Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Dream Journal Entry #1 - "Unlucky Slots"


    
Zombie apocalypse... here we go!

 The white hallway was bright and filled only with the sound of our footsteps. There wasn’t any kind of door or window, not even vents (from what I can remember). My friend Caroline and I had been walking for what it seemed like hours. We stopped to take a break, thinking it may be one of those endless hallways people talk about. Suddenly, we noticed, the shiny white floor was no longer spotless. Muddy footprints, of all shapes and sizes, were starting to cover the floor, leaving trails on different directions. The thought that there had been (or there were) more people in that place crossed our minds, of course. I remember Caroline asking: “¿Cuánta gente hay aquí?” (How many people are here?) . To what I replied: “Me parece que un montón.” (It seems like a lot, to me.) Besides this, and the familiar sense of moistness in the air, I cannot recall anything else (not even what we were wearing). The last thing I do remember, however, was lying on the floor (which was now spotless, again) and saying: “Voy a dormir un rato.” (I’m going to sleep for a while).



I opened my eyes and smiled. The feeling of being carried away by the waves made me feel calmed and content. I was floating in the waters of Playa Navío, my favorite in my little home island of Vieques. I knew this because I recognized the caves on the west end of this beautiful crescent-shaped beach and because of the giant brown cayo. There was a sense of familiarity to the scene, like a déjà vu, except that the known beauty had been long gone and, upon realizing this, I stopped smiling.

The temperature was in the usual 85 degrees, I’d guess, but the “everwhite” sand was stained with a dark brown shade that gave the shore a muddy appearance. Though I was still floating, that mixture of contentment and tranquillity started to fade as I kept finding more wrongful elements in this picture. There was nothing appealing about the scene anymore. The once crystal clear water was no longer reflecting the peacefulness of the clear blue sky, not even in its own shades of turqoise (color). Instead, the water had become murky and “gooey”. In a loud voice, I said to myself: “¡¿Qué es esto?”. (What is this?!). I remember calling my husband, Kenneth, but the beach was vacant. I turned over and started swimming pointlessly (to my surprise, swimming was no challenge). I recall not wanting to stay in that nasty water nor touch that sand. Honestly, I have no clue of where the heck I thought I was going (then) until I finally decided to swim to the shore.

I stood up as soon as I could. I looked at myself and, apparently, I was angry. “¿Quién carajos se viste así pa’ ir a la playa?” (Who the **** dresses like this to go to the beach?). I was wearing a white, button down shirt and long black dressy pants. I was dry and barefoot(ed). What I saw as “brown sand” was, actually, concrete. There was no wind and the beach had changed from vacant to crowded. I walked past three children, two girls and one boy, who were throwing sandballs everywhere. I walked past the tall coconut palm trees and, finally, past a gazebo where a group of people were celebrating a birthday. I knew this because they were singing “Las mañanitas” to someone. No one seemed to notice me.
I walked towards the dirt road that serves as the main entrance to Navío. There, was my father’s 1995 green Geo Tracker. I patted my pants, took a key out of my pocket and, without using it yet, I opened the driver’s side door. I got in and I see my 16 year old sister sitting on the passenger’s side.

Her long, black hair was down and styled into what we call a “moja’íto” (wet look). She was wearing a pair of aviator glasses with gold plated frames that matched her hoop earrings; and a brown bluse (or maybe burgundy or maroon. Memories are fallible). She looked at me, as I getting into the car. I remember her resting her right cheek against her right index finger. She looked just like Mom.

“¿Compraste las papitas?” (Did you buy the chips?) she asked me.
“No, las compramos en El Encanto.” (No, we’ll buy them at El Encanto) I replied.
“Ah, pues, bien.... Vamos donde pai.” (Oh, well... let’s go to dad’s) she said back.
“Llámalo y pregúntale donde está que tu sabes que el se pierde” (Call him and ask him where he is, ‘cause you know he disappears) I said.
“Ya lo llamé. Está en casa de abuelo.” (I called him already, he’s at grandpa’s.) she said.
“Dale” I finally said.
There was a moment of silence while I inserted the key in the ignition. I sighed, turn the car on, then waited for her to say something else. As I going to put the car in reverse (I believe), I could hear a rooster crowing repeatedly. I jumped up and was greeted by the cool morning air.


Share a crazy dreams of yours in the comments section below!


Thanks for reading.
LB

No comments:

Post a Comment