Wherever Dreams Go
- Peter K F Cheung SBS
- 1 day ago
- 2 min read
FADE IN
Act 1
INT. DINING ROOM - 08:15
Modest. Cluttered. PETER at the table. Smartphone. Breakfast.
PETER (V.O.): In a human's life, they spend six years dreaming. Why the mind constructs an illusive reality every night is unknown.
He sips his green tea. Scrolls. He checks a WhatsApp chatgroup notification.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Oh, WW is attending Peter's funeral service...
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): We haven't met since Sharon died in 1992. 34 years.
Recalling.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd):Peter stayed in our NT house in the house-warming weekend back in 1983.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): I prefer not to know.
Act 2
EXT. SILVERSTRAND BAY - 14:40
Peter swims slowly toward one of the two floating platforms. He sees a small fish under water.
PETER (V.O.): From one cell. That's how it starts. A fish. A human. Perfect configurations. A physiological miracle. But consciousness? No one explains that.
Peter hauls himself up the platform. Lies on his back.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): I've yet to complete my unfinished song for the Dancing Bees.
He stares at the sky. Cloud. Nothing else.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): I think I'll turn the bridge into a post-chorus.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): That's my creative direction. How to execute it is still uncertain.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.): Yesterday, I went back to my home in NT.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Sharon's urn is in the ground floor sitting room. At the corner. Facing the door.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Our son indicated days ago that he and my daughter-in-law would like to bring our grandchild to the house.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): So yesterday I cleaned. Scrubbed the floors. Wash the curtain that smells like 30 years of dust.
Daydreaming.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): The baby will be in the house.
Daydreaming.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): And Sharon, wherever dreams go - will have a grandchild.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Why is intellectual creation so hard? But a baby, including our son - that happens almost by accident. Nature doesn't have to earn it. But I do.
Later, Peter swims butterfly toward shore. His head dips.
PETER (V.O.): I believe in late-life transformation.
He dips his head again.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Oh! Shallow water. Idiot.
Sand on his forhead. He walks slowly onto the beach.
INT. LIVING ROOM - 17:30
Peter reads a FB post with images.
PETER (V.O.): Oh, that former TV actress passed away, 65.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Never met her. Again, I prefer not to know.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): She was 65. I'm 72. Have I overlived? But Sharon died young.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Hope at 72 isn't optimism. It's a sabotage of a perfectly good perssimism.
Act 3
INT. BEDROOM - 22:00
Peter uploads an image to a draft on his laptop. It shows the Silverstrand Bay from a rocky shore with orange buoys, two floating platforms, and a hazy backdrop of dark green hills and a long rock across calm blue-grey water.
PETER (V.O.): Six years in dreams. An illusive reality every night. May be the mind needs the practice.
Thinking.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Dreams are not escape. They're rehearsal. For the tenderness of ordinary days.
Reflecting.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Wherever dreams go - that's where love already is. No map. No explanation. Just arrival.
The END
FADE OUT
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