Changes

"Once I heard that no experience was real unless you wrote it down on a piece of paper." My first post in this blog starts with this very sentence. I can't say I fully agree with this statement, but there is some truth in it and I'll explain in this post.

I believe in every experience lies a degree of reality, of how it felt and feels for you with every passing day. For example, when you share something with someone else it just feels more real then when you experience it all by yourself. You can share this something in two ways. The first and more common way is to have this someone there by your side, at the very moment of the experience. The other way is to tell someone what hapened to you, what you saw and felt, make them experience what you've been through using your own words.

So then I figured out that what's really important is not writing it down, what matters most is the sharing. If you want something to live on, you must put it out there for everyone to see and be touched by it.

For five years I've kept I blog where I shared some of my dreams. My thoughts then were different. Back then I fully agreed to the first sentence, but we learn and we change. For this reason I decided to rename the blog. New thoughts, new title.

Unwanted Goodbye

He had just left the house for the long awaited recording session with his band. I was half awake when I heard noises coming from the living room of our small apartment. As I have a sad disposition to always think about the worst first, the noises being from a robber came into my mind instantly. I was afraid that, if the robber knew I was aware of him, he would harm me, so I continued to pretend I was sleeping. I could feel the noise coming closer, by the door, near the bathroom, somewhere. Half opening my left eye, I saw him through the mirror, not the robber, but he who left me alone in bed for his recording session.

Maybe he forgot something, maybe he doesn't want to wake me up. Again, I pretended I was sleeping, otherwise I would disappoint him, by showing his efforts in keeping me asleep had failed.

The noise was now coming from the wardrobe right by my side, I couldn't fake anymore and opened my eye... There was no one there. I looked around the room... no one. Maybe I was dreaming, maybe was just my imagination. In any way, I closed my eyes again.

Then I felt him, sitting by my side and passing his arm around me, as if he would kiss me. In despair, I grabbed his arm so he would not escape me again, but when I opened my eyes, I could see nothing, I could feel him, but I could not see him. I asked: "Who is there?", and he said: "It's me". Only then I began to see him. "I love you" he said as he kissed me. I could feel a sense of mourning in his face, although for a moment I didn't understand why. Until the truth came to me: "Are you all right?" I asked, "There has been an accident" he said. The realization made it hard to breath, to think. My phone was right next to me so, with a rash motion, I grabbed it, as if I could prevent something by acting fast. He was on speed dial, which I was glad for. A flash of reason made me aware of his presence again and looking at him, sitting in our bed, I asked: "How could you? You are my life, we had plans, how am I supposed to make a meaning for all of it now?". He sadly looked at me with eyes that weren't there anymore. It was starting to become just a vessel, a vessel for the connection and affection we once felt, and that vessel would also disappear, shortly.

Someone answered the phone, a stranger. He asked if I was who I was and, after receiving my confirmation, the stranger cried and said "I'm sorry, he is not with us anymore". I felt like I was crumbling down, I wanted it all to be just a lie, to go back to sleep and wake up in a world where this was all just a bad dream. And so I did, and so I woke up.

My Lliclla Bag

In Peru, Lliclla is a Quechua word for a colorful square woven cloth that covers the back and shoulders. It is secured at the front, tied or using a safety pin. As I walked in the streets of Lima, I couldn't keep myself from being fascinated by the colors of those llicllas. The women could use it to carry cargo, to keep them warm and, the most beautiful thing, to carry their children. As a tourist trying to blend in, I wanted one.

I went to the closest shop I could see that had llicllas for sale. It was a tourist shop. I asked the vendor for a lliclla and she showed me, one by one, all the different colors she had. I tried one out, soon to figure how complicated it would be to carry my cargo in it. Imagine having to unfold and fold all that cloth every time I needed my wallet, or my mobile, while it's ringing! It just wouldn't do. She gave me an alternative, a lliclla made into a bag, with a zipper... much more practical. I bought two. Transferred all my stuff from the purse I was using to my new red lliclla bag and left the shop smiling.

Happy I walked down the streets of Lima with my new lliclla bag, still fascinated by the women with their original llicllas. One of them caught my attention. She had a baby on her back and she was laughing at me. I was intrigued by how a person, that I've never seen before, could be so amused by the sight of me. And then I realized she was laughing at me foolishness. Silly girl trying to blend in by spending 20 soles on a lliclla bag. But it wasn't her laugh what was disturbing me the most. It was the preciousness of her cargo, in an original lliclla, and the meaningless of mine, in a fake one. And I could just watch as she walked away.

The Dream When The King Came To Visit

It was long past midnight. I was at a train station with a friend waiting for no train, for no one. We were just walking along the platform, having a nice conversation. Although it was not an abandoned train station, there was no one around and no train scheduled to arrive or depart. There was only me and my friend telling me a very interesting story about her life, one of the many. The night was cold and dry and apart from her story all I could here was silence.

Listening to her was such a joy. She could make any kind of drama into a comedy. Laughing at one of her many jokes, I bounced my head back. That's when I noticed, from the corner of left eye, a dark figure. I turned slowly and there he was. With his dark clothes, his dark hair and his dark eyes, looking to the ground, immersed in his own thoughts, he was there in my dream, sitting on a bench at that train station. I could see his calm and pale face that showed no expression or feeling. I could feel the presence of an old distant land, a land that I wanted to be my home.

He didn't look at me. He didn't move. I didn't go to him. I turned back to my friend. I walked away. I knew I couldn't live in his land. He gave me a small place to visit every once in a while and that was enough. He was there just to make sure everything was going all right in my dreams.

Backtracking

There was a paper. In it, a grid was printed, a calendar. There was no reference to a month, or days in the week, or even a date, a number, only a grid. At the end of everyday, I put an X on one of the squares. Left to right, top to bottom. A feeling of happiness and accomplishment took over me as I marked that X. As if making through every single day was the hardest test life has ever put upon me. I regained energy while, armed with my red pen, I drew the X. This simple and insignificant action was the fuel that kept me going through the next day.

Until one day, I woke up to find out the X I had drawn the day before was gone. Thinking it was just my imagination, I let it go. By the end of the day, I wrote an X where in the morning I felt one was missing. It was not my imagination. On the next day, I realized two X's were missing. In a desperate attempt take back what I had lost, I wrote down both X's. I watched as they faded right in front of my eyes...

Time was walking backwards as I realized the long waited day at the end of the calendar would never come.

Empty Nights.

Now I find myself surprised with how long it's been since my last post. Yesterday, talking to a friend, he asked me if I had a blog. And in fact I did, or I do. So here I am. After my last post, I entered a new era in my life. Confusing one. Lots of things to decide and nights with no sleep. If I remember correctly, I spent over six months without remembering my dreams. As a result, I completely forgot about my own dream country. I can't say that I'm back. I do have a few interesting dreams to talk about. Let's see what happens...

A Friend's Love

Today I had a very simple dream. No aliens, or warms, or tasty toes, just me and an old friend of mine at my grandma's old house. We sat on the garden's bench, talking about our lives, catching up with everything we've been trough the last years. My dear friend was looking at me deeply, concerned about my happiness. I said I didn't know if I was happy, and maybe I'll never know until the day I die (or maybe not even then).

We continued our friendly conversation, and it felt so good too hug my friend and be, for that moment, in my dream, completely and immensely happy. But the most amazing thing about this dream is none of the above mentioned. The most amazing thing is how unexpected love comes to comfort you. If you need or not (or think you don't need), if you are happy or not, friends find a way to send their love to you without even knowing about it.