domingo, 6 de março de 2011

Back to childhood

Every morning I wake up at 6:30 am, wake my boyfriend up, I go back to sleep while he showers. At 7:00, I am finally up and making breakfast. Generally, my boyfriend and I talk about our good or bad night’s sleep and about our dreams.

Today everything is going as usual, until I recall my dream. “When he asks, I will just say that I dreamed about my childhood”, I think. He asks and all happens as planned. “We will talk more about it when I am back from work; I have a meeting and I can’t be late,” he says. As he leaves, I start wondering why a sweet dream had trigged such an embarrassing feeling.

I dreamed about my cousin. She and I were very close during our childhood. She had the most beautiful straight long hair that I had ever seen. I had (and still have) curls that some people find beautiful, but I didn’t at the time.

We were about seven and while playing together, I would often think a bad thought: “Cut her hair, cut her hair.” But I loved her so much that I couldn’t. However, my obsession with her hair was following me like a shadow.

One day woke up and I saw her sitting outside crying and her hair was shorter than ever, like a boy cut. I felt guilty; I cried and hugged my cousin, repeating “I am sorry, please, forgive me.” She interrupted me, saying, “It is not your fault; my mom did this because my hair was full of bugs.” But I was not convinced. I asked my aunt about it and she confirmed. Without any hesitation, I begged my aunt to do the same to my hair. She first refused and my cousin desperately says “You are going to look ugly as I do now,” but I insisted saying that I had lots of bugs and I couldn’t bear them anymore. Then my aunt did cut it. After while we were climbing a mango tree and my cousin asked me whether I had done that for her to feel better; I answered “for us.”

In my dream my cousin wanted to talk to me. I wonder if she remembers that event. By coincidence after noon, talking to her on the phone we recall our good old times; we talk about our slumber parties and about the mango tree we used to climb, but she doesn’t remember that episode. For sure that event hadn’t affected her as much as it had affected me. That probably was the first time that I got acquainted with my dark side. Things may have been so different if I hadn’t faced “my bugs”.

As the day goes by I understand my embarrassing feeling; I realize that I had never told this story to anyone. You are the first to know.   

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