Another dream account, for which I apologise to the reading hordes.
I dreamt that I was in the Karachi house, upstairs in the little mini-flat portion that my family lived in (my grandparents lived downstairs in the main house). It was as it had been when I was growing up there, with an opening to the galley kitchen, a little table on the landing and two bedrooms, one for my parents and one for us, and a shared bathroom. Tiny place for four to live in, and no privacy no wonder my mother insisted on a move.
There were two butterflies on the dining table and then I saw someone had taken a match and burnt a hole through the wing of one. The hole was smouldering and gradually growing and though it seemed to feel no pain, I could see its distress. I poured a glass of water over it to put it out and following my lead the other butterfly, now human-sized, reached over to open a tap and pour more water. Then the GF appeared, with his glass of cold water, which he contributed and that, finally, seemed to put out the fire.
I woke and it was about 6, so still dark here in KL. The building was vibrating with bass beats and I couldn’t tell if it was in our building or somewhere outside. It seemed somehow magical that people were partying at this time on a weekday, but maybe it was a rave, I thought. Then singing began, a sad, musical song in Arabic, sung by a male voice. I drifted back to sleep, knowing I would be up soon and not sure if that was part of the dream or something that really happened.