Nonchalant Write Ups

Recounts of dreams, thoughts, and desires, from the Queens bedroom with a single window, and a loft bed.

[lawawadepan]

Puertas

Last night I dreamt with doors again. And I saw Liam in my dream. He told me which way to go but when I went looking for the door, I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t remember which one I had gone through. 

But doors were semi-open on the way, and there were stairs. Stairs that were confusing. I think some took me somewhere whereas others just seemed to be that, stairs, with no functionality. I was embarrassed to admit I was lost. 

Coming back out on the field, I heard someone yelling my name. It was Paul. When i turned to see him, all of a sudden I remembered where I had come from; the door I had opened, and the way to get to it. 

These doors showed me spaces. Spaces nothing like my own, but like the ones in my dreams and desires. 

The semi-open doors, invited me. 

[lawawadepan]

Only Felix Knows

My cat. He’s the only who really knows what’s up. For real.

He’s laying right next to me now. Wanted me to stroke him, looking for my eyes. Can he tell? He can tell when I’m down.

I’m at my mom’s. Came to sleep here tonight. Ivonne and Patricio visited dad today. I arrived when they were still here. Ivonne had called my mom the other day inquiring about dad, saying she usually runs into him at the bus stop and that she had noticed it had been a while since she saw him last. So she was wondering if he was still here or had gone back home. Mom told her about dad being in the hospital for a few days. She was so surprised.

They brought dad plenty of food and spent the afternoon with him. Before leaving, they prayed with all of us, asked God to bring our home peace, health and happiness. I don’t know if there’s a God, but they asked so fervently, with such honesty that I thought, how could God not hear these prayers? How could he not give them what they ask for? My eyes welled up in tears hearing Patricio’s voice. Feeling his good energy. I thought, we’ve been so sad lately. How can we shake this off?

Only Felix knows what is really up. He places his paw on my leg as I type and start to sniffle from the tears rolling down my cheeks. He’s not afraid to come close, to check up on me. He knows what’s up. He’s like “it’s okay, I’m here. Cry it out”.

[lawawadepan]

Sleep Paralysis

Last night I was up till 4 AM writing like a maniac; woke up three hours later before my alarm went off (oddly enough, since for the past month or so, I have been waking up so late that I’ve come to think perhaps sleeping is my life’s purpose.) 

Because I did not want to go back to sleep, I indulged in some postponed reading material. Within the hour, I started to drift into a slumber. I laid back down and gave myself in. And before I knew, I was dreaming:

Same pajamas, same bed, same walls, same window. It was me, and I was fighting sleep. Sleep paralyzed, I tossed and turned but couldn’t manage to wake myself up. I felt pressure weighing on my head. My efforts useless, my muscles stiff. Like Leonardo DiCaprio on “Wolf of Wall Street”, when high on lemmon crawled out his house and into his Lamborghini, I crept out my window to grasp some air. Perhaps that’d snap me out of it. Barely holding onto the frame, I stuck my head out and unstuck my eyes open. I saw blur. My vision shifting, and spotted dirt on the floor. I almost fell off too and wanted to call my housemate for help. She was next door. But I was too embarrassed to do it.

Awake! I went back in my room, stepped back from the window and stared at it for a few seconds, recovering. The frame was lower than usual and right below it was a pot with a plant that had lost its leaves. It stood there, bare and thin, like the winter trees. 

I must have come out of my room when I saw this acquaintance go into a room diagonal to mine. She was wearing a smock. She grabbed something quickly and came back out. We walked a long hallway and ran into a small loft bed. It looked like a kid’s bed. She thought it was mine and complimented me on it. I said I hadn’t built it, and had the urge to show her my room but right at that moment, someone else came into my view. It was a blonde woman who started talking over me. She was wearing red lipstick and had short curls. I stepped aside and let them talk, and soon I saw a toy wagon hanging from the ceiling. And hooked to it were the ends of a broken ab roller.

There was a large room at the end of the hallway. Suddenly, my other housemates came into view. I got to the large room but turned back around when I saw spilled spaghetti and crumbs of some sort on the floor. I told my housemate it’s time she teaches her son to clean after himself, while the other housemate reiterated. Making my way back down the hallway toward my room, I saw more and more spilled food. It looked like throw-up. My housemate walked behind me, rushing to clean up, with her ever-present nonchalant demeanor. But soon she was coughing up a storm and stopped on her tracks. It got so intense that she fell on her knees and grabbed her stomach. Her body tensing up, she puked far and wide. I held her forehead. And I woke up. What does this mean?!