Outwardly, Tukau seemed like an ordinary man. He was thoughtful, kind, and helpful — just as normal as anyone else in our village. But he had one remarkable difference: he dreamt more vividly than others.
In the late 1950s, when I was of preschool age, I often heard him sharing his dreams during visits to our farmhouse, several miles from our village.
Though Tukau was a quiet man who needed a little prodding to open up, he felt more comfortable talking to my parents, who enjoyed listening to him and asking questions.
During one of these visits, my mother jokingly asked if he had any dreams about us. Without missing a beat, he replied that when her children grew up, they would scatter far and wide. That filled me with excitement.
Every day, my father would tune into his old Toshiba radio, broadcasting tales of the big wide world beyond our little community. It felt good to know I had a future filled with adventures.
As time passed, Tukau earned the nickname Namba Piyamuh in the Bidayuh Bukar-Sadung sub-dialect spoken in Serian District (now Serian Division). It means “Dreaming Man”. While not everyone called him that, his friends and relatives used it as a term of endearment.
Many of Tukau’s dreams were unusual; they often predicted events or people’s fates. Some brought joy, while others carried sorrow.
He was seen as a conduit for omens, and his presence created a certain aura — people either liked him or feared him, with few remaining indifferent.
I recall feeling quite wary of Tukau, largely because I found him difficult to understand. Yet, something was intriguing about him that compelled me to stay close whenever he was around.
This curiosity allowed me to observe a peculiar habit of his. When he spoke about a dream, his gaze would drift into the distance, as if he were staring into another realm while recounting the details. It reminded me of a student reading aloud from a chalkboard, focusing intently on the words a teacher had written.
When Tukau spoke, especially about ominous dreams, a hush would fall over his listeners. No one wanted to miss a word that might hold significance for them.
However, like any community, ours had its sceptics. One particularly nasty fellow constantly dismissed Tukau’s dreams, coming dangerously close to calling him a fraud.
Tukau, however, remained unfazed. His conscience was clear; he didn’t invent his dreams — they came to him while he slept.
He shared them with anyone willing to listen, never overly concerned with their meanings or how others reacted.
Curious folks sometimes asked if he understood the significance of his dreams. Sometimes he did, but often he couldn’t explain how.
If pressed, he would offer interpretations or predictions, but there were times when he, too, felt confused by his visions.
Though gentle, Tukau could stand up for himself when provoked. One memorable incident happened at a gathering of men at a village shop.
A loudmouth, jealous of Tukau’s attention, accused him of fabricating his stories to seem wise. Despite some men urging him to back down, the bully persisted.
Finally, Tukau confronted him, asking if he had wronged him or his family. The man was taken aback, probably expecting Tukau to cower like a mouse sensing a cat.
When the man didn’t respond, Tukau declared, “You’ve assaulted me verbally, even though I’ve done you no harm. My dreams might seem nonsense to you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t dream about you. Here’s my dream: A month from now, your wife will fall ill.”
The man scoffed, “See? This is what I mean! He’s lying — just trying to look important.” But his face had gone pale, and his lips quivered.
“Believe what you want,” Tukau replied. “Arguing with you is pointless and brings me no gain.”
As foretold, the man’s wife did fall gravely ill, causing many to whisper, “We told you so! You angered Tukau!”
Despite the man’s flaws, the thought of losing his wife sent chills down his spine. He loved her deeply.
Swallowing his pride, he later begged Tukau for forgiveness and sought his advice. True to his generous spirit, Tukau forgave him and took him to consult a medicine man, who lived beyond a hill upstream from our farm.
The man and his wife spent a week with the healer, returning for follow-ups every two weeks. It was remarkable to see her regain her strength and health.
Another unforgettable dream I heard Tukau shared with my parents in 1962 involved a man boarding a yellow bus and travelling the old route between Kuching and Serian Town, operated by the Sarawak Transport Company (STC).
Tukau didn’t just see the man; he also noted the bus number. I won’t reveal that number here, as some might get ideas.
When Tukau shared his dream, the man got creative with the numbers and bought a lottery ticket. To everyone’s surprise, he won — not a fortune, but enough to raise eyebrows.
His wife was thrilled and insisted he buy her a new set of cookware, specifically a big deep wok since her old one had lost its handle.
The celebration was lively; he treated the villagers to crates of lemonade, liquor, chickens, and even a pig from a nearby village.
However, the story took a dark turn a few months later. One of the man’s sons was a passenger on that same bus when it veered off the road and hit a tree.
Thankfully, no one died, but the boy broke his arm and suffered a bloody head injury. Luckily, he was right-handed, so he managed somehow during his recovery.
The lottery winner was fortunate to have some prize money left. He used it to visit his son at Kuching General Hospital (now Sarawak General Hospital).
In another dream, Tukau saw a middle-aged widow standing in front of her house, wearing a brand-new sarong. Assuming it was a whimsical dream, he mentioned it to her casually.
She laughed, saying she didn’t own a new sarong; she typically wore her late husband’s old clothes, which she’d modified for comfort.
To her astonishment, a few months later, a widower from another village came to visit her, bringing a brand-new sarong and blouse as a gift.
In those days, such a gift was a clear indication of interest in a potential romantic relationship.
Even now, whenever I dream, I think of Tukau the Dreamer. He was a mysterious figure whom many struggled to understand.
He sparked my curiosity about dreams and their significance in various cultures throughout history.
Dreams have always held cultural, spiritual, and psychological importance, influencing beliefs and practices.
Many cultures see dreams as connections to higher powers like gods or ancestors, often viewed as messages offering guidance or prophecy.
Traditionally, dreams have provided insights into healing, helping diagnose illnesses and suggesting remedies. “Dream incubation” was a common practice in many cultures, aimed at seeking specific dreams for guidance.
Rich in symbols and hidden meanings, dreams express desires, fears, and conflicts. Various cultures have developed methods for interpreting dreams, which range from personal reflection to symbolic systems.
Dream analysis has allowed people to explore their unconscious minds, inspiring artists, writers, and inventors. Many notable works of art, literature, and scientific breakthroughs have emerged from dreams, opening new avenues of creativity.
People often seek guidance from their dreams, finding insights and solutions to life’s challenges. Dreams can offer fresh perspectives and intuitive wisdom, aiding in difficult situations.
Across cultures, dreams have shaped stories, myths, and folklore, reflecting a society’s collective imagination. Dream symbols frequently appear in mythology, carrying deep meanings as cultural touchstones.
In psychology, dreams have played a key role in understanding the mind. Thinkers like Sigmund Freud, often called the father of psychoanalysis, and Carl Jung, a pioneer in analytical psychology, developed theories and techniques centred around dream analysis.
Freud believed dreams reveal hidden desires and fears, acting as a window into our unconscious mind. Jung, on the other hand, saw dreams as a way to explore deeper aspects of the psyche, including archetypes and collective unconscious.
Dreams uncover hidden desires, fears, and unresolved conflicts. They are important in therapy, aiding self-understanding, healing, and personal growth.
To reiterate, dreams have profoundly impacted culture, spirituality, creativity, and self-awareness. They continue to fascinate and inspire, providing a glimpse into the mysterious workings of the human mind.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the Sarawak Tribune.
