“I'm going to make another song
Singing that I'm better now
I will look for another place and
Something new to dream about.”
Tobogán Andaluz - I always dream about the same things
You know that I never remember the dreams I have when I sleep. Today I have to write to you, because it was different. The cork that you had to pull out of the bottle using your teeth, the same one I always have in my purse, was lost. I went looking for it in desperation and then I found you knotting a string so that it would now be a necklace, with the cork hanging down. I found you in that one, with your hands so lovingly occupied in what you were doing, that you didn't even notice my presence behind. I stopped to watch the patience of your fingers to get the thin thread through a ring closed enough to complicate it. Tobogán Andaluz was playing at the back of the room and you had a glass of water next to you. I began to remember things in the dream that, come to think of it, we never lived. Strange, unreal places. People next to us that I never saw. When I took a breath of air and the fright passed, you noticed my presence and turned to me. In your face there was no face, there was nothing. I know it sounds absurd but in the dream I didn't notice it, it seemed natural to me. I felt your smile inside me, caressing my soul and I could also observe your eyes behind mine. You stood up a little to bring me closer to you, taking my waist but without placing your hands on it. I slid down without lifting my feet and sat next to you. When I wanted to kiss your cheek, my lips rested on the air without touching you, and your taste ran from head to toe. I was filled with you but you were no more, the cork suddenly fell without the cord inside and when I wanted to pick it up it vanished between my fingers, like water. I looked into my chest and that cork with the mark of your teeth was occupying the place where the heart should be. My skin, translucent, let you see how the cork throbbed and pumped blood that ran to every part of my body. I lowered my head a little and the sound of the cork's throbbing slowly rose. Then I woke up. I looked for you, and for the cork, but they were not there. Will you continue to do the same with the others? Answer that, please.
Photography by asketoner
I write and listen to too much music to feel that this is real and that it happens to others. My work is influenced by all that music, soccer, the drugs others take, how badly I relate to others, how often I make mistakes and what I would like to change.
I also draw and that complements my literary work.
I have collaborated in many digital magazines, a fanzine and a book.