I had a strange dream last night.

Someone had committed suicide. Jumped off the building. I was there at the first level, standing before the elevator that looked uncannily like that at the NUS Co-op. I didn’t know the guy who jumped, but his younger brother was there, sitting on the stone steps, rocking. I didn’t know him either, but I approached him and asked him how he was doing. Which was a stupid thing to ask, I know, but I had to start somewhere.

He was disinclined to speak to me initially, but after some gentle prodding, he gave me his name. Strangely, I can still remember it. It was so distinct. Michael. Michael Tam. I don’t know any Michaels – or any whom I’m remotely close to, at least – much less a Michael Tam. But what rocked me was the way he spoke to me. He was afraid to do anything, not even say a word, because he didn’t know what else might happen if he did.

And today, I watched Mars. It turned out the guy’s twin brother killed himself by jumping off the building.

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