agosto 24, 2008
Still but restless
Two nights ago, I dreamt of a quiet country house. Its high-roofed rooms were filled with sunlight and beautiful white furniture. I cruised the place at slow pace, breathing the cold perfume of the midday forest leaves as the wind poured in through the half-open main door.
Suddenly, the door was gently pushed open and you walked in.
The wooden floor squeaked as you took your steps across the hall, dressed in red (that's something you do, I don't think I've seen you wearing another color).
When you stopped walking not a word came out of you; you simply stood there, still but restless in your red t-shirt, reaching out with your gaze from across the hall with eyes that kept getting bigger by the second.
Then you smiled and said something that I can’t remember. All I know is that, for a reason I ignore, you spoke to me in English. You were mortified.
Before I could say anything that could comfort you, the door shut itself closed and I woke up.
I sometimes dream of people in places and situations that end up being/becoming true.
Thought I’d ask you what’s stirring you, and let you know I’m here for you.
Thought I’d tell you in English, just in case.