R Ê V E S

I found myself working on a house in a hot summer day. I'm taking pieces off a roof and piling them up on a side. In my mind I keep playing a conversation I had earlier about how difficult it is to build a new property in that area because you have to use old pieces to build a new house so that it resembles the local architecture.

I go back in the house and see huge pieces of furniture in what appears to be the dining room, living room and den, all three areas kind of together. The house is for sale. My landlord is sitting on a chair and I ask him that once he sales the house, where is he going to put all this furniture? I picture his house and know that all his rooms are packed with all kind of furniture. He tries to explain to me how he could fit all that in his house but I really don't see that happening.

I push the bottom on an elevator, I'm trying to go up. I wait for what appears to be like a couple of minutes and a guy who's is besides me says that this elevator may not go to the floor I want to go to. We walk to the other elevator across an open entrance hall in what appears to be a residential building. We jump in the elevator. That's a panoramic elevator and there's a lot of people in it; young people, girls in bikini and some young guys with swimming trunks, all sun tanned going somewhere up. I have a beer in my hand, ice cold, and my floor light is on. Everybody knows that this elevators may not take me to my floor but everybody is smiling. I take a drink of my beer and say that if it doesn't go to the tenth floor, my destination, I'd just go down again and grab another Ice cold beer. Everybody smiles. The elevator stops in my floor and I jump out.

I get to a room with a large table when a guy called Mohammed that I suppose to know appears and says that I have to go, that everything is over. He hands me a copy of The Economist, published at some point in the future, and the cover of it has a story about me and another guy who'd been asked to go as well. He says that he's sorry and tries to explain how it happened, but I tried to read the magazine in order to figure out how my own dead happened but is impossible, I can't read and I can't understand what he's saying.

My ex boss appears and says that what the fuck he thinks he's doing; Mohammed says that is all right, that anyway it doesn't hurt if we know how it happened, he takes my boss by the elbow aside and whispers something that I can't understand. My ex boss is very upset and he signs Mohammed to get rid of us and not to say anything else. Mohammed turns to me and says that he's sorry, shrugging, and says that I have to go.

I'm walking down a long street. I'm on left sidewalk and perhaps a mile away I can see a very busy road with buses and cars. To my left there's a park with a line of bushes and a lot of trees; on the other side there's two story houses that resemble a traditional neighborhood in South America. As I walk down that street I see in the distance the guy that was let go together with me, he's walking towards me and I want to ask him or tell him about our certain death. A Suburban SUV is driving very slow on my direction, I tried to remember if I'm suppose to be hit by a car but can't remember; somehow I think that it happened different. The car slows down and points towards me. I freaked out and jump the bushes, getting in the park and trying to get behind one of the trees, the Suburban is definitely after me. I fall on the grass and my legs don't respond, I can barely drag myself towards the closest tree and I know I'm not going to make it. The Suburban drives into the park and the driver approaches me slowly, knowing that I'm on the grass and that I can't escape, the engine is roaring like crazy, like a lion ready to eat an injured animal.

Very quickly I jump on my feet before the driver can react and plan to jump on the hood next. I'm planning to get my hands through the sun roof and chock the driver. I can picture myself choking him, grabbing his throat with my owns hands and all my strength yelling at him "who the fuck sent you?!". Through the driver's window I can see the installations of a cargo terminal with cranes, ships and containers all around us.

When I jump on the hood and regain my balance I found out that it doesn't have a sun roof.

I wake up and start blogging. . .