[continued from previous entry]
And in the middle of so much happening these last couple of weeks, a strange, morbid thread has run through much of it. Beginning with the suicide mentioned two or three entries back, followed out of the blue by a one-line email from my brother, the only remaining member of my biological family unit. Never writes, never calls. Two or three Christmases ago, I tried making contact various times, received no reply, gave up and accepted the silence. A week ago, out of the blue, he forwards an email he received from the wife of someone I once worked with in which she mentions that her husband caught a ride in the final taxi a few years back.
Next day: the political assassination in the Basque country, causing a countrywide uproar here.
Last night: after a mighty unattractive show of wee-hour drunken misbehavior here in the barrio by crowds of shitfaced 20-somethings -- the kind of mischief that creates a whole lot of sleep-destroying racket and results in police eventually appearing to break it up -- I finally sink into restless sleep as the sky is getting light. And eventually find myself in a dream with my brother, taking place somewhere I've never been in waking life, though in the dream it was supposed to be the area bro lives in, a place I spent lots and lots of time in years past. A vivid, clear dream, the kind that feels more real as it goes on, so real that the experience feels natural, comfortable, complete, despite aspects that would make no sense at all in waking life. The dream moves along until I'm in an urban area with bro, crossing a wide boulevard -- four lanes across, two in each direction. Bro and I were talking about something as we began to cross, I don't remember what. He was ahead of me, sprinting toward the other side, my focus was on moving vehicles as I ran, not on him, so that when I heard the sound of him running into a moving car -- the sound clear and vivid enough that I could just about feel the impact myself -- it caught me by surprise. My head turned, I saw his body fall back and hit the pavement, remaining perfectly still once down. I felt my heart pounding in my chest, the tuggings of the urge to vomit that can come with shock, my legs taking me at full speed to his side, my vision veering back and forth between his motionless body and approaching traffic. The oncoming vehicles showed no sign of slowing down, I positioned myself between them and my brother, arms waving in a desperate effort to get them to stop.
And came to consciousness, my head jerking up from the pillow. Mouth dry, heart pumping. Feeling like I'd experienced something that verged on real-life real. Lay still for a minute, trying to shake the grip of the dream, finally got that the only way to get loose of it was to get up, get moving, immerse myself in this life here, in the waking moment unfolding around me in this flat in this city on this continent on this planet Earth.
Did that. Showered, pulled on clothes, hurried out into a beautiful morning, sunshine pouring down from a pure blue sky, a cool early spring breeze blowing. Feet took me down the street, lungs pulled in air. A Saturday morning in March slowly took form, life going on all around.
One espresso and one croissant later, I stumbled into the door of my piso, cranked my long-suffering laptop, and as I waited for it to come to life my eyes fixed on a 3" x 3" square of paper that's been languishing on the table by my keyboard, an advertising handbill that can be found all over Madrid. A super-sincere ad from PROFESSOR SADOI, Auténtico Vidente Africano (Authentic African Medium -- results rapid and effective, 100% guaranteed) assuring me that NO HAY PROBLEMA SIN SOLUCIÓN -- there is no problem without a solution. Which is a lovely thought, one I think may actually be true (though sadly, not one likely to bring the Professor any business from me).
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Twilight, mid-March, Madrid:
España, te quiero
rws 9:51 AM [+]
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