I Had A Dream

It´s 4:30 A.M.

The night of summer solstice. 

I just woke up, it´s right before the dawn. 

Something interesting just happened to me. I had a dream. Or was it? Immediately I realize a floating awareness around me of dream memory. 

I feel as if I have lived through the same scene before. 

I get suspicious. That´s what suppressed memories do when they start resurfacing. 

I lived through this before. 

In the dream I am eighteen or perhaps nineteen. It is the last year of high school. I live through an all-night party, a teenage orgy they threw at the end of the school year. It would have been summer, like now, late June. 

There is booze and there is dope. I see dim lighting, and in several rooms, teens are making out. Perhaps most interestingly, all of this takes place in an apartment that belongs to a family friend of ours. 

Mister L. and his young wife are known to be libertine, so that´s why they would let us do it at their place. 

L.´s wife is not present at the party, even though she had agreed to it. 

He, on the other hand, is there, with us. He is a man in his mid- thirties, roughly fifteen years older than all of us. I think I had seen him masturbate in the dark recesses of one of the rooms. There is an understanding among all of us that he is supposed to watch and not to touch. And since we have no other place to do this and we are horny, we do not mind. We are grateful for the opportunity. 

At around 2 A.M. the party is going at full steam. Some of us, the more experienced and more unrestrained, we get into full nudity and actual sex. I am one of them. I have been an early blooming flower, since I lost my virginity at fifteen. In the 2 A.M. scene I perceive myself on the right side of a bed that is at least queen size, perhaps bigger, with curtains. There is a blond girl next to me, and somebody, likely a boy, nearby. I am more intimate with the girl. We are still at that age when boys feel clumsy, they won´t go for the kill in a confident way. 

There is a climax of sorts. One. Then another one. 

I am in an altered state of consciousness and beginning to feel tired. So when Mr. L., who has been observing us the whole time, offers to take us upstairs and show us where to sleep, I take his hand eagerly. He walks me upstairs by the hand on a winding staircase covered with mushy carpets, I can feel it on my feet. I am still fully naked. When we get into the master bedroom, things take on a different turn. Now he is undressed, and I am too high. I am too high to raise any objection. 

We have sex.

It is short and to the point and we both get off on it. 

Maybe that is the moment in the dream when I recall with a pinch of conscience that we broke the rules, that he was there supposed to watch and not to touch. Maybe I added it later and there was no pinch when I realized it. Anyhow, I deal with it by drifting off to sleep.

The emotional breakpoint of the story and the reason I would have suppressed it lies in the aftermath of the situation. 

One of my classmates, the blond girl who caressed me and who saw me leave with Mr. L., launches a conspiracy of gossip that casts judgment over me. I am not afraid it would get to the adults, because it won´t. Rather, I fear for my standing in the class. I broke the rules, and the pack went after blood. It´s an execution, televised. 

Never mind that I was barely conscious. The adult self intercedes into the dialogue with the teenage self. He was taking advantage of me. Though I can´t say that I didn´t like it. It is what I always wanted. The boys were just so lame. Maybe that is where my real sin was found.  We are a Catholic chartered school in fact. We are not supposed to do it. And yet we do. In order to absolve us of sin, we need a sacrifice of blood. And I provided it. I was designated as the sacrificial goat. Everybody felt so guilty. Not only did we break the rule of God, we broke the only rule required from us by our gracious host. At that time, we had no capacity to judge it any different. At the moment it also made perfect sense to me that he would be so kind as to show me a place where to sleep. I was naïve. Even though he has just watched me orgasm so I´d walk from there fully naked. I was naïve, just trusting. I haven´t yet learnt about the world. It was still waiting to be discovered and this was one rite of passage into adulthood, one that we all craved.

But somebody saw it and made a big deal out of it. Kids are cruel. They also have the ability to deflect blame and the guilt because being kids they don´t yet live by their own rules. They need to conform to the expectations of the society and the adults. 

There is an “after” scene a few weeks later when school has closed. 

In it, everybody is fully clothed. It is a social scene downstairs in the front hall of the same apartment. I am there with my parents, Mr. L., and some other people. We stand by the shoe cabinet and the adults are conversing. 

I realize how tall everybody seems to be around me. It makes it easier for me to stare down, so as not to draw any attention to me. I feel so bad.  I felt like this my whole childhood. But this comes easy. All I have to do is remain quiet and let them go about their business. They will exhaust the niceties soon and we will go. I am glad that there is no need to look L. eye to eye. His wife is standing right behind him.

I get up and I turn on the lights. I deliberate for a full hour as I write this down in my diary.  

Could this have been a real life memory?

Could this be there reason why when I met him at twenty-eight when we randomly bumped into each other at a business event, he smiled and waved all over the hall on me? I barely recognized him, but he was all over me, bursting with familiar feelings, some of which I sensed shouldn´t have been there. I just couldn´t put my finger on it. 

Or maybe the dream just informed me that the way you see your friends´ teenage daughter is very different from the way he sees you and nothing ever happened for real. I would have just picked up from the environment he was lusting after me. 

In real life I recall his apartment to be slightly different, in a different neighborhood. Though maybe that´s where they would have moved years later when they had kids. Maybe it was more of a rental property, or just some place they had in custody. 

Then again, maybe it never existed.

False Pretenses

The man sitting across me frowns with a sense of genuine dissatisfaction.

“It looks like I came here under false pretenses. I thought I would be the only one making you lewd proposals. Now, if your photos have been on the Internet, you must be getting a lot of those.” 

He then moved his glass on the table a little closer to mine. I was about to assure him that I will consider his lewd proposal, when I realized that the whole situation reminded me of something. I too, once went on a date under false pretenses.

Years ago, I met a guy at a party and he was instantly into me. We flirted, he paid for all my drinks and even hailed a cab to get me home safely. Since he was on organizer´s duty on that particular event, he could not excuse himself so he promised to meet me the next day. 

So the next day, as soon as we could get up we snuck into a cafe. As soon as he sat across the table from me, I noticed something was off about him. He was grinning, a grimace of dissatisfaction ruining his pretty face. I thought that maybe he had a girlfriend all along, and now, sober in broad daylight, his conscience got the best of him. 

He said nothing of it, just remarked that he´d remembered me differently, maybe it was the light. I casually remarked that I had poor eyesight in the dark, that I actually liked him better now. Our conversation flowed from there on pretty smoothly. He was still interested in me, and suggested we meet again in the club, after dark. Still, there was this feeling that something is off, that I couldn´t properly account for. 

My doubts remained unanswered until Monday when I casually remarked on my plight to a young client who came to my office. The man in question turned out to be a mutual acquaintance. When I told her about the surprised grimace, she covered her mouth in awe, and uttered, 

“Don´t you know?” 

“Know what? What am I supposed to know about him that escaped me?” 

“It was the glasses!” 


“The glasses!” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He has a huge fetish for glasses. The school teacher look. You have it. You must´ve taken them off later!” 

I realized that indeed, I was wearing glasses on the night but not in the morning. I´ve heard about fetishes and costumes, I just never knew it had such power to create false pretenses.

The Books You Keep

 I came up to your library and asked what is your Bible

Which of the books that you keep would be the one

You know the Art of War by heart so that must be it

You live to keep up the fight


I found you a book by similar name

I brought you the Art of Love

You said you had no place for it

Not in it this age and time


I left it with you anyway

I know you would keep it in your closet

For anyone who comes here after us

But since we know that nobody is coming 

You will keep

It there

For us

To Hell and Back

I would go to hell and back

With you

I said I would go to hell and back with you 

And so you let me know

That is where we are

About to go 


I would go to hell and back

For you 

I said that I would go to hell and back for you 

And now I know

That is where I need to go

Because that is where you are found 


You said

This world is a dark dark place 

You said

That most people have no idea

What the world is about

You said

That the end is coming

So how do you go from that place 

Into the light?


Only by the grace of god 

The god you know nothing of

Only by the grace of god

Who has betrayed you

Only by the grace of god 

The same god who said 

Blessed are the ignorant 

Blessed are the meek 

And the stupid

Most of all


In moments of darkness 

You pray to the god that is not there

That he makes his absence more visible 

You don’t like it

For the fallen to hold onto false hopes

The faith of the fallen 

There is no glory in defeat 

I Was Happy

I was happy three times this year.


The first time it was with you

When you asked me to get married

I was happy for three days in a row I was ecstatic

Before I realized it´s just a plot to keep me

And that nothing will ever change


The second time I was happy

When you whom I had long wished to come back

You came back and you gave your all

But too much time had passed

I guess it just came too late


For the third time I was happy

When you showed up when least expected

Because I always wanted to get close to you

They say three time´s a charm

There was that magic

I was happy


I still am happy though I am writing in past tense

One day past tense is all we shall have

You said we are headed towards death

That a man´s life is all about duty

With happiness an occasional by-product

Well I am doing my part here

In putting this on paper

Writing has been my duty all along

I’m not going to deny it

I was happy when I was writing

I was happy when I was still writing

So maybe you had a point


I was happy when I was writing

Even though life was rough

The numbers in the love equation don´t add up

But people keep asking for the stories

And that brings hope to my life because

If you live to tell the tale

Then anything that happens is alright

There´s no need to judge it

Just type it


So I was happy when you scorned me

I was happy when you built me up

I was happy

Because I was writing

I had a hell of a thing to write about