Veronica was yet your associate when I arrived to your lab. In the very first New Year's dinner I attended to, she got sort of drunk and someone in the dinner said that she and me got stuck in an experiment needed to baptize me or something like that. she used to get drunk in every occasion she could.  It was so traumatic to meet you that I still dream of you. Six years ago I still depended on you. In my dream you were so fragile, so dumb, so vulnerable. You wanted me to work for you. We were at your office. You said “You just need to do what I ask you to do”. Your associate wore a pretty short skirt and a blouse so   

20may22 7 am

Strange Days Have Tracked Us Down

I dreamed of you weeks ago. It was a sunny day. It was hot. You wore a blouse and a skirt. The heat was melting me and I thought that it would be awesome to wear skirt sometimes, like Axl Rose and Kurt Cobain did in the 90's. We had a meeting in a classroom and we were so closed together. Behind your mask, I could perceive your smile. It shined like a gigantic free spirit. The light of the classroom also made you look like an older woman and covered your face with freckles. Your ear rings also shined. They moved along your face as you spoke and smiled behind your mask. 

As we spoke about nothing, I did not want to focus on your legs, but it was almost an impossible mission. I sensed them with all my skin senses, like a warm touch in the eyes, like a colorful cut in the retinas. You know, some of the photos you share on Facebook in real life, in which you wear skirts also, are almost impossible to ignore. Dunno why, but I am obsessed with legs since I was a kid. When I first felt attracted to women, legs were like a crazy magnet. And since then I'm such an animal and an idiot. I don't want to be misunderstood: I respect women, I admire women and I think women are the most valuable living being on Earth. 

Dunno why I cannot control myself. Am I ill? 

In your photos you look like an innocent mom, you look so happy with your baby daughter, you look so happy with your husband. And it just seems you're so real. And I really like the way you are with your family and with your friends. I haven't ever seen you mad or angst. It is so admirable. 

In the dream, it was also almost an impossible mission to ignore your legs. And, as I write these lines, I truly feel bad about it. I know I am just an animal. No matter how much gray matter do I have, no matter how much I try to use my brain: I am a simple man with simple ideas and simple wishes... and dark thoughts. This photo I had seen on your Facebook in real life, had suddenly appeared in another dream and then inside another dream, and so when I had this dream I write about it, I was suddenly scared of the intensity and the power of an image unconsciously trapped in my mind. I wasn't aware of the photo, until I dreamed of it for the first time. And it left me dumbfounded and thinking of your legs. 

Everything was so intense in the dream. Suddenly you shined like a gigantic raising sun. When I picked up the pieces in which your legs were the main character of all of my dreams, I realized you reminded me of my first girlfriend. We were in junior high school and she was younger than me. We met under strange conditions and there were rumors about her cheating on me, but I just kind of believed she was innocent and I accepted it. She sort of hypnotized me. She was so seductive and played to be innocent. 

As I write these lines, my cats are running like wild horses and they ask me to feed them. They made me feel that this is stupid. They sort of tell me “Hey, man, stop writing non sense things about your dreams; come on, wake up and feed us!” But I need to write. Nowadays it is a bit difficult to have some kind of inspiration and time to write. I am studying and teaching and working on bureaucratic stuff all the time. 

So in my dream I realized you reminded me of my first girlfriend and it was a perfect excuse to look briefly to your legs. Immediately, as I took a look, like a deep breath before diving in, I felt irradiated by the energy of your legs and I felt I was a stupid hypnotized animal. And so here I am again. I dreamed of you again. As I wake up I realized we were closed together again. And that you sort of hypnotized me and made me realized you felt the same way I feel about your legs. And you made me realized you knew how I felt about your legs. In this recurrent dream you wear a blouse and a skirt and you smile and your smile shines like a gigantic free spirit, like a wild horse. And my heart is so crazy about it and I sense everything is possible. It is scary. It is a nightmare. And I feel bad about it. I am a stupid hypnotized animal. I feel guilty. I cannot control my dreams. Dunno why, but I am obsessed with legs. I'm such an animal and an idiot. Dunno why I cannot control myself. 

You Only Live Once

On this period of my life, I don't like to work on weekends. I used to do it when I was an undergraduate student, when I was a postgraduate student and when I was a posdoc. Then, I enjoyed it and I felt productive and I was passionate about my work. As time passes by, as I am always on the tightrope, as I get older, working on weekends is a dead end. Passion sort of vanishes with uncertainty. 

Sometimes, like today, I find it annoying and unnecessary. As I was jogging earlier in the morning, sort of waking up to this Saturday, with my eyes sort of closed to the shining sun, with my ears listening to Mark Lanegan's voice, I tried to not think about working on weekend, but, as I ran and ran and got exhausted and my mouth went dry, all my thoughts focused on the things I have to do today. 

Perhaps, my reluctance to work today has to do with the fact that I am in a bad mood. I will have to work on a review paper. I started to writing it by myself about half a year ago. Then, in December, in holidays, I finished and I sent it to the Principal Investigators I work with. It was really a though time. My future was uncertain. My contract ended in January. I was not so enthusiastic, but I finished the review paper. I received no feedback from PI's in the last five months. Now, they want me to start all over again. I see their point, but I'm in a bad mood. 

As The Strokes say (and many many musicians before them): we only have one life. 

What do you do with your time?

On the last days I've been watching again some random episodes of Breaking Bad. It's one of my favorite TV Series of all time. The dialogues are awesome. I saw an episode in which Mr. White tells Pinkman how he discovered, at a very old age, his true passion. He says something like “You discovered it at a very early age, and I sort of envy you”. 

I wonder what do I do with my time? Am I doing it right? Am I wasting my time?

I love to write since I was a kid. I love to read since I was a kid. And I have a PhD in which some of my duties imply to write; not literature, but scientific papers. And it is fun. I also have to teach neuroscience to undergrad students. And it is fun, too. But, sometimes, students are so apathetic. And I have no brain to read and to write about myself.