The Dream
The night before had been somehow difficult to finish for me. I watched
an episode of those shows in which the wife discovers that her husband
is cheating on her. I laughed when I saw the woman smashing her
husband’s briefcase on the floor. “I would never do that,” I thought.
After the episode finished, I went to sleep, by myself. Ted was not
here. He had a meeting that was supposed to last until eleven pm. He
came back around one or two in the morning; he said “Hey, bubbly!” and I
answered something. Then he told me that he had been with another woman
and I said, “Fine, you loose.” It was the old joke again. We had talked
about it several times; we had agreed that in a case of cheating, I was
going to laugh at him in court. That I was going to clean his pockets
without a note on the local newspapers. I dreamed about an alley at
night, full of white cats looking at me. An alley with cobbler stone and
hundred-year-old brick buildings, like the ones in the old Richmond.
Most of those cats had long hair and shining collars. Suddenly, one of
them came to me, and then all the others followed. They saw me with
their round eyes and begged me for food probably. Then they started to
lick my feet, and I saw my feet and my legs naked. I did not want to
kick them, because I did not want to be accused of maltreatment of
animals. But their tongues were wet Velcro, and I was afraid they had
been inside the seafood restaurant’s trash container. I never dream
smells, but in that alley the smell was rotten fish, cheap American
beer, and rancid frying oil. I woke up with the smell in my nostrils,
but after ten seconds or so I was ok. Ted was asleep, belly down, his
arms open like he was flying, his face on my right ear, snoring like he
had to knock down a the brick buildings with his exhalation. He
stopped snoring after I touched the tip of his nose. He rolled over the
other side. I went back to sleep. Another dream about animals. In
this one I was in the same old Richmond alley, but I killed crickets
every time I took a step. Woke up. Went back to sleep. Big wasps and
gigantic doves were flying around me. It was the same place that now
had grown succulent plants, like a Mayan jungle. I saw the buildings
behind the plants that smell like baked beans, and next to them was a
puddle of American beer, but the expensive thick and dark one. Then I
was in the ocean. The brick walls were not there anymore. The water was
up to my chest. I walked towards the shoreline in slow motion so that I
would not disturb the dozens of jellyfish that were near me. I don’t
remember a transition between the beach and our apartment in Virginia
Beach. We have not visited that place since the summer. But I opened
the door and there he was, my husband with another woman, both wearing
minuscule, blue and red bathing suits. Nobody was surprised. I smiled
with pride, “Hey, I will finally go around the world with his grandma
inheritance,” I told myself. The girl was a younger version of my
mother, but with blue eyes. A short, round hips, slightly tanned,
skinny girl. She saw me, and she talked to me like I was a guest in her
house, as if she was Ted’s wife and I was his sister. We all sat down
and had green tea and Mexican sweet bread, something my mother would
do. Then she told me that she is taking the dog to the veterinarian for
a check up. I interrupted her, “Are you related to Maricela Soto? She
is from Las Cruces. Are you from Las Cruces, New Mexico?” She said
that she’s from New York. “Then, you’re not related to my mother,” I
said. Her face changed. It wasn’t like my mother’s anymore. Her hair
looked shorter, spiked by Aquanet, nineteen-eighties style. We went to
kitchen and she picked up our dog. It was Momo our German shepherd, but
he did not recognize me. Ted was in the living room, fixing his rifle
and other hunting gear. I said good-bye, thinking that they had a very
good relationship, better than his parents and my parents, better than
our own. “They won’t care too much about loosing a million or two,” I
told myself. “They have too much love to miss half of Ted’s money.” And
I walked to the beach again. That’s when I woke up and looked at the
clock. It read 5:58. I had less than two minutes to recap the dream
before getting up and taking a shower. Ted was not in bed. I got up
and looked around the house. He had not slept at home. I called every
number and sent e-mails to all of his addresses. Nobody knew where he
was. His secretary said that he had left at nine or so the night
before. I did not call anybody else; I took the car and drove the two
hours from Richmond to Virginia Beach. I listened to the radio to
forget about my dreams, but the idea of cheating was there bouncing in
my brain. I prayed. I sang out loud. I prayed. Once in front of the
apartment, I saw the neighbor, a short, blue-eyed girl. She was talking
to me about her dog when I opened the door. And she saw me screaming.
No, I did not scream or cried like they do on TV, and that’s probably
why you say it is suspicious. I started thinking about my trip around
the world. And I’ll keep doing it. That’s my sedative. I know that
there is no point worrying about a dead, cheating husband.
Sunday, March 25, 2007