The Red Container and the House to Come

I remember dreaming that I was on the street of a small, provincial town standing in front of a crane which was moving my red, 20 feet long container. It is suspended between the electricity wires but I find a way to control its oscillating movements with two pincers that hold the container on each side.

[person A] and I successfully managed to displace the container. Soon, the police arrive. They search me and find marijuana, I'm on the spot now, making me a law- breaker.

[person B] is also there. The container was left someplace between the back alleys of a town similar to San Miguel de Allende. It was left open. The police went in and found more marijuana, which [person C] forgot there. However, they held me responsible because it is my container, making me suspicious and accomplice in a

crime.

Guilt creates distance. I feel pressure from the attention that they give me and [person A]’s need to judge me but feeling guilty is useless, I think, because the others also use it to justify smoking marijuana in secret. They found us out, and what’s done is done. My error disappoints [person A], but that’s the way it is and there is nothing I can do.

I skillfully evade the police and go towards an area of the town with large avenues. I hide everything; I left with my pockets empty.

In a different dream, there is a place that reminds me of my childhood home, the one in [private childhood-home locality redacted]. My mother and [person D] are there.

She approaches me to tell me something. As usual, I have to tease the words out of her, but I feel like she has something important to say this time. [person D] doesn’t want to keep on working in this house, and I understand her. I suppose she

finally got fed up with my mother’s apprehensive and controlling character. Her words make me deeply sad. We are great friends, almost like mother and daughter. It is as if my own mother was leaving.

My mother arrives later and gets dressed as I cry about [person D]’s departure. I try to tell her about my grief and hope to find solace in her, but she is cold and hard. She ignores me. She doesn’t show any empathy or sensibility. I am pushed to the point of breaking and decide to leave. The current situation at the [private childhood-home locality redacted] house leaves me nothing, so I leave.

In the dream, my grandmother [person E], before dying, left me [person F] and [person G]’s house on [private street name redacted] in Santiago. I tell my mother I want to officially accept the house and sign it to my name. It is the first step of a big decision. Since [person D] is no longer here, I feel alone. But I am hopeful that she will want to return to work with me in the new house.

The house has a patio that faces the

street. I notice a similarity to the houses of the San Miguel Chapultepec neighborhood in Mexico City. Surprisingly, I run into my friend [person H] and I ask him for help with the move. I notice something strange about his clothes as I talk to him; it is his 10cm-high boots. I do a double-take when I realize that I am dreaming, and then I realize that his boots are a representation of “the glamour of his character” and nothing else.

[person H] tells me he is waiting for someone to bring his daughter, who in the dream is named [person I], and thus he can’t help me. I have no option but to figure it out on my own, I respond.

I ask my mother to put me in contact with [person G] but she puts me in contact with her son [person J], instead. When I take the telephone and introduce myself, the dream transports me to the living room in of the house on [private street name redacted], where [person J] is seated.

After many years of not seeing each other, [person J] asks me, “How am I sure that it

is you?” To make a connection, I say, “I am very sorry about the hurricane.” There was an earthquake in Mexico City recently, and two days afterwards hurricane Irma hit Miami, where he lives.

In the dream, [person J] is still the same beautiful, freckled child. That and the unfinished walls, some still under construction and others barely finished with stucco, confirm it.

As I walk towards the nursery, where the television is, I see a man with short hair and a white face cross. He is searching for [person G], his mother. I guess he is a family member of [person F] who I don’t recognize. Yet, he approaches me with open arms, happy to see me. At the same time, [person G] opens the door of the room, still sleepy from her nap with [person K], [person F]’s daughter. It wasn’t my intention to bother her and I can patiently wait outside until she wakes up, so [person G] goes back into the room.

It makes me happy to see her remodeling her house. It represents the first step

towards our new room with [person L]. Every change implies a plan. I let myself get carried away by the excitement of setting up the main room of the house, the rooms in the corridor, for when [person A] comes, and the video-game room.

Night 084