Every now and then I have twisted dreams. One of the most horrifying I have had was some months ago. I dreamt I had a majá (a Cuban species of serpent) tangled around my left leg. The dream took place in Cuba. The tail started in the superior part of the thigh and the head was closer to the foot. I felt it was squeezing it, almost a sense of immobility. I went out to ask people how I could take that thing away from my leg, and, surprisingly, I got the same answer all the time: “I don´t know, I have never been able to take mine away”. Every time I lowered my pants and looked at it, the majá looked back at me like threatening. Then I woke up. I felt immensely happy, because it was really a suffocating dream. I went downstairs and took a ride all over the house, still thinking about what I had just dreamt of. I went upstairs and lied on bed again. Amazingly I took the dream just where I left it. As if I had just pressed a pause to it. Someone called me on my phone to let me know I was already “authorized” to take the majá off my leg. But it kept just there, staring at me and I was afraid if I tried to take it off it could bite me or squeeze it more. I kept on asking I had the same answer. I woke up again, I guess because I was longing for it so much. I went downstairs and this time I made coffee. It was almost six a.m. I had a cup and, just sure I was not going to fall asleep again, I went to bed to watch the morning news. I just fell asleep once again and the dream was there, like a paused film. That reptile was still tangled around my leg. Got another phone call. They would send someone “qualified” (that was the word, I can remember it) to remove the majá off my leg. Finally that person arrived and, I don´t know how, disentangled it from my leg and put it in a cage. I was relieved, although when I took a look at my leg I felt nauseous. There was a horrible mark printed there and it had a wide range of colors going from green, yellow to purple. The man just placed all his instruments in a case and told me: we will call you when it is time to put it back again. And I woke up again.
I am not going to try to give a coherent interpretation to my dream. I am not interested. When I told some friends, they tried to establish some relation with the trauma of having lived in Cuba. But the point is that my dreams are not that metaphorical. Before that I had dreamt that I visited the Island and they did not let me come back in the airport. And Yanelys, my friend Osvaldito´s wife, told me she had dreamt that, being visiting in Cuba, she was forced to work in farming, like an orchard or something like that, and people from the neighborhood, especially the gossiper old women (or chivatas, as she says), the one in charge of the CDR (Committee for the Defense of the Revolution) and every kind of envious people, were walking by to make fun of her. She woke up frightened. And so, many friends of mine have told me weird dreams but the ones that have to do with Cuba always get my attention, because it is as if, psychologically, it does not matter how many miles away we are from the Island, it chases us like a ghost. I do not dream of Cuba every night, but in my dreams there is always a person from Cuba. During the days of the World Baseball Classic, I even dreamt that Cuba was losing. Every time I went to bed and next day Cuba was playing, I dreamt that the team was losing or someone called me to tell me it had lost. At the end it did lose, but about that defeat I could write in some other article. What I am worried here about is that I keep on having twisted dreams. And the dreams I am told everyday by my friends have to do with Cuba, with the blessed circumstance of having been born and lived in Cuba all those years, with pain, suffering, happiness, people, smells and stenches, all that come afloat in the dreams of those who live far from Cuba. Or at least in mine. Or at least in the dreams of those around me.
I am not going to try to give a coherent interpretation to my dream. I am not interested. When I told some friends, they tried to establish some relation with the trauma of having lived in Cuba. But the point is that my dreams are not that metaphorical. Before that I had dreamt that I visited the Island and they did not let me come back in the airport. And Yanelys, my friend Osvaldito´s wife, told me she had dreamt that, being visiting in Cuba, she was forced to work in farming, like an orchard or something like that, and people from the neighborhood, especially the gossiper old women (or chivatas, as she says), the one in charge of the CDR (Committee for the Defense of the Revolution) and every kind of envious people, were walking by to make fun of her. She woke up frightened. And so, many friends of mine have told me weird dreams but the ones that have to do with Cuba always get my attention, because it is as if, psychologically, it does not matter how many miles away we are from the Island, it chases us like a ghost. I do not dream of Cuba every night, but in my dreams there is always a person from Cuba. During the days of the World Baseball Classic, I even dreamt that Cuba was losing. Every time I went to bed and next day Cuba was playing, I dreamt that the team was losing or someone called me to tell me it had lost. At the end it did lose, but about that defeat I could write in some other article. What I am worried here about is that I keep on having twisted dreams. And the dreams I am told everyday by my friends have to do with Cuba, with the blessed circumstance of having been born and lived in Cuba all those years, with pain, suffering, happiness, people, smells and stenches, all that come afloat in the dreams of those who live far from Cuba. Or at least in mine. Or at least in the dreams of those around me.
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