Out-of-body at the Fullerton Waterboat House

11.08.18 04:10-04:13 She is sleeping on her back, subliminally aware of an alternating, rotating energy in her abdomen. The air suddenly moves upwards to her head before grainy black resolves into the modern harbour area near the Fullerton Hotel. It’s a clear sunny day, maybe around 27 degrees. Standing to her right, in smiling expectation, is Robert Fullerton again, today smartly dressed in a brown suit, white shirt with black and white striped necktie and polished brown leather shoes. After greeting each other, he says he is aware of April’s recent trip on the Singapore River and wants to show her another place named after him. The building in front of them, he says, is the Fullerton Waterboat House. This place is built on the site of an old water supply depot where boats could restock. The facade is a little bit similar, but the environment and construction of the modern building is better. He points to the upper floor. A few people are already sitting there and moving around. In my second life, I like to take a book up there and sit and relax in the cool breeze. He doesn’t give any book titles, so I ask April to find out next time. 

The Fullerton Waterboat House

She asks if he was married. Yes, I was married to a kind and lovely lady called Harriet. She was tall and slender with auburn hair and beautiful green eyes. We used to take walks along Fort Road and relax at what is now Cavenagh Bridge; a place popular with lovers. She asks, Did you have any children? He nods. Yes, one son named John Younge - handsome like me! and he smiles and catches her eye. He was always very well behaved, even when he was a teenager; very independent. Then he gestures to the building. Are you interested in that waterhouse? She says she is and takes her sketchpad from her bag. After I go back to my body, I want to sketch this building. He chuckles and compliments her on her previous drawing. Then she says, Sir Robert, I need to go back now and prepare things in my house. He smiles understandingly and says, Take care, April, and see you next time.

A Postcard from Chiang Rai

Following granny's suggestion in May, we take a vacation and visit the White Temple in Chiang Rai in early July and check some of the features against April's clear dream. Most is as reported, although the hands mentioned below are raised in demand rather than what we thought was offer. The female figure dreamed in the ubosot (the main structure) is absent; an artifact from another generation, granny later tells us, but one still persisting in this adjacent place. But the large golden male Buddha is there, reassuring all in silent bliss, situated on a raised, red-carpetted platform; an even bigger portrait on the wall behind.

The White Temple at Wat Rong Khun

In our hotel room that afternoon, I'm stuck for ideas for the sightseeing tomorrow. April soon becomes quiet and I channel hop for a while. Eventually, she tells me her grandmother has just recommended a place called Doi Inthanon. There, apparently, a challenge awaits us both. I search online and it turns out Doi Inthanon is a national park, high up in the mountains, a few hours from our hotel. I go downstairs to the tour desk and reserve two places. When we arrive at the summit the next day, April is confronted with her challenge - steady rain, a stiff breeze and a temperature of around 10 degrees Celsius: more like Guildford in February than Manila or Singapore in July. My challenge comes later that afternoon; a sudden, sharp pain in my scalp as we regard an immense waterfall when we make our way back down. I've been stung; anthophila, granny rather correctly informs April that evening, otherwise known as the common bumble bee. The discomfort eventually passes and we joke about the day and express our thanks for the tip.