My handphone rang. There was an sms. It was from the doctor.

'Hi edmund, I suspect Jon (actual name changed) is taking drugs by injection near his groin. I saw a syringe and heard a soft whimper.'

I couldn't believe myself. After all, Jon was one of my men in the platoon - he had always been the ah beng, someone who goes against authority at times, gotten himself into trouble a few times.. but drugs? I didn't think it possible. He's the sort of person you know will do the stupid things, but you'll give it to him simply because he's Jon. And the platoon in fact does that. When the men were in the room trying to decide who will be doing guard duty for which dates, he is the sort who will just sit there and play his PSP without bothering about the issue, or he will just tell one of the platoon-mates that he's fine with anything so long as it's not this particular date and then he goes back to the bunk, he would be the one who was the last to come down the stairs when the whole platoon is already there (including myself), he would be the one who would continue to shoot a few more hoops even though I've asked everyone else to fall in by the road and prepare to march back to company line. Well, none of us really took issues with that simply because 'it's Jon mah'..

Perhaps you would say we all give preferential treatment to Jon. Perhaps I would agree. After all, whenever he got into trouble with authorities, I would be the one speaking up for him and trying to defend him. So much so that when he was barred from booking out for a period of time, I would usually be the one who's responsible for his time in camp. Maybe all these made me feel some kind of bond with him, some kind of emotional complexities or some elder brother kinda mentality.

So when I saw the sms from the doctor suggesting that Jon has taken drugs, I was naturally in immense disbelief, followed by pain, disappointment and bewilderment.

I ran out of the room and gave chase. I didn't know where I was running towards but I still ran. And then I saw some figures. Jon was standing on the stairs and looking down at me. He looked much more skinny and scrawny. I shouted out to him but was ignored.

'Why, why must you dabble in drugs? Couldn't you spare a thought for me?' I was thinking to myself.

Jon ran, ran out of the area and my friends, Bernard and Kevin gave chase. I was overcome with grief and lay paralysed on the ground, still wondering what it was that drove Jon to drugs.

Eventually, Bernard and Kevin came back.

'What happened to him? Why did he take drugs?'

'He said it's all because of you!' Kevin replied with that look of scorn on his face, and suddenly I felt as though all the blame and guilt was upon me.

'Me? But.. what did I do? I've always treated him well!'

To that, Bernard replied, 'he said it's because you always under-do your warm-ups, and you start to kick...'

-----

And then I woke up. I sat on my bed, thinking about it. I was half-relieved that it was only a dream, but I was afraid it might be true somewhat. Of course the dream didn't make sense - Jon was my army man; Bernard and Kevin were my sec sch friends. Anyhow, I just hope this was a random dream and nothing more. Or maybe it reflects my insecurity.

Whatever the case, I don't want to think too much about it. I'm just glad to have gotten this off my chest and having said a quick prayer for Jon, I guess that's all I have to say about this.