mama and papa visit me in dreams and we talk about the things we never discuss in life, and, for some unknown reason i wonder why i hide and try to suppress the fact that i will die.
in my new room my dreams are crystal clear but i have no fear of spirits that loiter near my soul. sometimes in visions i see myself in bed in a room all white, safe and sound, mama at my side. i never recall what we say but often i run away. i run with all my might but mama is constant at my side.
in other dreams papa and i talk man to man but it makes me cry when i hear the song by elton john about the things unsaid between fathers and sons.
one day, papa said: now i know why animals eat their young.” it made me think of the painting by goya–grotesque in its depiction–of saturn eating his children. parents and children and dreams gone wrong. a wounded beast i live in exile.
alive today for which i give thanks. so far from mama and papa but i am a man. when night falls and dreams and spirits come i pray my heart will continue to beat till morning’s sun.
sometimes my heart beats faint and i cannot find my pulse. then a feeling comes over me like i will drown. i reach for air and open my lungs