking the medicine for phlegm and the antibiotics though, as the chesty cough is still in the background and the antibiotic course has to be completed. I am so glad that the worst is over for now. Thank you all for your kind prayers.

Papa brought me to attend the Musical concert at the Church of St Ignatius on Saturday evening. There was a beautiful tribute to mummy that night. They sang some of her favorite music. Thank you to all her wonderful friends. May mummy continue to sing in your hearts.

Papa received a poignant letter from Harrow England today. It was from a kind old lady that had taught mummy how to play the piano when she was younger. Her name is Jean Anderson-Hunt. Papa has never met her before. Mummy and Jean must have been very dear to each other. In fact, mummy had written a letter to her just before she passed away, but it had not been posted. Papa had found the letter in her belongings earlier, but there was no address on the envelope to send it to. Now there is. Jean still does not know that mummy has passed on. Papa is struggling to find the right words in his letter to her. He knows it will be shocking for her. It won't be easy for papa. Mummy, may you comfort Jean upon her knowledge of your death. We love you very much.

Last night you left me and slept your own deep sleep. Tonight you turn and turn. I say,

"You and I will be together till the universe dissolves." -Rumi

A Letter for Evan.......

Dearest Evan,
Yesterday morning, I woke up from a dream about you and your mother. I was in a huge cathedral and there was going to be an important wedding. Since everyone was in white, it seemed like a heavenly wedding, and your mother was the bride.
The scene then shifted and your mum was seated on a piano stool, her back to a black grand piano. She was trying to catch the eye of Melly who was carrying you, but Melly was not looking in her direction. So I went up to Melly and picked you up and gave you to your mum.
Your mum was truly very happy playing with you, bouncing you on her knees and she was smiling and laughing - that wonderful smile and laughter that only your mum has. She truly looked very happy.
For me, the dream came at a significant moment because last night, there was a tribute to your mum at St Ignatius Church. We all miss her very much, and I miss her in the very depth of my being.
You see, your mum and I had a funny kind of friendship. I was too young (crazy I mean) to be a mother to her, and too old to be really a friend. So maybe we were like sisters. Your mum would share a few secrets with me and I thank her for trusting me. Without words, we both knew we loved each other very much and could count on each other whenever needed.
So it was with great sadness that your mum left us on my birthday, but at least her spirit didn't leave me without coming to me as I prayed for her at Mt Alvernia hospital. And now, you and I have birthdays on the same day.
Dear Evan, you had a wonderful mother who loved you intensely as she carried you in her tummy. And I am sure that she continues to love you and care for you from heaven. And we all, who loved your mother, will love you as our own.

With hugs and kisses, Auntie Di
3 December 2006

That all my life I have listened to the calls
of mourning doves, have heard them hidden far back
under the eaves, or perched among sycamore branches—
their five still notes sometimes lost in the wind—
and not known how to answer: this I confess,
lying here now, on a summer morning, in a dark room
no less lit by the sound of their soft calling

than by your breathing. And though you might dream
that I lie stretched beside you, I am alone again,
and a child, hearing these same dim voices drifting
high outside my window, explaining to myself how
these are the cries of the newly dead, in the dawn light,
rising toward heaven. Only that, and a child's need
to make up stories on falling asleep, or waking.

And though you might speak, out of that dream, or form
some forbidden word on your lips, my response
would be no more than the music two of them can make—
matching their notes in time, setting up harmonies
that are clear, and pure, and accidental even
to their own reckoning, since all of their singing
is circular, and comes back to the same stillness.

It is back to that place they are calling us now,
and it is out of not knowing that I brush away
strands of hair from your face, and begin to kiss
your eyes, your lips—that I might take sleep
from your mouth into mine, that we might dream invention,
and you hear my confession, and I your answering,
like a song traded back and forth in the morning light.


-Jared Carter, Mourning Doves, from After the Rain.

Day 240 (Friday 1st December 2006): Day four of my flu and I am still stuck at home with a fever. I have read all the magazines there are to be read and I am getting bored. It's no fun being sick in a house full of doctors. To add insult to injury, they have started me on my fifth medication today- antibiotics (Augmentin), in an attempt to clear up the chest infection. I must admit that it has had a beneficial effect. By evening, I have been breathing a little easier, and the nose and chesty fluids are starting to thicken. My fever is down too. I hope that this means my body is finally pushing back the tide of bugs back to where they came from. I can only wish. Meanwhile, I still have the yucky medicines to drink and the painful nose to wipe. I wish they would sell moisturized tissues more readily in Singapore. How about medicines that taste like chocolate ice cream, now that would be cool. Until my next fever update, it's back to bed for me.

Journeys of Faith, celebrating 500 years- A musical tribute to the Jesuit founders presented by the Choirs of St Ignatius. It will include familiar hymns and original compositions to celebrate the Jubilee Year, which we close on 3 December 2006, the Feast of Francis Xavier. It will include a tribute to Frances.

Date: Saturday 2 December 2006
Time: 8pm
Venue: Church of St Igantius
All are welcome
Donations may be made at the concert - proceeds to the Jesuits-in-formation.

Day 238 (Wednesday 29th November 2006): My fever has yet to break. I have been having a lung infection, which is causing me to have a thick runny nose and a watery chest. My fever hovers just below the 38 deg C mark. I am currently being forced to drink a cocktail of four medicines- for the fever, phlegm, runny nose and cough. I hate them. I put up a struggle and cry a lot, I have even tried giving papa that pathetic look in the hope that he will save me whenever he looks on. But alas, I am too weak for now. Wait 'till I get bigger and am able to run. Fortunately, I have learned how to blow, and when I can muster the breath, I send the medicine bubbling out between my pursed lips to thwart the enemy. I think that they have been trying to trick me lately- 'cos I have a sneaky suspicion they have resorted to contaminating my milk supplies. I will have to watch them very carefully. I have been trying to convince them that I don't need the medicines anymore by acting as normally as I can- I have tried to eat normally and show them that I have a healthy appetite and even play like my normal self. I think that if I can keep this up for another day or two, I might just convince them that I am not sick. The only silver lining in the cloud, is that I get to skip my physiotherapy session tomorrow! Let's hope my fever breaks and my chest clears up soon though. I am getting bored of staying at home. Pray for me mummy.

When the rose is gone and the garden faded
you will no longer hear the nightingale's song.
The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil.
The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing.
If love withholds its strengthening care,
the lover is left like a bird without care,
the lover is left like a bird without wings.
How will I be awake and aware
if the light of the Beloved is absent?
Love wills that this Word be brought forth.
-Rumi

Day 236 (Monday 27th November 2006): I have succumbed to another bug over the last two days. This time around it is giving me a cough and a fever. My fever had spiked to a high of 38degC this afternoon. I am back on some anti-fever medication again. I soldier on like I have been for these last seven months, riding upon all the prayers from Heaven and shielded by the love that surrounds me.
Mummy's friend Aunty Sharon has just returned to Singapore from the USA with my Bumbo chair and her husband in tow. Thank you very much Aunty Sharon for the kind present! Mummy and Aunty Sharon go back a long way. They used to sing in the same choir together when they were still in school. She now lives and works in the USA. As for me, it looks like my mumbo-Bumbo days have just started.

Because I cannot sleep
I make music at night.
I am troubled by the one
whose face has the color of spring flowers.
I have neither sleep nor patience,
neither a god reputation nor disgrace.
A thousand robes of wisdom are gone.
All my good manners have moved a thousand miles away.
The heart and the mind are left angry with each other.
The stars and the moon are envious of each other.
Because of this alienation the physical universe
is getting tighter and tighter.
The moon says, "How long will I remain
suspended without a sun?"
Without Love's jewel inside of me,
let the bazaar of my existence be destroyed stone by stone.
O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names,
You who know how to pour the wine
into the chalice of the body,
You who give culture to a thousand cultures,
You who are faceless but have a thousand faces,
O Love, You who shape the faces
of Turks, Europeans, and Zanzibaris,
give me a glass from Your bottle,
or a handful of bheng from Your Branch.
Remove the cork once more.
Then we'll see a thousand chiefs prostrate themselves,
and a circle of ecstatic troubadours will play.
Then the addict will be breed of craving.
and will be resurrected,
and stand in awe till Judgement Day.

-Rumi

Day 234 (Saturday 25th November 2006): Papa took time off from work for three days this week, so that he could spend more time with me. He took me swimming on Tuesday. And what a great afternoon for swimming it turned out to be. Papa says mummy was looking out for us. The weather was just nice- the lingering warmth of the afternoon sun colliding with the cloudiness of an impending rainstorm. Like a good wine papa said- a tantalizing start with a good finish. The start of the swim is often when I need the most reassurance. I am only scared of the coldness initially, but after that I am like a fish in open water. Or rather a fish out of water. As I haven't yet learned to swim, most of my time is spent half submerged and splashing my energetic arms around.

On Wednesday, we had an appointment with a new physiotherapist, Laura. She is the second physiotherapist that I will be seeing besides the one at Mount Alvernia Hospital. Papa hopes that she will help strengthen the team of people already helping me out. She is very professional and thoughtful in her work. She said that there was much of my development that she assessed as being 'age-appropriate'. So that was very encouraging. My biggest problem at the moment seems to be my muscular control and co-ordination. That was still lagging behind somewhat and would be the focus of her attention for the time being. Laura felt that I needed to become physically stronger than most other kids in order to help me overcome my muscular control issues. Papa feels that it will develop in good time. She introduced some new exercise routines for me to practice with at home. She says that I needed more floor time on the mat as well as be exposed to positions and postures that would stimulate my sense of spatial awareness and allow me to build up my muscle strength. Laura thinks that I am a very spirited and inquisitive young man. She called me a gung-ho 'kay-poh' (which means 'busy-body' translated from the Hokkien dialect).

Papa has been feeling very tired lately. I sense that he may be feeling a little overwhelmed by all the work he has to do for me. I guess he is very concerned that I be given the best possible chance of recovering from the disadvantaged start to life. Doing the worrying and thinking for two parents is starting to wear him down a little. Every time my development is delayed, he worries if it is due to damage I suffered from the birth. Or is it just me taking my sweet time? If it is damage, how bad is it? Will I be able to reverse the effects of the damage? Is he doing enough to help me recover? He also worries that I should be given a good environment in which to do my exercises at home. Which is not easy given that I am only in my temporary home. He worries that there is insufficient supervision of my daily exercise routines- is it done in the proper manner, is it done enough? He also worries that I am not exposed to sufficient parent-bonding time whenever he is working. He is concerned that I am not getting enough quality attention at home. And the list goes on incessantly, like the ticker tape buzzing on a busy day at the stock exchange he says.

He knows that he has to take one step at a time, and he hopes that things will eventually fall into place. He does also realise that he needs to reserve some time for himself, but he says that worrying for me is a full-time addiction which he can't seem to stop. Perhaps that's why he has so many more silvery hairs on his head today. It's moments like these that he really misses mummy. It's like playing the piano with one hand. The missing is so hard to do. Harder than caring for me he says. Not even sleep can steal the pain. Perhaps that's why he hasn't been sleeping very much lately.

Clavichord

Touch me once more, until these separate strands
begin to stir. My inarticulate keys
quicken beneath your soft, attentive hands,

my strings, responsive to your least commands,
give back strange overtones and harmonies.
Touch me once more. Until these separate strands

comply, and nothing hurried countermands
the way in which such gradual urgencies
quicken beneath your soft, attentive hands,

there can be no release—nor sarabandes
of meaning—in these plangent melodies.
Touch me once more, until these separate strands

commingle, and a newfound world expands
between us in this little room. Let seas
quicken beneath your soft, attentive hands,

let continents appear: who understands
this music loosens vast geographies.
Touch me once more, until these separate strands
quicken beneath your soft, attentive hands.

-Jared Carter, from Les Barricades Mystérieuses

Day 228 (Sunday 19th November 2006): My fever has broken as of early this morning. Everyone at home is relieved. We had lunch with my grandparents Dot and Ben this afternoon. They had some of their long-time friends over for lunch. My cousins Hanna, Lea and Noah were there to keep me company too.
Papa says that I am starting to show signs that I may be able to crawl soon. I can lift my backside up so that my legs can push forwards. The only problem is my sense of balance. I keep tipping over when I try to move forwards. I think rolling is a lot easier for the moment. I have also been practicing my sitting posture. I can at least support myself in the 'tripod' position with my arms as I lean forwards. It's a start for now. I am confident that I will be able to do it eventually. That should be a great relief for papa. Meanwhile, back to the gym for me.

Day 226 (Friday 17th November 2006): I came down with a high fever on Friday afternoon. The ear thingy said 39 degrees C. according to papa. I have been drinking some medicine for the fever. It has since come down to a milder 37.5 degrees C. I am not coughing or sneezing, so we are just waiting to see what kind of bug it will be.

Day 225 (Thursday 16th November 2006) : I had my physiotherapy session today at the Mount Alvernia Hospital. It was a good session for me- I was co-operative and for the first time, managed not to cry! Papa was pleased with my behavior today. He hopes that I will start to find these 'gym' sessions fun at the same time that it helps me strengthen my muscles. Papa spent the entire day with me today. It was one of those father-son bonding sessions that he so enjoys. I am happy when I see him and always try to greet him with my most charming of smiles. It always melts his heart and takes his worries away for those precious few moments.

I hope that he can spend more time with me. Papa says that work isn't that important to him anymore. Although he does enjoy his work very much- he finds great satisfaction from it because he says he makes people smile everyday. But things can never be the same again. Priorities have undergone a seismic change. He will still work to keep his sanity, give himself a sense of fulfillment and to keep paying for my diapers and milk. I think he feels that he needs to make up for mummy's loss. So he has to be twice the parent, giving three times the time and smothering me with five times the love. I hope that I can repay him by being strong and making him proud, a hundred times over. Although I do know that his love for me is unconditional. Like with mummy, he believes the most fulfilling love is one that is freely returned.

Dearest mummy, many people miss you very much. Heaven's email inbox must be full of protests and prayers for you. Most of them from papa. I fear he will never get over your sudden loss. He had so much love for you. So much more to give. It is like a dam across the heart, the body cannot go on. I pray that you will visit him each night and let him know that you can still feel his love as intensely as when you were together in the flesh. Wait for him mummy.

Dreamscapes....Both Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung identify dreams as an interaction between the unconscious and the conscious. Dreams are seen as being projections of parts of oneself. Often these are parts that have been ignored, rejected or even suppressed. Or are they? The mysterious and often bizarre nature of dreams has led many to interpret dreams as divine gifts or messages, as predictions of the future, or as messages from the past.

-------------------------------
"I had a dream at long last of Ci, during the early morning hours of 1 June. I was at an outdoor party (looked like a barbeque..but it was in a cold country), sitting on a bench with my kids. Cici suddenly appeared and sat between Andrea and myself, somewhat invisible to the rest, but looking every bit herself, although she had long hair (like what she had 7-8 years ago), and was wearing a navy blue t-shirt. She said to me, "Come, I want to talk to you.."..I took her hand and walked away with her. It came as no surprise that I spoke more than she did.. asking her why she left us, telling her how much I missed her, etc.. all she kept saying was,"I am fine.. really I am ok.. I am really ok".. I then proceeded to ask her what heaven was like, and she said it was "nice".. again saying, "I'm ok", smiling. I wanted to know who she had met there.. .and was racking my brains to think of people whom she may have met.. all that came to mind was "Por por".... Anyway... my dream ended abruptly as the phone rang at 5.30am!!!! I so wished for the dream to continue...

However, I must say that having had a dream of Cici telling me that she's fine, and having seen her smiling face has led me to feel more reassured and at peace. I woke up feeling content that she was happy and at peace with herself and that she had given me the chance to dream about her, my best friend.. That's about all I can remember! And I still feel reassured that she's really fine. "
-AudreyR (June 2006)

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"Wanted to share with you this dream I had last night. I was in the music room at St Igs with some of our old 10:45am mass choir mates. I think Audrey and Angela were there. And Frances was there too. She was expressing concern in her usual caring way about my knee. ( I actually have been nursing a strained knee joint this past week so I guess that's reality colliding with the subconscious mind). She was urging me to see a doctor about it and recommended someone.
The odd thing was that in the dream, we all knew that she had gone to heaven and were somewhat surprised to see her. Not shocked or scared. Just a little surprised. And I actually said "Fudge, what are you doing here? Aren't you... " To which she replied, "Aiya, I'm always around when I'm needed lah."
I woke up with a deep sense of loss yet at the same time, I felt oddly comforted."
-AngelinaF (June 2006)

-------------------------------
"She was dressed in a beautiful white high-necked lace dress and looking radiant. We hugged each other and held each other. All the things that had not been said, the deep sadness I felt at not seeing her before her sudden departure, this terrible sense of loss.

But in that dream, there were no words. There was no need for words. I felt her love and that she was at peace."
- AngelaS (July 2006)

-------------------------------
As many would agree, Frances was an excellent and most patient voice teacher and although I'd only had lessons with her for 5 months, I was rather inspired by her and other than a common love for singing, I found out she had also done corporate banking for some time so she was able to relate to what I had to tell her about my career path (I'm currently in corporate banking but realise that finance isn't really my choice career).

The first 2 months after Frances had left us, I was very much saddened and wondered often as to how she would be in heaven for I know that it is there that we have eternal happiness. Well, what I wanted to let you know was that I had a dream about three months back. It was a nice and comforting dream to say the least. I'm pretty certain it was a confirmation to what I'd been thinking all this while. In my dream, I was sitting on a sofa atop a tall building in the midst of clouds and whilst i was seated, Frances appeared and came to sit opposite me. Her face was radiant and she had a large beam on her face. I remember clearly her smile and I was so excited to see her and asked her how she was. She replied in a way to tell us not to worry and to say that although she was no longer on earth, she was very much alive with our Father in Heaven. That was the crux of the dream and which has stayed with me til today (I've written it down in a journal too). I hope this doesn't sound too strange to you to hear this from me but I thought that I'd like to share it with you. We all miss her but somehow we do know that she is together with choirs of angels watching us from above and will always be present in our hearts.
-ElizabethN (November 2006)

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Psychologist Joe Griffin, one of the founders of human givens psychology, has put forward an explanation for why humans dream: The expectation fulfillment theory of dreaming. He reviewed all the available scientific evidence and conducted a 12 year program of research that showed that all dreams are expressed in the form of sensory metaphors. Interviewed by New Scientist he explained how his findings "show that ordinarily dream sleep does a great housekeeping job for us. Each night it brings down our autonomic arousal level. Dreams are metaphorical translations of those waking introspections – emotionally arousing feelings and thoughts – that we don’t act upon while we are awake. Once aroused, our brain has to complete that cycle of arousal and, if we don’t complete it in the external world, we do so in our dream sleep. The patterns of arousal are metaphorically acted out and thereby deactivated.

"Letting off steam" usually dissipates anger, but if animals were to act out their emotions instantly every time they were emotionally aroused, that would be disastrous. So animals needed to evolve the ability to inhibit arousals when necessary and deactivate them later when they could do no harm. Griffin hypothesized that that is why animals evolved to dream. During REM sleep, unfulfilled emotional expectations left over from the day are run out in the form of metaphors, thus deactivating them and freeing up the brain to deal with the new emotionally arousing events of the following day. Without dreams fulfilling animals' expectations by acting them out metaphorically, and thereby quelling the autonomic nervous system, animals would need a vastly bigger brain.
-New Scientist.

Berceuse

Step down into that darkness now, that dream
of drifting unremembrance and release,
where words and music form an endless stream

of syllables that swirl away and gleam
upon the flow, then vanish without cease.
Step down into that darkness: now that dream—

that fragment wave which in one moment seems
to break—returns, and on the next increase,
where words and music form an endless stream,

floods all resistance, all that would deem
mere waking marvelous, or knowledge peace.
Step down: into that darkness now, that dream,

descend, not to renounce but to redeem
the surface world. Within the water's lease,
where words and music form an endless stream,

letters appear in lines that have no theme
or purpose, yet their passing brings surcease.
Step down into that darkness now, that dream
where words and music form an endless stream.

-Jared Carter, from Les Barricades Mystérieuses.

Day 222 (Monday 13th November 2006): I got to sit in a high-chair for the first time today! Although I did need the support of some pillows. Papa said that was cheating, but that at least I got to feel what it was like to sit at the table eating with everyone else. My buddy Joshua was so happy for me. He took care of me and made sure I didn't hurt myself. Papa says this should be good training for my eating habits as well as strengthening for my back muscles. I managed to sit in the chair for a good half an hour and got up only after the rest had finished their dinner. I could tell papa was happy with my performance.

Papa says that he will be starting me on physiotherapy twice a week starting soon, with two different physiotherapists. He will consider a suggestion sent in by 'ummi-to-D' to look into something called Advanced Biomechanical Rehabilitation (ABR) (click link). Papa says he may consider this should physiotherapy fail or if things take a turn for the worse for me in the coming months. My grandpa Larry recently gave me an exercise ball for me to do my exercises like the way I do it at the physiotherapist. Thanks grandpa. I am supposed to sit and lie on it for a series of exercises to strengthen my back and trunk muscles. It is hard work. But I have promised papa to work hard on my sitting-up abilities. I sometimes wonder if mummy had been here, whether all this hard work would have been easier to do. I can tell papa would like to be there for me in the day, but I do understand he has to work as well. He has not been sleeping well lately. Mummy, help me grow strong in your spirit so that I may continue to surprise all my loved ones with good news. Goodnight mummy.