Dreams

Dreams...
Who can explain a dream?
I am not talking about desires, those things we want to have or to do in our little lifes nor the things we plan. I am talking about dreams, those strange messages, images, words, feelings, sensations that come into our sleep.
I guess it is one of the most explored subjects ever but until now it remains being one of the most secret secrets of our mind.

I often dream with water. Big waves. Really big waves, Tsunamis. And in these dreams the big wave is approaching and sometimes I feel fear, sometimes I don't. What I know it's that anything bad happens. The wave catchs me but I float, reaching the top of the wave that vanishes after a while or I just wake up. Or sometimes I am inside a building and the water hits the window, but I am safe inside. Nothing bad happens, I never drown. It's just water in a great proportion.
Mister Freud would say its is my desire of being amazed with great proportions of male attention (to not say other thing..) or I am in my fertil period or something like that. But I think it must be something else. Which I really don't know.

Then there are these more common dreams, where I am running away from something. It can be men with guns willing to kill me, or monkeys throwing stones. I can be in a typical favela from Rio or in a garage hiding between cars. They always know where I am hiding, its frustrating and scary, not matter how far I go, they always find me. But of couse, then I wake up. I never die, they never touch me.
About this last one I could say it's the normal fear of being persecuted and killed. But in my normal real life I am not affraid of that. I don't feel threatened by anyone. And still, why am I running away from monkeys or running down a hill in Rio? Too much movies, I guess.

But the most interesting one is the one I am going to talk about now:
I dreamed that I was giving birth. Okay, dont say anything yet, Mister Freud, because it is a bit more strange than the simple desire of having babies or, again, being amazed with great proportions of male attention.
The interesting/scary thing was that I was expecting to have pain and I dind't have. And why not? Because I was expecting to give birth to a normal baby but he came out in a second and so I thought: "Hum, he must be really tiny". And the baby was, actually, really tiny, but with a face of a grown up child. The nurse, or whatever she was, presented me to my new born baby and despite his unnormal look I was streching my arms to hug him. But this crazy baby, tiny as an hamster and with a face of a five years old child gave me a reproachful gaze with his big eyes opened. And I thought: "Okay, boy, with that attitude he should go straigh to the nursery without having to please me". And so he went.
I've never seen the boy again. I know I was very worried about his condition because he was so tiny but at the same time he was represeting a problem I didn't really want to deal with. So I left him there, at the nursery, dealing with his own issues without visits. ("yeah, boy, who do you think you are?").
But the sweetest thing was... I gave him a name. His name was Henry. WHAT? HENRY? Yes, Henry, exactly like that.. an english name. Henry. And I was worried about him but I was much more worried about his father whom I was still waiting to share the 'problem' with me. He was a problem, basicly. And the father, also, who never came.
And then I remember having a friend exactly in the same situation. And I remember asking her to go and see my boy while she was going to see hers. But after asking this, I asked her "But were you pregnant, too?! WHY? How? I didn't notice it!". And there was my friend with a big belly (already after giving birth and still with a big belly, don't know why..) saying something like: Yes, I actually saw Henry the other day, he was alive!". And I felt relieved.
Okay, I woke up... And I felt even more relieved because that was just a dream. But it was a dream that I am going to remember for the rest of my life. Probably it would undergo several changes though, because we never really know what we were dreaming about and we creat and recreat everything until the point we lose its basic essence. So, to avoid that, I am recording this here.
Henry, the baby. My problem. The problem I am still trying to solve in my mind. Who are you, bastard?