The Sandwiches and the House of Secret Rooms

I digress in a dream: I am in the backseat of a car, sitting on the floor where feet go. Some people are sitting in the front and a female is next to me.

While I talk to them about trivial things, I pee in my pants, discreetly. I believe their attention should be elsewhere, far from me, when they give me an objective like participation.

I get up from the floor of the backseat and discreetly peek to see if I left a halo mark on the carpet. I assume that if I can see a mark, then the others can, too, but since I don’t see or smell anything, I assume it has gone unnoticed.

They are about to give us a white BMW to drive.

I am in a city. It is strange, I suspect it should be a familiar place but I do not

recognize anything, I am lost and I lead a group of people. We should find a place to eat sandwiches, those unique Mexican tortas. However, I am not sure where to go.

I vaguely remember a torteria where they sell really good and inexpensive tortas, but I hesitate between two streets and honestly, I cannot find it.

I walk into a café and ask about a small food truck kind of thing, describing it as a sort of counter, where they make and serve tortas. It seems the place no longer exists. The area was gentrified now the local commerce is for Hipsters, similar to this one.

Perhaps they won’t mind going to a different restaurant, I say to myself.

I know they like Japanese food, but if I ask the man, I think he might prefer something else. After looking at all the options, we finally put in an order of three tortas: two of the same kind, with beans, onion, a lot of lettuce but little

cucumber, so it doesn’t slip out of the sandwich.

One is for me and the other is for the girl with me.

The third torta is special: it has ham, cheese, and a fried egg. Right there, in front of us, the helper starts beating eggs in a bowl. Confidently, I tell him that I don’t want scrambled eggs; the description clearly states that the egg is not scrambled, it is fried in order to give it the right texture.

Lastly I remember, a tall, thin, nice- looking man. He wears his hair in a bowl- cut like Moe’s in The Three Stooges or Iggy Pop’s when he was young.

It is a self-created character.

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In next part, we took large steps because there was no gravity. I handed something to someone and felt like it was the moment

to escape. I have a tendency to hide myself in order to escape. I am not alone. I am encouraging another character to escape by jumping out the window and climbing onto the roof.

One house connects to another. The mayor and his wife are going to move out and my mother and I went to visit the house. As we looked around the all the rooms, I remember planning out how we would arrange our things there. We decided to settle for this house. In order for us to have it, the mayor must start moving out.

Events happen simultaneously anywhere and everywhere. That, for one, was the first event. In the second event, I find myself at a ski resort in front of the ski lifts. There are two ski lifts because one doesn’t work.

Everyone knows that the ski lift of "Los Tontos" ski field in Farellones doesn’t, and has never worked. They remodeled it but for reasons beyond my understanding, it still doesn’t work. This circumstance forces us to the other side, where we must

dare to take the first step, like one does in the face of new situations, even if they are abstract.

The mayor is slightly corrupt and his wife may not actually be legally wedded to him.

I just remember a dead rat next to a live rat, even though it didn’t look like a rat. I don’t know why they are called “rats” if what they killed is a bird with feathers. In other words, there is a “trapped rat” here. I am suspicious.

The mayor and his wife will have control over the house but we will have control over their position. We discreetly surveyed the rooms, which enables us to take the house, sooner or later.

– “This is the reading room,” I heard, even though it looks like an office to me; not just one, but two, one for each person. After passing the reading room there is another space that is farther away and open. Perhaps it is part of a different house. Perhaps it is part of ours. I think my friend [person A] is there. I

notice she seems rather clumsy.

On the one hand, there is stupidity, and on the other, there is audacity. At least that’s what I think.

Secondly, since we are the ones moving into the house that belonged to the mayor, we must move the elders out and put ourselves in his place.

Infinite details occur simultaneously but I have a strange intuition that is coming from the past. This notion comes on a level of understanding, and not of imagery. The things I don’t remember outweigh the things I do.

It is only a matter of time before we can successfully displace the couple. The mayor and his wife must leave and we must take their place. I would prefer it to be discreet and non-violent. They must leave before we move into that house.

There are a number of secret places. I take a checkbook and hand it to her, pressuring her to leave. The moment to

“help them move out” has come, but how does one proceed non-violently? They must leave the place to us so that new ideas can flow.

That first thing which I thought was a rat, which appeared dead, squashed, and dried-out, is now before me as a second one that I see. It surprises me, “wow!” if there are two rats, it is probable that there are more.

To judge where I come from, the house is large and we started from another place, on the other side.

The black rat begins to take on a strange appearance. I hope no one steps on it because it has feathers. It was a strange animal and I never found out what it was called.

In all honesty, the couple that precedes us is useless. The mayor is a good person but he is not competent. Stupid people ascended whose positions have been revoked. We aren’t part of them, we have a different vision.

There is something we do better than they do. We are more capable and the renovation is positive. I watch the change with confidence and respect it even though the spaces are still occupied.

The notorious living-room/reading-room appears before me as just another corridor. The corridor is somewhat narrow and long, longer than usual. Someone mentions that this is the reading room but I see it full of things, which makes me anxious because I know the history of a couple. It's as if everyone should have their personal office and space, I think.

Around the corner, there is an outdoor space. Perhaps it's towards another house that has sofas and everything else needed in the case someone liked to sit and read.

Night 082