Some time ago Kathryn suggested I change the name of the blog since I no longer reside in the jungle. I put this notion under heavy consideration, analyzing all the factors involved in the decision. Yes, I no longer live in the middle of a tropical rainforest, so I could do the change. But.. does it matter? This blog has less than 200 followers at this moment, it never helped me to sell any books that I know of, and it mostly worked as a pressure valve for me to vent when things got really bad in the jungle I was living in. As you may have noticed, the posts are now far in between each other (the last one was about three months ago).
But there will be always post related to my past in the rainforest; I don’t think that a man can live through such a traumatic lifestyle, rife with deprivation and uncertainty for almost 17 years and yet be able to escape unscathed by the experience, so I guess this option outlet must remain open for a little longer. So no changes in the foreseeable future, okay?
One fine example of this is that I’m not sleeping well of late, for I’m having a recurrent nightmare that haunts me these days. In this particular dream I’m back in the outskirts of Caucagua, forced by some unseen power to walk through that accursed town’s winding streets once more. In this dream, I have the strong sensation that I must perform some task, but I’m completely clueless about it.
The start of the dream is not that bad, but quite dreadful; I’m alone in the lonesome gravel roads of Cholondron. Doesn’t sound like much but since way of how this dream will progress is quite familiar to me, I’m already filled with trepidation.
After a while, I enter the town of Caucagua proper, finally seeing the first shacks that mark the edge of this location. I see three local men leaning against the wall of a rancho (my country’s version of a shack made out with metal sheet and whatever building materials the can get their hand on). They’re glaring at me, and I walk past them, doing my best to ignore their threatening looks.
Of course, this doesn’t work at all; a few blocks ahead I meet another similar group… and I notice that the first group of menacing men have been following me all along. You must realize that there are basically two types of dreams; those that you know are having a dream and in which you have a certain level of control, meaning that you may decide to flee or face your fear, therefore changing its outcome. This one is the other kind of dream, in which you can’t alter its flow, no matter what you do. I tried once to outsmart it by confronting these individuals, but that action only accelerated its denouement.
I keep moving through Caucagua’s streets, getting deeper and deeper into its mazelike structure. In every corner I meet another small group of angry men, which are then added to the increasingly larger party of people already pursuing me, which by now is a massive throng. The faces of these guys are full of hatred, an anger directed at me because I never fit this place too well: I’m too different and smart for that.
I’m able to make it back to main street, but this location suddenly becomes a dead end when I meet a brick wall that oughtn’t to be there. It seems it has sprung out of nowhere, blocking my escape. Then I turn around and then I find out I’m surrounded by at least a thousand pursuers. I’m with my back against the wall, and the group slowly closes in around me. Remember Michael Jackson’s Thriller final sequence? My dream is more or less like that.
One of these individuals draws out a sharp switchblade from his pockets. It’s then when I wake up, feeling exhausted and restless, usually at 3 AM in the morning. To top it all, it’s very rare the occasion when I’m able to go back to sleep after such an experience. That’s a nasty way to start a day, folks.
It’s quite fortunate, however, that these days I only have to scoot closer in bed to where my wife is laying next to me to convince myself that this horrible dream is no longer my reality. Kathryn is quite aware of these nightmares; she tells me that I talk loudly in Spanish while I have to live them almost every night.
At this moment I’m more or less writing this post to exorcise my demons (some one, two three! calisthenics and then a few laps around the track… Ooops…. wrong way to exorcise them)…. I hope it works, because all this is whacking my sleep cycle back to the one I had about a couple years back… which isn’t kinda nice…
Well, that’s about it for now, folks