Paging Dr. Freud

It was one of those times where I reviewed my dream in that weird place between sleeping and being awake. That way I would remember it better. The details are crazy but I elaborate not a speck.

It was just like real life. I was here in Nicaragua, walking home from school during daylight hours. I had just passed the old baseball field when a fat Nicaraguan man with long curly black hair and a beard to match said, “Adios mi amor,” in that lecherous voice so many man can have. Just like real life me, dream me had been in-country for a while and was FED UP.

“Que asco, chancho (How gross, pig),” dream me said as I picked up a small handful of rocks. As if they could protect me.

Then he made it clear (as people in dreams can some how vaguely do) that he was going to do me bodily harm. He took out a knife. I took off in a run. I glanced over my shoulder only to see him stab two men who had come over to calm him down. I ran faster.

I turned the first corner I came to and jumped/scaled/climbed a fence to fall into the patio of a rich family`s house. I made it on top of the roof and was hiding out, constantly looking for him from my blind.

Then the rich family came out and made me get down. I tried to explain but they didn`t care. They piled into their car and all of the sudden, he was there. His knife was out and he had me by the hands. He stabbed straight through one of them to show me he was serious. The family was gone. He then went for my stomach and I swear I could feel the warm blood rushing over my organs. Then he sliced open my other hand. It hurt. Whoever said you feel no pain in dreams was wrong.

I somehow escaped and was again running down the rock/dirt streets of my town. Suddenly, MY family pulled up in a mini-van. The door slid open with a bang and I hopped in. For some reason none of them noticed I was doubled over with blood pouring out of my stomach. They were visiting me one last time before I came home and were very excited to go see a Dali exhibit that was in town. I wanted them to like it here, so I acquiesced and we went (dream Dali was apparently all about painting Nicaraguan national symbols: the bird, the flag, the escudo, the tree, etc.). I calmly asked my dad if we could swing by the hospital when we were done. They said yes.

And then, I woke up.

So, normally I´m not one to share dreams because usually they`re only meaningful to the people who dream them, BUT I remembered this one in such detail that I couldn`t help but share it with my sitemate. Immediately upon finishing she said, “Well, it´s obvio what it`s about. Nicaraguan-you is dying and it`s painful. Soon you´ll be reunited with your family and everything will be good.”

As for Dali…I don`t really know what he was all about.

3.5 weeks left. Weird.