Pain is the language that was spoken to me

 

Before I went to bed, I saw this video of a Marilyn Manson show in Rockville. Apparently, a guy recorded it with his cellphone camera. The sound was amazing, the guy must have been in the front rows. It looked like a cloudy afternoon, and I dunno why but, just when I saw Manson walking onto the stage, sort of wrapped in white smoke, and I heard the first lines of the bass guitar, I immediately felt that I was in Rockville, that I was a teenager, that music was the hardest drug I'd ever tried.

I woke up an hour ago, I have answered the comments that one referee made to a manuscript that I wrote and I sent to review to a popular science magazine, but I had a dream in which I was working at a university. Although it looked like my ideal job –an academic position for the rest of my life–, it seemed a silly job, it was not really what I expected to be.  Somehow I'd gotten that position in a very easy way. 

So, in my dream, I was with these guys. In the real world, I know one of them, I met him a couple of months ago, at a dinner in Monterrey, and we spoked about my employment situation as we drank a beer. This guy and the other two, at a point, walked out from the university and asked me if I wanted to go to eat at Tres Marías with them, in the car of the guy I know in the real world. It looked weird, it must have been midday on a weekday. The point is that my ideal job was a farce. 

Pull my brain stem out and unplug myself

I just walked out from a dream, it's 6: 30 am, I just cut myself in two, I cleaned up the vomit from the cats, they ate some sort of purgatory herb, 151 mg/dl of glucose, the day seems too cloudy, pretty closer to those yesterdays, when I was naive and had achieved nothing in academia, it's 6: 30 am, I'm listening to Rollins Band, Henry Rollins screams out something that sounds aggressive and painful, but I cannot stop thinking about what I dreamed.

We were together in some sort of auditorium, you were at my left, your sister was at my right, we were about to hear a lecture, maybe a false prophet of science, you were sad and cozy, with your big dark brown eyes, with those enormous Margaret Keane painting eyes, suddenly you started to touch my hand, I felt sort of excited, my mind started to fly away, then you started to touch your sister's hand, it was cozy. The audience was not aware of our existence, we were lost in the second or third row of seats.

In a moment you were touching my chest and then my abdomen and then you were caressing my crotch in a very slow and seductive way, you didn't stop looking at me, and I couldn't believe it, my mind started to fly away, I knew everything was possible between us, sooner or later, I would see you as I had always wanted to see you, since I saw you walking and wearing those tight-fitting leggings, when I was naive and had achieved nothing in academia and you lived for a period with your sister and me, it's 6: 30 am.

You kept caressing me, you did something that made feel about to explode, you kept looking at me, you told me something like: 

«What was that? It seems you really liked what I did! I liked it too...» 

My mind started to fly away, I knew everything was possible between us, sooner or later, I would see you as I had always wanted to see you, since I saw your crazy underwear when you lived for a period with your sister and me, everything was possible, I would see you sooner or later down on your knees, like that dream I had once, when the world was apocalyptic and we stared thru the window how a building collapsed in the early hours of a weekend, we were sort of drunk and we just had fucked it all, we had had a crazy night and had ruined everything for a few wild minutes of pleasure.