Bab 7: A Dry Run
I woke up from my dream like a fresh young man full of vigor. I made a loud chuckle when I discovered the generous outcome of my explosion that had dried out. It had covered parts of my naked chest and upward to my neck; it clung to my skin like a paste. Recalling what transpired last night, it easily vanished the jubilation that I felt. It was only a dream, I told myself. The assurance I was giving myself that it was just a dream lacked the needed convincing to make me believe an iota of it. It was not a dream; it was a nightmare. It gave me what I had fancied and fantasized. In exchange, the shadow further increased my insecurities, anxieties and fears. The mind had a way of expunging itself from what it didn’t want to acknowledge exist, and so I put myself in a state of denial, never accepting that what took place was a nightmare. The young woman wasn’t dead, I said, reassuring myself again and again. It was only a dream.
The shadow made his promise to help me, and he fulfilled his promise with much generosity. After some doubts about him, I was convinced he was indeed a friend. My recollection of what transpired between me, my shadow, and the young woman made the hairs on my skin stood on end. Whatever my misgivings after the events of last night, it had given me fresh start to live my life again. How strange that the human system of reproduction had become hostage to the mysterious manipulation of the brain. Though everything that happened in my dream was only a product of my wild, desperate, hidden, desires its transformation into something made a long-lasting effect on my troubled psyche.
I made a glowing judgment on a lone instance of an event; it blindsided me to prepare myself against the malevolence that followed its trail. The shadow gave me a taste of a piece of heaven, and I reciprocated giving him my trust. I conveniently forgot his history of many instances of manipulation and deception; it was a grave mistake. The one-night dream did not cure what ails me. Not only that it made it worse; it created an unforeseen and unexpected consequences.
The appropriate move was to know if my shadow had shared with me an everlasting aphrodisiac with an effect that transformed me into a raging bull with limitless sexual desires. To maintain my secret, the women of Avenida Riz were out of my plan. I didn’t have the courage to contract one of them, and exposed my deep secret. I went to a cheap night spot and hired its best hostess for a one-night stand. We went to a cheap hotel, the favorite place of bugs, and proceeded to do the rituals. It was a very bitter struggle for me. I had to raise the white flag for the attempt was soon tiring me; and the whore was showing impatience. I paid her services, and ended up receiving from her a self-constrained smile of derision and contempt. I was a laughing stock before her eyes. The one night dream my shadow had staged for my benefit never solved anything, and only exposed my naiveté and gullibility.
After months of failures I was again in a struggle to make a facade of normality to my daily life. In one of the nights that I tried to again remake that one glorious moment, I woke up in disappointment and with deep anger. The shadow had abandoned me after giving me a taste of his creation, leaving me a forlorn soul. It was this night that I decided to do something, and that something would create a life of its own.
As I sat on the edge of my bed, a final decision was made. It had to be done, for not doing it would mean a lifetime of powerlessness and wretchedness. My salvation could only be attained by me with only the help of my own hands. My Shadow left me a legacy and I thanked him for that; but it also left behind its unintended consequences.
I put on my clothes and a pair of rubber boots. I ran my hand inside my pockets to make sure I have my keys. This time I also made sure that I have a flashlight with me. Before I went out the door, I grabbed my jacket from the chair’s backrest to cover me from the rain.
The night had gone totally dark. The storm was in its most dangerous phase. The intermittent howling of the winds some hours back had doubled in its intensity. The storm had by now continuously blowing its bullhorn. The accompanying rain had also made its mark and freely poured down its water. As I stepped outside the house, a strong gusty wind nearly toppled me down while I carefully navigated the plank. As I approached the corner, I pointed the flashlight towards the tent; it was still there. The corner tent was still standing. It was a great warrior never surrendering to the force of nature. The dangling lower part of my jacket which I used to cover my head was slapping every parts of my body from all directions trying to tell me to cease from what I was trying to do. Parts of the tent structure were flapping like wings of birds preparing their first take off to get away from me, from my coming monstrosity. Some patches had actually lifted, and through the created holes the inside of the tent was quite visible from the outside. I felt pity for its resident.
Moonface seldom lighted her small kerosene lamp, but in this instance with darkness around her, and winds and rain all over her, it was only prudent to have her light on just in case. Moonface was also afraid to die in the dark after all. I made the usual tap on her door and waited. I tapped again after several seconds; this time harder. “Who is it?” came that familiar shrill of a voice.
“It’s me.” I said, intentionally not mentioning my name. Remembering my acquired habit, I made a few steps back. The door opened abruptly afterwards and followed by the usual thudding of the door covering. The light coming from a small flashlight directed at my face made me winced.
“You again! What do you want?” she growled.
After recovering from the momentary blindness, I answered, “I’m planning to consume my imported whiskey and I thought I might as well invite you to partake of it. I remembered what you said about a nice drink tonight, and I agree, it would be great to pamper our senses with booze in this weather.” From the bouncing light off the wall, I could see her staring at me with suspicion. I could imagine her teeth tearing the inside flesh of her closed mouth with its rapid movement. Her lips made several pointing movements from side to side giving a sign that he was considering my invitation.
The jacket I put over my head to cover me from the heavy downpour had become heavier. If I stayed much longer outside of her door without protection from the rampaging weather, I would soon catch a cold or worse be downed by pneumonia. As I stood outside her door, pummeled by the rain and the wind, a thought occurred to me that she was indeed different. To her it was just normal to look at me never giving much thought nor care what I was going through as I stood in front of her door, drenched and all. She was still sizing me up when I spoke again.
“If you’re not inclined to accept my invitation then I think I should go now. Some other night, perhaps,” I said, sounding natural to hide my looming disappointment.
“Did I say no?” she finally said. As it turned out she was interested. The magic words “imported whiskey” was too much an insensitive to say no.
“Not afraid of being seen with me going to your place?” she asked.
“No,” I answered truthfully. “Besides the whole neighborhood is a ghost town. No one is up and about. She knew she was an outcast in this place, so I continued, “People avoided you, I know, but I’m not like them. I value your friendship.” The last words I uttered rang hollow because there was no truth to it. I had to say those untruthful words if I have to convince her. I had to massage her ego a bit.
“I believe you. If not, why would you bring me a bottle of gin every week,” she replied, with a chuckle. She was hooked finally.
“I’ll get my umbrella,” she said, and tried to turn around to look for it in her cramped place.
“No need for that,” I said, “It would be useless to use with this wind.”
“Ah, you think so?” she said.
“Just grab something to cover your head,” I said. “My place is not that far we’ll reach it in no time at all without you getting wet. After sometime, we’re finally on our way to my place.
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