The logic of Dreams

The logic of Dreams

María Fernanda Rodríguez

I was walking fast through a wide square; I dare say it was Piazza di Spagna in Rome, but I could be wrong. What is certain is that I heard the crying of the water in the fountain, although I did not see it. What is certain is that I climbed the Spanish steps with the security that comes from walking through your place, a place that is known and loved.

I had put on a long dress that caressed the floor. Towards a beautiful day: clear sky, neither cold nor hot. I have the impression that the sun was present to illuminate the moment. Everything there worked as machines work, in an orderly and predictable way, aimed at running everything as programmed.

At the bottom of the stairs was someone that if I had been awake, I would not have recognized, but in the dream world he seemed very familiar to me. I greeted him from the distance, first with my hand and then with my thoughts. Still far away I told him that everything will be fine, that soon we will have the party. I smiled and picked up the lengths of that dress that, at that moment, I knew I loved. I kept walking and the square became wider and wider. I turned around and I was alone. The stairway was no longer a stairway. The Piazza suddenly had a perfectly flat floor shining like white ceramic. I was calm, although I couldn’t explain the feeling of happiness that I felt.

Suddenly I perceived a very close presence. Again, I turned around and there he was; I could recognize him in the dream and in other worlds too. He was wearing a white tuxedo jacket and black pants. Black bowtie and white shirt. He had his hand in one of his pants pockets. The slicked hair. I said I was ready for the party, but I could be wrong. What was certain is that he looked at me, smiled, and looked back at me. He walked to get closer, with the impetus to reach me, as one arrives at a place one knows well and is not afraid of. But he did not continue out of concern of disturbing my peace. I know it because in dreams everything is known, somehow everything is known. I was surprised. I looked at him and was surprised that he was standing there, well and alive, above all alive. I didn’t know why he was there, in that square that was mine, in that moment that I felt was mine. Now I question, was it he who asked to be in my dream or was it me, or my unconscious, who asked to visit him. I believe that when we dream, we are so close to ourselves that we distance ourselves from the world. I pressed my hands to the fabric of my dress and kept walking. I didn’t know what to say and he realized it and smiled, with that smile in his eyes and on his lips from the time when I met him in the world of the living, when one day, many years ago, he saved me from a broken heart.

In the world of dreams, he appears from time to time, I think to scare away oblivion.

An Ecuadorian writer living in Toronto, Canada. She has a Master’s degree in Creative Writing from the University of Salamanca. Her literary work has been published in various literary magazines and anthologies. She is a winner of several literary awards. She currently has a monthly publication in the Canadian Post newspaper.