dreamed that my mother died. Not by natural death. Not in an accident. Not by a slow and painful disease. I dreamed I was preparing a soup. Before you try it, watched. In his mind he spent his entire life. Only the bad times. The days when he thought he had erred. All he could have done wrong. Did not think much. He took a bottle with a liquid which I did not distinguish. Nor does the label. He emptied. At the soup. Caliente. Smoking. I was there. It was a mere spectator. But I felt the warmth of the broth. And feel his sadness in tow. I could feel the chain that I wanted to get rid of. I felt the pain of abandonment of his daughters. I felt the pain of childbirth. But the pain of detachment of the umbilical cord was even worse. I dreamed that my mother died. I took a sip of his soup. And died a memory. I was a spectator of his act. A second sip and delete the abandonment of my father. Your body and mind were sediendo to nothing. I saw it. Stretched hand. Not reached. On the third sip came off the birth of her three daughters. Did not get to take off. On the fourth forgot his childhood. That one that caused so much pain. I dreamed my mother died. Not by natural death. Not in an accident. Not in a slow and painful disease. Dreamed that she prepared. His own pósima. His own end. His forgetfulness.
When I woke up at dawn, I thought the last time I saw her. A cruel tears came, not my eyes, but my soul. I remembered the message I received minutes before getting on the plane. "Child, I gave the blessing, but you know you always have with you"
dreamed that my mother died. And I became an orphan. Helpless. Evicted. Made me forget.
