THE LAST DREAM

             I always dreamed of been a victim.  A guy plucking my eyeballs out.  A beautiful killer stalking me, chasing me, ready to jump and hold me hostage.  Me running scared, maybe tied up, but always ending up dead.  Me surrounded by my family, my inert body lying on my bed like a beautiful icon from the thirties.  Suicide.  Overdose, my wrists slit, my throat slashed.  It didn't matter, but everybody crying,  my soul redeeming their sins.
              The oppressive light-green walls of my childhood still haunting me. Two small dead red fish lay still on the red carpet, photos of Cuba scattered everywhere and the telephone ringing tirelessly.
               Red-green Robin was my hero.
               The night before the day of the dead was a sweet and sour nightmare. I was ten, hiding holding my hands together and praying forgiveness. God/ess did not show up.
               Finally, a cheap brown shoe stepped on the red fish. Repulsive. The man picked up the fish,  one was half eaten (fluffy did that and I could not stop her) the other had its head gone.
               I always dream with a tribe of brown modern savages chasing me, we were all naked. They nabbed me and with a big knife split my abdomen open.  No pain, their teeth biting my flesh, their lips red with my blood, I was eaten alive. Day of the dead festival.
              Once a shrink wrote something in his notebook.
               The kitchen was neat, no dishes in the sink or on the dinning table, very unusual. The black table at the kitchen's corner was a mess, my most recent paintings were still laying against its legs, drawings were there one on top of another, torsos of men, flowers and an unfinished letter written in Spanish wanting to be discovered.
               My favorite fraise when I played super heroes was: amigo, amigo salvame (friend, friend save me) and someone came always to my rescue.  A green towel was my cape.  I was Robin flimsy and beautiful Robin.  I did not care who played Batman, I had to be Robin and rescued.
               You left that night, I asked you to stay but you said no, nothing unusual, we fucked, we showered together and then you went home to your family. My ghosts came and visited me I covered my ears with the palms of my hand and close my eyes but they made me to listen, they were mean and they revealed me who you really were.
               The first time I sucked a cock was when I was eight years old, his name was Sergio and he died. I did love him but my grand mother said he was a sinner, a pervert and death was the perfect reward for him.
                 The doors and windows were still locked when the police came in.  You called them. The bedroom door was half open. You could not close it again.  You waited in the kitchen for them holding your head with your hands as if you were afraid it will fell out. I've been seeing you, my dad is beside me. Yes I know I hated him, but we made up one night ago, and I could not tell you, I was trying to pick up the phone but it was too heavy or too light it ran like water trough my fingers.  We all were waiting for you, I mean, My dad, Sergio and me.  Sergio told me that he loves me, I said I love you, my dad say you did not love me. we didn't talk any more I was waiting for you to prove them wrong.
                   I wore red and green when I was a kid, my mom choose the style of clothes I wore but they always were in my favorite colors. You gave me a purple shirt and black pants for my birthday, you say they were more elegant, that's when I changed my mind and adore purple and black.
                  We saw the police searching around, looking behind curtains, in the bathroom, inside the fridge. You didn't move at all, you were thinking How to tell people, how to explain them you were there. How to tell my mother, should she come or should you bring me back to my home town? flying is expensive especially with a dead body by your side. I have money in my account that you can withdraw at any time and you know that. But you are thinking why did I put you through this ordeal. I'm selfish and I need some one else to take care of my own business.
                   The last memory I had was again of when I was ten years old, three months after Sergio's death, my mom was away and I had to stay at uncle Alfredo's home, he came  that night with two cute rabbits, one black, one white, Chato glad and I ran up to him, he kiss them, they were his sons and I was push aside, they got the rabbits and I went to bed crying. Sergio came back for the first time, he said I will be fine. That was the night I learn how to shut up love.
                   You hated me when I shut myself in the bathroom with my porno magazines masturbating.
                    I always told you life is like a beam of light, a misty silhouette you can see in a mirror with a lit candle and water as a reflection, That's the way of calling death back to life,
                   My body was on my bed, purple shirt and black pants, gorgeous as an icon from the thirties. A mirror against the wall, a full glass of water, a burnt candle.
                   The police said it was an obvious suicide, You know it was my time either way you knew I always dreamed of being  the victim.