The dream is always the same. I am standing on a corner of a street that I don’t recognize. There are no people, and no cars, but there is a strange sound from far off, a kind of muffled roar, the kind of stereotypical sound you hear in a dream sequence right before you hear a louder sound. The louder sound is the roar, only louder because it is not muffled. This is a crowd, crowd sounds in the street, in the empty street, and I understand that I am having a dream, but it doesn’t seem to matter too much to anyone else. The street is suddenly populated, and I can see that I’m in a parade.
The dream doesn’t return, and there isn’t any kind of hint about a Chinese restaurant at the beginning of an evening in Singapore. It would be a perfect place, however, to be right before Chingay, the big New Year’s festival in town. This is one of those big street parties that everyone always talks about. There are lots of floats, because that was really at the origins of the festival at the turn of the 20th century, with paper dragons, and lots of fireworks. The fireworks have been an on-again off-again part of the week, with concerns about the crowds.
Today, this celebration of Chinese New Year has all the makings of a waking dream. There are spectacular things to see, and some of them are as colorful as anything that animation can do. These are the big moments when people come together to make a metaphorical celebration of life, and the cycles of time, paying honor to the way the big wheel turns. We prepare for another year, shedding the skin of the last year and wondering about the future. Our metaphorical celebrations would have to be similar to dreams, because they come from the same place.