Only in dreams
Sep. 29th, 2003 05:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thedarksiren2This is what I was doing before I woke up late this morning:
I knew Gus was leaving Guatemala very soon, and I raced urgently to catch a plane to where he lived there. When I landed, I stepped out of the plane into a narrow street filled with vendors trying to sell me candles and masks, spices and fruit. I kept thanking them and graciously declining, but they were so persistent. People began to fill the street until it was difficult to move, and I was scared I would miss seeing him off. I began pushing my way through, realizing that the people were all wearing masks for a la Dia los Muertos festival. Skulls looked down on me, laughter and the brushing of bodies and fabric were the only sounds I could hear. I realized I was wearing a white dress with red stripes, but could not remember putting it on.
I eventually found myself very frustrated and cried out loudly. The streets froze, as if time stopped. People did not move anymore, they just stood there like statues. I moved cautiously through them, trying not to hurt anyone or move them much. I felt like I had done something very wrong, but also felt it was a necessary evil if I were to get to Gus before he left.
I rounded a corner and heard the sound of dishes and music. There was a doorway into a restaurant to my right, so I walked inside only to find hundreds of very wealthy people dining together. I looked around and saw a beautiful woman singing on the stage with her band, and waiters were everywhere, serving people with smiles. My eyes looked back and forth, and somewhere inside of me I wondered how I wound up in this place.
When I turned to face forward, Gustavo was walking toward me. I suddenly understood that, in the dream, he owned this restaurant, and he fed the hungry, clothed them in the richest of clothing and made them feel important. I smiled, relieved that I had found him. We walked toward each other, grasping hands as we met, like old friends reunited.
We stood and got a good look at each other -- I guess that, even in dreams, we weren't so sure what the other looked like. We then hugged hello, and he kissed me on the forehead. I stood on my toes to kiss his cheek, and he told me how glad he was that I could make it. We stepped back from each other, and he took my hand, and said," I want to show you something. Follow me."
His smile was so familiar, and I smiled in return, agreeing and walking with him further inside the restaurant. I felt wanted, needed, as if I had finally "come home."
Then I woke up without an alarm clock, and panic ensued.
I sometimes wonder about past-lives. I am not sure whether or not I believe in them, but if I were someone in a past life, I am almost certain it was a soldier, perhaps one of Hispanic origin. Too many reasons to list why I have come to that pseudo-conclusion, but it is there, questioning away.
I knew Gus was leaving Guatemala very soon, and I raced urgently to catch a plane to where he lived there. When I landed, I stepped out of the plane into a narrow street filled with vendors trying to sell me candles and masks, spices and fruit. I kept thanking them and graciously declining, but they were so persistent. People began to fill the street until it was difficult to move, and I was scared I would miss seeing him off. I began pushing my way through, realizing that the people were all wearing masks for a la Dia los Muertos festival. Skulls looked down on me, laughter and the brushing of bodies and fabric were the only sounds I could hear. I realized I was wearing a white dress with red stripes, but could not remember putting it on.
I eventually found myself very frustrated and cried out loudly. The streets froze, as if time stopped. People did not move anymore, they just stood there like statues. I moved cautiously through them, trying not to hurt anyone or move them much. I felt like I had done something very wrong, but also felt it was a necessary evil if I were to get to Gus before he left.
I rounded a corner and heard the sound of dishes and music. There was a doorway into a restaurant to my right, so I walked inside only to find hundreds of very wealthy people dining together. I looked around and saw a beautiful woman singing on the stage with her band, and waiters were everywhere, serving people with smiles. My eyes looked back and forth, and somewhere inside of me I wondered how I wound up in this place.
When I turned to face forward, Gustavo was walking toward me. I suddenly understood that, in the dream, he owned this restaurant, and he fed the hungry, clothed them in the richest of clothing and made them feel important. I smiled, relieved that I had found him. We walked toward each other, grasping hands as we met, like old friends reunited.
We stood and got a good look at each other -- I guess that, even in dreams, we weren't so sure what the other looked like. We then hugged hello, and he kissed me on the forehead. I stood on my toes to kiss his cheek, and he told me how glad he was that I could make it. We stepped back from each other, and he took my hand, and said," I want to show you something. Follow me."
His smile was so familiar, and I smiled in return, agreeing and walking with him further inside the restaurant. I felt wanted, needed, as if I had finally "come home."
Then I woke up without an alarm clock, and panic ensued.
I sometimes wonder about past-lives. I am not sure whether or not I believe in them, but if I were someone in a past life, I am almost certain it was a soldier, perhaps one of Hispanic origin. Too many reasons to list why I have come to that pseudo-conclusion, but it is there, questioning away.
