my subconscious: crazy ministers/love/football

Controversial Minister of Communications and Information Technology, Tifatul Sembiring, managed to pave his way up to my dreams a few nights ago. Consider that a first, for politics. There, he'd brought the country down to one of its most extreme state of disorder. I highly suspect he had not only dared enter my hours of peace but had also gone on and made himself president, in my fully unintentional dream. People wanted him to step down. And he refused, to an amplified uproar.

We (by that I mean the people of the country) were gathered in a field ever so capacious one urgent afternoon. Someplace far and green. The purpose was unclear until later on I was served a scene from my least loved genre. The gory kind. 10 people who had jokingly declare they would "give their life for the minister" were executed right there and then, one of whom was a friend I'd be better off not recalling. Knife to neck and all that. A few others, hung. There was even this slow motion scene, seconds leading to the execution PLUS a detailed close-up glimpse on the bodies--may my sharp brain get all the credits. The execution was hoped to kick some humanity to his heart and brain and finally have him cede power to the people. I don't know how that works in real life, but that was that.

and then I woke up.

***

Following that was an awfully melancholic one.

Me and Douchebag The Great dating. This other guy came into the picture. Douchebag told me to go off with him and give other people a try ,with the chance of us getting back together wide open any day. Off I went with the other guy, Douchebag slightly hurt but put great effort on remaining wise and mature, pushed me on. Few days passed, I had never missed The Douchebag more. Not that the other guy was awful or abusive, he just was not Him. No feeling worse than realizing I have just left my favorite person in the whole wide world for someone I barely knew. And with that misery, I woke up. Poignant.

I gave The Douchebag a call the minute I welcomed myself to the real world. Good to know I was once again his. GOOD TO KNOW.

***

A political figure and a heartbreak in one night, and it just does not stop.

Last night Douchebag The Great was a player for the National Football Team. We had to pedal ourselves down Jakarta's impossible road on a bicycle I have never before seen nor imagined existed my whole life. We were trying to make it to the game. He'd promised me free entry.

***

What is happening, I wonder every day before and after bed. Before and after the crazy dreams. Could someone have secretly injected certain dream-inducing chemicals into my veins and have me registered for some, I don't know, research? Am I part of an Inception-like project?

On a more realistic note, am I subconsciously stressed? Maybe. But over Tifatul Sembiring? Absurd.

Could it be Twitter and its ever-abundant, seemingly innocuous information flowing unfiltered into my Timeline?