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lunes, 14 de mayo de 2018

My partner


   When I saw him, I could only laugh. He looked at me exactly in the opposing way, making his eyes turn around as if he had just witnessed the most annoying thing happening right in front of him. That was the kind of relationship we had the moment we started working together. For some reason, our boss had decided our skills complimented each other’s, so he appointed us to missions together very often. I have forgotten how many times I pretended to be his brother, his friends and even his boyfriend or even husband.

 It all depended on the places we had to go and the things we had to do. Sometimes, the mission would be a very relaxing cruise through the Caribbean on an enormous boat that would float peacefully for over a week, carrying carefree tourists around. People that just wanted to get a tan and swim and maybe walk the massive ship, enjoying everything the place had to offer. Yes, I have to confess I loved those kinds of missions but we got assigned to them because they were specifically for rookies in this business.

 I remember one time; only about a year after we got to know each other properly, when we were sent to the Bahamas pretending to be a married gay couple going on an exclusively gay cruise. We had to steal some very important papers out of the office of a very important businessman who happened to be frolicking in the boat with his lover, unknown to his wife. It was a hilarious place and situation to be in, and of course stealing the plans was the easiest part of the whole thing. We did it the first night.

 For the other eight days, we had to hold hands pretending to love each other to death, when in reality we had almost hate for one another. Well, it wasn’t really hated but we certainly didn’t see eye to eye. He was the kind of guy that loves to focus on the job and is obsessed by doing everything by the book, like a little boy scout trapped in an adult man’s body. That to me annoyed me so much that I would often just go rogue for a couple of hours and that would, of course, made him go insane, a result I always loved.

 In the bedrooms, we agreed on sleeping on the same bed but avoiding anything weird during the night. No touching each other’s private space, especially not each other’s bodies. The first one to wake up would be the first one into the shower and so on. After a few months, we had a great system that avoided, almost always, any unpleasant moments during our missions. And as they would often take long periods of time to get over with, we just had to find a way to live with one another. It was almost a sacrifice for both of them and we did it because it was our job.

 However, those were our first missions, years one and two. By the third one, they sent us to shorter missions that required a greater deal of commitment from our part. In not so many words, that means that we had to risk our lives during those assignments. Sometimes, we wouldn’t even see each other but once, in critical moments. Besides those, we would often fly solo and assume unrelated identities. I have to confess it was kind of fun at first, playing to be so many different types of men, so many times.

 But after a while, it got annoying and the stakes started looking at me in the face. On my first mission, I got fired several times and they had to pull me out of a dumpster with a bullet on my thigh and several cuts all over my body. It was a weird experience, which was better than what my former partner was going through. I say former, because sometime after we started that decisive year, the bosses decided we wouldn’t be working together as often as we had done in the past. They said it was the right thing to do.

 However, I heard a drug lord almost killed him, after his disguise as a dealer was blown by some snitch. The snitch got killed right in front of him and the drug lord ordered his people to tie my former partner to a pipe and beat him up in every way they wanted. I have no idea of the details, but some people say he could have been killed if it hadn’t been for his security bracelet, which was a secret piece of equipment we all wear that activates itself if we fail to report to it at least once a day.

 You see, the drug lord took all of his clothes away and let him in a cold basement for at least four days. So the bracelet activated itself, called for back up to that specific location and the agent was saved. I was in a mission during that time, so I just heard it all from others. I was tempted to visit him in the hospital, the moment I was able to go back home, but I decided against it. Actually, I realized I was caring for someone I had never cared before, and that confused me enough to do nothing and go back to my life.

 It was almost a year later when they assigned us to a mission together. This time, it was a classic spy stunt: we had no covers, nothing sleek or sexy or nice. We just had to get our hands on a witness, extract him from a certain country, and go back home with that person alive. It was a nightmarish place to be, a horrible experience to be having. But, between all of it, I have to admit I was comforted when I saw his face in the airport the day we left for our mission. I wanted to tell him something but had no idea what to say. So, again, I decided to stay quiet and focus on the mission at hand.

 As predicted, the situation was dire. We had guns and a contact, but that was all blown to hell the second day of our stay in that dreadful hellhole. A group of guys attempted to blow us up in a crappy hotel. It was just luck that the cleaning lady had gone in before us. I know, that sounds insensitive but you kind of lose that part of yourself in such a job. We just started running and killing them all to get the fuck out of there. And in that moment, we were the best team anyone could have ever hoped for.

 It was as if our minds were connected, as well as our bodies. We didn’t even have to look at each other to work in unison; it was almost like a dance that has all the perfect moves to be the best anyone has ever seen. At the same time, I realized we weren’t the same people that had enjoyed those cruises and nice hotels at the start of this whole thing. We were two entirely different men and it showed. I saw it in his eyes the moment we started running away and I had felt it in myself for a long time before that. It just had been confirmed.

 He surprised me with his knowledge of the underworld of that city. Maybe he had been there before or maybe he had just changed that much. I had heard that after his traumatic experience, he had stayed on his post, taking many other risky assignments. He had a nice fiancé at the start but eventually she left him and no one could point at the exact thing that had caused that rift. However, the job was not one where you could see a lot of happy endings. So I understood if that had been the reason why he had decided to be left alone.

 In time, we got our witness and got her out of that place. It was by the skin of our teeth, as I was shot in the shoulder moments before our party rescued us on the border. The thing was, he had stepped in front of me and blocked most bullets by using a metal door as a shield. Only that one bullet had been able to reach me. Making me lose a lot of blood. I fainted in the helicopter that was carrying us and woke up many days later, back home, in a hospital bed. I was very dizzy, so what I saw seemed very unreal.

 It was him. He was fast asleep in the only furniture in the room other than my hospital bed, a very old sofa that seemed to have seen better days. When the nurse came in, she told me he had been there for over two days, never leaving for his home, never going anywhere. He just stayed there.

 After she left, I watched him sleep for a while. And as I did that, I tried to understand the whole situation. It was confusing for me and I know it must be the same for him. So I just decided to think it through another day. What was important was that I felt safe now, and I could finally rest properly for a few days.

martes, 18 de octubre de 2016

About dreams

   This time, I really thought I was living my dream. Everything looked so real, the people and their concerns. They didn’t seem to be following whatever I wanted them to do; they actually seemed to be doing what they wanted. The places looked so authentic, real and well crafted. I have no idea how my brain created that place I was in just some minutes ago but I think I wouldn’t mind going back some day. The difficult thing is that I have to be really tired and not being able to sleep a lot in order to go so deep into my dreams.

 Waking up gets so much harder like that… I would love to be able to choose everything inside a dream. Not only who appears and how, but also the setting and the story and, of course, the length of it all. They are some delicious dreams that make you believe you are on top of the world and, often, they only last a few minutes or at least feel like it. I would love to be able to choose everything because dreams are the best doors to access when the eyes are getting closed and resting is the prime objective of the evening. I love when it happens.

 Thankfully, I haven’t had a bad dream in a very long time. I actually don’t remember when that happened and I think it’s better if I don’t try to recall that event. Nightmares are awful and populated by the most disgusting creatures our mind could ever control. Nightmares are chaotic and that feeling of not being able to get hold of anything is the one that really makes us wake up sweating or screaming. Is not what actually happens, which we know is false, but rather the sense that we are not safe anywhere, even inside our heads.

 But yeah, nightmares have been off the table for a while or at least the ones that are openly awful. I have had dreams that are strange and difficult to understand. Even there, in the middle of the dream, I know that nothing is real but at the same time I know that there’s nothing that makes sense and that makes it worse somehow. Knowing that you are dreaming makes everything a little bit more real, for the better or for worse. But I think I prefer it most of the time, it kind of gives me the idea that I am a little bit more in control.

 Right now, my body hurts a little bit but that’s because I didn’t slept a right amount of time. I push myself to do things no one is asking me to do and they have this negative effects on me. Feeling like crap when I wake up is nothing really knew for me but it’s even harder and more painful when I push too hard and when there’s a dream involved. I feel I slept during a movie and now I will never know the end because it was a one time in my life kind of thing.

 What I like about dreams is that, if your head is up to it, anything can happen. You might have one of those dreams in which you fall and fall and fall through a various array of holes but you could also meet someone you haven’t seen for many years. I think the brain creates whatever is better for us at that moment: if we need a hug, it will create someone that can give it to us. If we want to feel smart, our brain will go back to a moment we felt exceedingly brilliant. Of course, things can be a lot more complex than that. Just like in real life.

 I believe that in every single dream, you have the capacity to intervene and make it yours. Many people thing they are passive subjects when they dream, having to go through some determined events in order to get to the final part of the dream where you may have some kind of revelation or maybe just wake up thinking nothing at all. I do think you can use your mind to affect the outcome of any dream and I even think you can decide when it should end, all of this in the right sleeping conditions, as they are not all ideal.

 For me, dreams are the base of what I try to do. I have been creating things out of them for a long time and if it wasn’t for that subconscious part of my brain, I wouldn’t have as many ideas as I have. I’m not saying that they are all amazing ideas that have to go somewhere but I do like that my brain keeps creating, even if just changing a little bit of some ideas that I have had before or even twisting stories that I have read or heard about. I have to admit that I am probably not one hundred percent original at all times. It would be very hard.

 What I don’t like about waking up from a not satisfying night of sleeping is that, for the rest of the day, I feel like there’s something missing and I’m right. Because what I miss is rest and what I have is an unfulfilling dream and there is nothing in the world that can make that feeling go away. That feeling of being tired and not fulfilled by anything. In those cases, dreaming come too close to actual living and, I have to say, I don’t care about that one bit. If dreams become as heavy as life, then the magic is lifted and everything goes to dust.

 I already have a real life and, although it’s fun when dreams imitate life, I know how to tell apart the imitation from the actual thing. If they both become the same thing, a very essential way to cope disappears into the world. It’s scary to think that we might, one day, not be able to dream again. Some people actively try to eliminate that experience from the nights because they think it makes them feel weak, because it scares them. They don’t want to face themselves and they hide behind any possibility in order not to do it.

 I think it makes us very human, although it also makes us a little bit paranoid from time to time but I do not think that’s always something wrong. I think it’s great when there’s something in life that can shake us so much. And who better to do that than ourselves. We are the ones creating those dreams after all and we cannot be afraid of our own selves. It is simply ridiculous to hide away from who we really are, whoever that person might be. People have to stop living in fear and embrace whatever character may lurk in the darkness.

 Of course, the word “darkness” doesn’t mean that everything buried deep inside us has to be bad or anything. There can be very good things in the dark too but we will never find out if we don’t dare to take a look. And the perfect place to do it is in a dream, where nothing can really hurt us. We have to learn to be scared and to cry and even to scream. We have to accept that some parts of life are more difficult than others. We have to learn how to look at ourselves in the mirror, without any fear but with our eyes wide open.

 All of this sounds so weird, so insane. But anyone that has ever dreamed can easily understand what I’m saying. It is a world of wonder but also a place where we can learn so much about who we really are. We don’t find out about that going to the other end of the world but just hearing and watching what our brain is telling us, all those things buried below the surface of our own personalities. Everything that we area is there, waiting to be able to surface or at least the be represented in some capacity in the real world.

 We all have bad thing and good things. No one is saying that we are going to like every single thing about our personality that we find deep inside our subconscious. But we have to acknowledge its existence in order to be able to handle it correctly. If life gives us the possibility of learning more and maybe improve in some areas of our lives, I think the smart choice is to take that chance and exploit it as much as we can. Knowledge has never really been a curse, only for the ignorant and the ones that live in fear but not for the brave.


 And brave we shall be. Yes, even when we go to bed and close our eyes or when we open them and realize we are in a brand new day. No matter where we are sleeping or who is next to us. We have to be brave in order to accept who we are and dreams are made of us. Their fabric is our life and our thoughts, so we have to learn to embrace it in order to have a stable mind and heart. No one says dreaming is easy, it never is. But it’s the first step to greater things.

sábado, 1 de octubre de 2016

Change

   It’s very strange when everything is so familiar but, at the same time, it feels so strange, as if it wasn’t real. Of course everything is real. I haven’t stepped into another dimension or anything of the sort. I just stepped into a plane and, because of the time change, it seems like an eleven-hour flight was only about four hours. I suppose that means I gained some time but I do no feel very fortunate to have achieved that. Again, it feels like I’ve cheated somehow but that’s silly, as many people do it in a day and other lose hours, myself included.

 The body is the one that is the most confused. My mind, I think, can understand the issue but the body, as you know, has a process of adjustment that takes a bit more time. And it’s not only about the fact that time was involved in the process, it’s also the change in weather and surroundings. Things cannot be more different and, at the same time, they are exactly the same. I know: I don’t really make sense. And, to be honest, I won’t be trying to make sense for the next few lines because I think it’s not necessary. Everyone can understand this situation.

 One thing that struck me right as I stepped out of the plane was the cold. I mean, I have lived with this cold for a good time of my life, but I didn’t seem to remember how peculiar it is. It feels like something gently pressuring your body from every side, very gently. It’s certainly not as awful as full-blown winter weather but it had a particularity that I think most people ignore. Maybe it’s because it can go away pretty fast if the sun and the clouds help, not that it happens that often. Oh and the clouds! So many, many thick clouds.

 I forgot I wasn’t going to see much of the sky here. It rains constantly, making the city appear even darker than it is. The weather in some parts of the world really doesn’t help at all, not the people living there or the ones visiting. And it always leaves a lasting impression because it’s the subject people love to talk about. They remember the weather in one place better than many other things that could happen. It could seem as if it wasn’t that important but I do think it is crucial to what someone might think and how a place can be perceived.

 Oh, and I’m coughing. But it’s not the weather here that caused that. Instead, it was the dry cold air in the airplane, which has been really annoying to me in the recent days. Before this flight, I took other two less than two weeks ago so it makes sense why my nose cannot seem to get better at all and why I seem to be in the brink of the flu every day. I think I’ve been able to push it away for a while but it would be difficult to do that forever. At one given time, I will have to be sick again and I’m not looking forward to that at all.

 Another funny thing, or maybe not funny but just curious, is the fact that my bags felt very full but, in the end, they did not contain anything out of the ordinary. Just clothes, some souvenirs and a bunch of paper I like to collect in the form of tourist brochures, magazines, books and others. I don’t really have that many pieces of clothing or anything. In fact, I had to throw away a few things in order to be able to get it all in the bags without making them too “overweight” for the airline’s regulations.

 I will be able to put everything in its place in less than thirty minutes, maybe even counting all of that paper I told you I have. It gets a bit ridiculous when you’re able to put every single piece of your life in two bags and then move them from one continent to the other. It really makes you think about the print your putting into this world and how important it might really be. It makes you think about your life, your achievements, everything. It can certainly be kind of overwhelming, when you’re playing close attention.

 But I did it without paying attention and I think it was for the best. It’s not useful to confront everything in your life in one go. It is much better if you just deal with one thing at a time. That guarantees that you can achieve better conclusions, instead of suffering because of everything that you might “find out” about yourself. I guess it really depends on how much you know and accept yourself. It may be even possible that you don’t have to face any demons because you don’t have any. No one knows how fast people confront their fears and anxieties.

 Sorry, I feel I veered in the wrong direction with that last paragraph. I guess it’s because change is always so hard on people, no matter who you are. Change takes a toll in the heart and the soul but not always in a bad way. It’s just one of those things you have to deal with and I’ve done it before so I know what I’m talking about. It can be very challenging to get from point A to point B, sometimes even impossible for some. But for others, like me in this very moment, it is not a matter of wanting but rather a matter of having to.

 There are clothes on the floor and objects beneath the bed. The bags are there, gently asking to be liberated from all my things and even my cellphone is asking to work in an environment different to the one he was in. Even inanimate objects seem to realize that things have changed. Or maybe that’s just me, imagining things to make everything a little bit easier. Who knows? Or… who cares, to be honest? I think I’m allowed to think and care about many different things right now, especially as I get used to the altitude, which can take a while.

 Page three and I think I have nothing more to say. It feels weird that even my fingers seem to weigh more here. My body in general feels heavier for some reason. Is that even normal? I hope it is because it’s certainly no fun at all. I expect my head to hurt a little bit in the next few days and my eyes to adjust to the light, because even that it’s slightly different. People never think about things like that and the fact is that they really affect your life without you even noticing.

 I have some reordering to do, some things to throw away and some others to fit in their new spots. I think that may happen in the next week or two because everything will feel strange for a while now, even people’s accent, as well as their way of doing things. I now it sounds silly but people are only equal before the law. In all other cases people are extremely different in ways that most people never even think about. I like that but at the same time I know how difficult it can be to adjust. Time will tell I guess. Isn’t that funny?

 I forget to say that I feel different anyways. I mean, I’m no exactly the same person that left a year ago. It may seem like I am, and probably not that many things have changed, but I do feel I have made important changes in how I perceive the world around me. It has been in my best interest and I frankly don’t think all those changes will be annulled being in here. If anything, they will all be but to the test again and that’s what life is all about so I don’t fear any of that. Challenge is a natural process and I, for one welcome it.

 I will have to make adjustments, of course. Pretending nothing has changed is a stupid way to face life. The best thing is to find out what’s the best new way to do the things you have and like to do and then it all becomes clearer and life just transforms into a good path to walk on. And that’s what I really want to happen. I want a path to follow; I want my steps to be safe and not to stumble down from one side to the other. I want to have security and also I want to be certain that life can find it’s way to me and me to it. Does that make sense?


 Probably not. I think that many of the things I wrote here, this morning, don’t make any sense at all. But that doesn’t really matter. I can blame the cold or the bed or maybe even my body. Hell, I can even blame my brain for being robbed of many hours! The truth is change has happened and it would be, at the very least, interesting to know what happens next. So many things are lurking around in life, waiting to be found or to jump on top of you. Let’s just breathe a little bit and take it slowly, trying to avoid pain and just having the best time possible.

viernes, 22 de julio de 2016

Sueño familiar

   Ya lo he imaginado varias veces y no entiendo la razón. Cada vez que lo hago me pongo nervioso y no entiendo que quieren decir esas visiones de mi mente. ¿Porqué tengo que ver ese tipo de cosas? ¿Por qué tengo que plantarle la cara a algo que parece tan improbable, tan poco posible que me parece incluso molesto verlo ya tantas veces. Me pensar mucho más de lo que debería, pues es una ilusión, una fantasía, un sueño estúpido que no tiene el más mínimo sentido ni importancia. Pero el caso es que ahí está y sucede seguido.

 Como dije antes, se trata de un sueño. La ubicación cambia a veces. En ocasiones es mi casa de verdad, en otras es alguna otra casa, sea grande y señorial o un apartamento que nunca he visto en mi vida. Esos lugares se supone que se ubican en ciudades o sitios que conozco pero eso solo lo logro sentir pues jamás logro ver o recordar si hay algo ahí afuera que me indique en donde estoy, si todo eso puede llegar a parecer más real de lo que ya siento que es.

 Siempre estamos mi mamá, mi hermana, mi hermano y yo. A veces está mi padre y a veces no. A esto no le doy mucha importancia porque suele pasar mucho en mis sueños que hay gente que mi subconsciente elimina. Sí, puede que haya profundas razones por las que eso pase pero no las sé y la verdad no quiero explorarlas, al menos no antes de terminar de explicar toda esta historia que me incomoda.

 El caso, es que mi madre siempre está muerta en esos sueños. Y lo más impresionante de todo, como si eso no fuese lo suficientemente impresionante, es que a veces el asesino es mi hermano. En este momento no recuerdo si lo hace por mano propia y mucho menos que arma usa si es que usa alguna. No tengo idea y creo que es mejor para mi balance emocional no saberlo. La imagen ya es demasiado aterradora para darle un contexto más rico.

 Siempre hay alguna pelea en el sueño, acerca del tema. Por alguna razón sabemos que mi hermano lo hizo pero no lo podemos probar. Y sus razones siempre son extrañas, como que las ocultas detrás de acciones sin sentido como hablar en voz baja o esconderse de nosotros en la misma casa. Me pone nervioso esa parte porque es algo que no reconozco ni remotamente. No me es nada familiar, menos mal.

 Ahora que lo recuerdo, mi padre estaba en el último de los sueños. No hablaba casi, solo parecía demasiado triste para decir nada. Parece una sombra de la persona real, tal vez es por eso que a veces no está en esos sueños. Es otro ser que usa la misma piel pero no es mi progenitor ni de cerca. No tiene su encanto.

 Lo peor de todo es (se pone peor) es que aunque casi nunca entiendo como llegué allí, esta última vez por fin pude presenciar la mayoría del sueño. Es decir, pude ver a mi madre morir. Mucha sangre, un cuarto más grande en el interior que en el exterior y gritos míos y de otras personas que ahora no recuerdo. La recuerdo allí tirada y luego ignorar su cuerpo alejándome de él, tratando de hacer que ese momento sea lo menos posible que se pueda. Me asusta todo el escenario, las acciones, lo que veo. Me asusto a mi mismo con lo que pienso.

 Pienso que debo castigar a mi hermano, que debo ser yo el que lo lleve a la justicia y haga que todo el peso de la ley caiga sobre su cabeza y lo aplaste para siempre porque, para mí, no tiene perdón ni de Dios ni de los hombres. La última vez, y de esto me acuerdo muy claramente, le dije que si llegaba a ser condenado esa sería la última vez que me vería pues nunca querría verlo de nuevo, jamás, ni por equivocación ni porque lo mandaran a la misma silla eléctrica.

 Y de repente, tengo conciencia de mi mismo. Es decir, estoy soñando y dentro del sueño lo sé, lo asumo y lo comprendo. Sé que no puede morir así mi hermano porque eso no existe en mi país, sé que mi madre no está muerta y sé que mi padre es una persona mucho más rica que esa sombra que parece flotar por todos lados. Nada de eso es real y lo sé porque estoy consciente de que tengo un sueño que, ojalá, sea imposible.

 Ya me ha pasado antes, en varios sueños. Simplemente sé que estoy soñando y por eso dejo de preocuparme demasiado. Lo normal es que los sueños no duren mucho tiempo después de eso pues se les acaba la gasolina fantástica con la que operan. De todas maneras es casi surrealista estar caminando por un sitio que sabes que no existe, en el que sabe que nada vale de verdad pues es todo una ilusión que no tiene el más mínimo sentido. Es falso y a veces eso reconforta.

 Sí, ya me imagino que varias personas pensarán que todo sueño tiene un significado ligado al subconsciente y no sé que más cosas. Y ola verdad creo poco en esas fantasías. Creo que soñamos lo que tenemos acumulado en la mente, lo que nuestros cerebro tiene por procesar como conversaciones con gente que conocemos que luego aparece de repente mientras dormimos.

 Por ejemplo, horas antes de dormir había hablado con mi madre, mi hermano y mi hermano y ayer con mi padre. Los tengo todos en mi mente y pienso en ellos y nuestra conversación y mi cerebro obviamente usa lo que tiene más fresco. Casi nunca tengo sueños al azar de cosas que pasaron hace veinte años, porque no tendría sentido alguno al menos para mí.

 Cabe decir que el rol de mi hermana se parece mucho al de mi padre en ese sueño recurrente. Es una sombra de ella, aunque una que llora muy parecido y por eso creo que también me pongo nervioso, como fastidiado con todo el ambiente pesado del sueño. Es demasiado y tal vez por eso es que me doy cuenta que es falso. Sé que mi hermana llora pero sé que hacerlo como la mujer del sueño no es realista y la hace parecerse a mil otras mujeres y no a mi hermana. Son detalles así los que, al fin de cuentas, hacen que me despierte.

 Estos sueños normalmente vienen cuando me despierto en la mitad de la madrugada y luego duermo un poquito más. En esa hora o par de horas es que sueño como loco, con lujo de detalles. Unas aventuras que mi yo consciente muchas veces encontraría imposible de imaginar. Pero ahí están y siempre aparecen en esos lapsos de tiempo tan cortos, supongo que porque mi sueño no es muy profundo cuando duermo así.

 Es un mundo extraño el de los sueños pero debo decir que me atrae bastante a pesar de las cosas horribles que pueda haber en él. Es un mundo retorcido y sin sentido pero me gusta el hecho de que salga todo de mí pues nadie más puede intervenir en su creación, al menos no de manera activa. Soy yo solo y todos mi problemas o recuerdos los que se mezclan como en una licuadora y producen diferentes tipos de resultados, algunos mucho más divertidos que otros.

 La explicación sicológica, como lo explique antes, me tiene sin cuidado. No solo porque creo que es una ciencia que se basa en supuestos, más parecida a la astrología que a las demás ciencias serias, sino porque no me atrae en nada la idea de que alguien más crea saber más que yo sobre mis sueños y mi cerebro que yo mismo. Se me hace ridículo si quiera pensarlo aunque ya habrá gente que crea que necesita una mano cuando quiere entender algo que no logra procesar.

 Comparto la necesidad por otras voces, otros intelectos que ayuden a dar explicaciones, a racionalizar algo que no tiene porqué ser racionalizado. Sobre todo si son amistades cercanas o, mejor aún, los personajes del sueño. En este caso, sería interesante saber que piensa mi familia de lo que ocurrió en mi mente y ver que explicación le pueden dar además de la obvia basada en supuestos ridículos y anticuados.


 Para mi quiere decir que tengo ahora a mi familia muy presente, cosa que es obvia. Los necesito y los quiero, cosa que es cierta. Y puede que tenga problemas o temas por discutir con ellos. ¿Quién no? Pero no deja de ser chocante y mucho menos cuando el sueño parece durar menos de quince minutos.