Subtle bits of drama have been added in, as dreams are often like a single dimensional film. However, rest assured that nothing has been done to alter the general course of the dream. Btw, I will be penning my afterthoughts about that in italics throughout the article.
---The Case---
I was a cop. In fact, I was one of those CID inspectors in-charged of a team. We had chasing long down this case where a criminal, H, had escaped from a jail in Penang and had escaped capture by running down south to KL. We had suspected that he had been hiding in the jungles of the nearby Gunung Tahan, and was just waiting for him to make him move. (It actually amazes me that I did actually dream of that.)
What move? H was a mental person, suffering from a personal vendetta against this particular restaurant dai-chow owner in KL. (lol, local flavour.) His mum, had been working for the owner for a long time as a dishwasher, and had been raped and physically abused terribly. Growing up seeing all these abuses really made him despair and go crazy, but his mother had no choice, for having little education and widowed, had to provide for him and his younger brother.
H was smart, in fact, too clever for his own good. To be able to escape from prison himself would be lucky. To be able to escape from prison with the help of his brother would be extremely resourceful. He was cunning and fast with great ability to plan ahead and outwit the malaysian police everytime. (d'uh?)
In fact, my team had been outmaneuvered by him several times. A few times, he was clever to actually managed to set a few of my team members up, stealing their guns, injuring and suspending them. I had been a victim once or twice, but luck shielded me, and i managed to wiggle out unscathered.
My team and I were actually revisiting the restaurant in question. The setting is actually similiar to a Melacca shophouse that kind, old, chinese, colonial, discoloured and slim with opened front and back doors. (melacca in kl?) We had just finished interviewing the owner again and had obtained permission to look around the place.
When we got to the back of the restaurant, it was by sheer coincidence that we spotted two silhouettes pouring white poison powder from a pink paper into one of the water pipes running lengthwise down the building. (i still don't understand why they don't poison the teh, but hey, it's my dream right?) But we knew it was them, for H always carries his bright orange nylon travelling bag. Immediately, me and another partner shouted at them, and they were surprised, took off scampering in opposite directions.
H ran fast. By the time we got the back of the building, H had already disappeared round the corner. The brother however, ran at a running lorry and jumped onto its back, standing on the "bumper" and held on the sides of the wooden railings. (why not into the passenger seat I don't know. faster?) We drew our guns out and fired.
bam. bam. bam.
We took aim, but couldn't hit him at all. The lorry was getting faster and faster and it was getting away.
bam. bam. bam.
Out of my mind, I knew that I had a single bullet left. This was the only chance I'll get, for getting closer to putting H behind bars and readdressing the humiliation and grievances that my team had suffered for the past months.
BAM.
A sputter of blood shot out through his knee. At once, the brother's leg dramatically gave way and he immediately lost balance and fell. Rolling on the ground, I shouted at my partner to go for the brother. (lol, this part is damn dramatic, I think I watch too much HK cop dramas.)
A small victory for me and a moral boost. I spuned around immediately and started running after H. This was it. The story wasn't over yet, H had finally slipped this time. It was the closest I'd get to him, and I wasn't prepared to let it go yet. H hadn't possibly run far.
After reaching the corner of the building, I saw him running at a distance away. He was gaining ground and getting away! I chased, but I couldn't catch up at all! He pulled away and I panting, momentarily tasted loss and despair. (so much for the moral boost)
But when I was about to give up, hope shone! My suspended teammates, came running from the direction H was running to! With guns pointing at him, he saw no way out. Bittered, H gave up running and was obediently subdued. (like gandalf in LOTR 2. this part is damn stupid.)
I was suprised that they even had guns. Smiling sheepishly, that showed me what they were holding. I realised that they were using toy guns. (sweat. this is even stupier.)
---That night---
That night, we celebrated over dinner at one of our favourite outdoor dai-chow restaurants. I brought the confisticated bright orange bag, which held all my colleague's guns and IDs that H had stolen. The mood was of a relaxed relief and proud glory and achievement.
We talked about the whole case again, how we started on it, tracing it back, interviewing everyone he knew over his whole life, how much close we were to catching him at times. We cheered at the mistake he made, his surrender and how much we were glad that the colleagues could finally be finally released from suspension. (well, in the dream, we talked about something, but I can't rmbr - made some up la k?)
Over the chatter, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a car which attracted my attention. I couldn't see the face of the driver, but what drew me in was that he had the same orange bag on the passenger seat. And the grin on his face.
But, hey, H's been caught. I shook my head. Bags like those are all over Indonesia. And the driver could have been smiling at anything. Mocking at myself, I went back to the constant chatter of the table.
The dishes were finally served, at our delight. One of the girls in my team were saying that the hor fan looked like it had too much pepper in it and smelled weird. We laughed.
And there was a flash of light, then a loud explosion.
Then I woke up.
---Epilogue---
(This section isnt part of the dream and added after I had woke up and thought what could have happened next.)
Standing at the graves of her colleagues, her team, she weeped. Tear flowed down her pale cheeks onto her bandaged arm. She had gone to the washroom when the explosion took place, the very explosion which had taken the lives of her 12 colleagues, along with countless innocent diners.
For what?
The report on the capture of H came back. That was not H at all. No poisonous powder, no brother, and worse still, no H. The white powder was cornflour, the two persons who got arrested was no H and his brother, but just scapegoats wearing wigs and plastic surgery. There was no charge; for what..? putting cornflour into a sewage pipe!?
This was a setup. Masterminded by H to get rid of the persistant team, the best team in Malaysia who bittered snapped at his heels for almost a year. It was with the assumption of capture, the drop in guard that H could find a chance in. It was an oversight, a careless mistake that cost dearly. The momentary minute of happiness, and glory; H must have been mocking in the darkness then. Watching them celebrate over their eventual death.
Gosh, and so it hurt. What great mockery. She recalled the faces of the gleeful faces that night. Never to come back again. Never to be seen again.
Painful. She weeped.
