dream drowning

It's windy, very windy. Under the dimmed daylight that comes through thick layers of clouds, the landscape is defined by various hues of grey. The sea seems a big grey coffin, as if made of lead. It's very cold and the ocean breeze brings drops of water on to my face and little grains of sand adhered to my skin.

The sky isn't blue ' as I had hoped it would be ' but grey and heavy, dyeing the ocean dark grey and the sand silver. At a closer look the sand is made out of big grains or tiny pebbles of different shapes and colours, dust and rests of other lives that lived in other times.
The wind gets stronger, the air colder. The ocean has an acrid fishy smell, rather salty, the water looks angry and feels cold on my feet, as I slowly make my way in.

Once in, I'm nothing, so small and fragile. Internal currents move my limbs in different directions; the tide is stronger than me. The waves get higher and higher, the current underneath pulls my legs in, and waves push my head down. I let myself go, the ocean plays with me. Inside it, I'm insignificant as a grain of sand, being tossed away by a wave; I start to turn in circles. Every time I try to swim out, I get sucked in further. My feet don't reach the bottom, I start to swim, but the harder I try the less I move. I'm losing my breath, I'm panting. From time to time I swallow a wave whilst gasping for air, and I'm beginning to give in, it's stronger than me. The ocean's swallowing me, I can't fight it. I resign myself to the fact that these would be my last breaths, that what little I could see would be my last landscape. I remember reading about drowning and how it was a rather pleasant death. What about my friends? Waving and shouting in the distance . . .it would spoil their holiday. I couldn't do that. Just one last try; swim to the bottom, against the current, no air, no strength. And when I feel another wave fighting to pull me in on its return, I put my foot down and yes!! I reach the bottom: I'm saved. I wade out. The waves beat me on the back, angry with me, furious. I hobble out of the ocean slowly; I've no energy left in me. A lifeguard comes and mumbles something I don't understand. Too late for rescue.
My feet are covered in sand again, minuscule pebbles, remains of lives swallowed by the sea, different shapes and colours. It's windy, it's cold; and the ocean looks like a big grey coffin.

I wrap myself with the sarong on which I had lain. Everyone's watching the surf championship that has just started. A Brazilian guy is the favourite to win. I close my eyes, trying to rest from the near death experience. The breeze caresses my face, the sand smells of rotting fish.
A haze of colour forms in front of my eyes and I can hear strange sounds. I'm in a tunnel, and at the end of it, there's a light.
I can see our old garden. My mum's orchids perched on the eucalyptus branches. Birds of paradise ' purple and orange crest - in their corner, roses at the front, by the gate. The dogs are running around after a pigeon. A sloth's hanging on the terrace fence and the dogs bark at the confused intruder.
I walk down the back garden, towards the cellar. I never used to like it before, it scared me, but now I feel this unreasonable desire to go in there. I walk down the stairs, open the door and go down some more steps. There are none of my dad's tools left, or my mother's gardening gadgets. There's only a chair, and on it, an old lady I have never seen and yet I recognise in her something very familiar. She's a native with long silver hair and a child's spark on her eyes. She must be around seventy-five, although her tiny frame makes her look like a child from a distance. She stares, I stare back. I don't even know if we speak the same language. Where have I seen those eyes? She looks amused. She greets me, smiling; I salute her back. She offers me a seat, funny I hadn't notice there was a chair there before.
- 'What brings you here? she asked
- 'I lived here, well; I lived upstairs, some time ago. You?'
- 'I'm visiting. I'm Yuri' ' she said giving me her hand.
- 'I don't like basements, they give me the creeps' ' I didn't really know what to say to her.
- 'I know your grandmother, I knew her a long time ago. Do you see her much?
- 'No, she died three years ago'
- 'Death is just a different state of existence'

She starts telling me about her childhood as the daughter of two native hacienda workers for a Basque family ' the Irigaray's. They took care of their horses. They occupied the left wing of the hacienda ' reserved for the servants ' which was also the nearest to the stables.
She went to school with Joseba Irigaray, the master's older son. Every afternoon, after they had come back from school they would sit on the porch, drinking lemonade and reading for school together, and only once homework was over she was allowed to visit her granddad. Jose use to join her on her visits there; he lived in a forest clearing near the river Orinoco ' already the trip was an adventure. Granddad taught them the language of his ancestors, showed them how to cure their wounds by chewing leaves and applying them; taught them how to find out if a snake was near by hearing the silence rather than the noise. Coming back was a much harder task; for the way back to the hacienda after sunset looked as if the forest had suddenly become haunted. Animals that dozed during the hot day awoke to the freshness of the evening, crying their songs to one another. Shades from trees that provided with much needed rest from the blazing sun became frightening under the moonlight. Like scared mice they crept their way back home, quiet so they could hear snake's silences. Blind as they were, in the midst of the forest and only a few minutes from home, they always held hands, to let each other know they were fine ' whilst respecting the silent noises of strayed serpents.

Yuri paused, as if for breath or perhaps remembrance ' I couldn't tell. I think I heard this story before, my grandmother told me it when I was twelve. Still I pretended I had never heard it, for the pleasure of hearing it again, in full detail.

I wake up from my dream and found myself alone on the beach ' not a soul ' no friends, nor anyone. I'm scared and don't know what to do, where to go. After all, it's my first time there. I wouldn't find my way to the house even if I had a sense of direction. I don't even know the name of the road where the house is nor can I see a road or a house from where I am. It's as if the surface has been swiped out entirely except for the sea and the sand ' both of which have managed to keep the silver tinge. From a distance the waves look bigger than I remembered them earlier, menacing. Perhaps that's why everyone has disappeared ' but my friends? Surely they wouldn't have left me here on my own, would they?
On the horizon, I see a threatening huge wave forming, so tall I can see it clearly even if it's miles away. The sea's angry with me; it's trying to get back at me. It advances swiftly; I start to run from it but the wave moves fast and a moment later I'm taken in by it to the sea, swallowed by the ocean at last.
Am I dead? My body doesn't respond, just sinks as if it was a stone, but I'm still inside it. Yet there is no pain, no suffocation. I don't know what's happening. I sink lower and lower into a dark and cold place, deep blue. I can't see much at all, but I feel as if I have stopped sinking and I rest on something ' must be the floor. I must have been in the water for half an hour now ' without air, how could I?
At a distance, I see a light advancing my way, bouncing slowly; it stops beside me. Its light allows me to see what's around me: few wide flat rocks and a flat fish that looks like a rock, except that it moved when I looked; some arachnid looking mollusc creeps in between the fish and the rocks, freaked by the light. Right in front of me there's a door, pushed open by a sudden current. Suddenly, I recover the feeling in my body, like an electric shock. I can move now, so I go in.
Inside, there's an old man, thousands years old, yet he's very young at the same time. His long metallic hair looks as if its join to his beard, of the same colour. His skin is covered with scales around his arms and legs, still there's something really familiar about this person I have never seen before. The look in his eyes I have seen, I know that much. He seems to know me. Smiles.

- 'Where am I?' I asked
- 'At the bottom of the sea'
- 'And how is that possible? Can I breathe under water?
- 'You are dreaming. The only way that you can come here is in your dreams. Sit'

I sit down and he approaches me very slowly, constantly staring at me.
-'Don't you know who I am? The silver old man asked.
-'No.' I said, although like with the old woman, there was something terribly familiar about him.
- 'I'm Coro, the spirit of an ancestor. I live in the sea because I like it better here than outside. It's cooler and much quieter.'
I could see what he meant. The heat of the rainforest is such, it feels solid and heavy on ones shoulders, the humid air is difficult to breathe and the incessant calling of the crickets can drive one mad. Down here though, it was calm and cool and the only noise that can be heard is the one from the morays when they creep out of their holes.
He started telling me a story, about two kids that lived near the forest he inhabited years ago: Yuri and Joseba, who grow up together in the Irigaray's hacienda.

A beam of light disturbed my sleep; the sun's shining bright. I opened my eyes slowly. The ocean looked very calm now, so different to its previous aggressive behaviour. I realised I was still wrapped on my sarong and my head's resting on a heap of sand, all my friends are still seating there.
It felt as if I'd been asleep for days, but it had only been a couple of hours. What did those dreams meant? I haven't been home for years, since my grandma passed away, when I was eighteen, yet I saw her so clearly as if it was yesterday.

Confused, I sat up and grabbed a bottle of warm water that stood by my side ' my mouth was dry and salty, really salty as if I had been down at the bottom of the sea.
-'You were knocked out for a couple of hours' ' my friend Nono said.
-'I was exhausted, you know, from the excitement' I said, half yawning.
-'We tried to wake you up earlier but couldn't, so we left you to sleep a little longer, do you feel better? The surfing competition has been cancelled, there was a huge wave and then suddenly the wind ceased; and the sea went calm, too calm for surfing, so they called it a day. Still, at least the sun has come out, at last. You should go in for a swim now you know, no danger of drowning' he said, laughing'.
- 'I had enough of the sea for a day, I feel as if I've swallowed the whole bloody thing. I think I'm just going to sit here for a bit.
- 'A fine choice, I think, it won't hurt you to get a bit of colour and wipe that pallor of your face! Oh, watch those two on the right, aren't they sweet?' - He was pointing towards an old couple at a distance, holding hands.

As they approached, I couldn't believe my eyes or utter a word. From far I could already recognise the now familiar shapes with long silver hair, their dark skin. But I was hoping it was just a coincidence. As they drew closer, I recognised the face of Yuri with her feline eyes and Coro, by her side. They were talking to each other as any other couple would, whilst taking a walk on the beach. I stared astonished, not being able to make any form of reply to my friend's conversation, waiting for a sign of recognition from their part; after all, I had been talking to them not too long ago. I started to feel really dizzy, not knowing what was dream or reality; and, as they walked past, Coro's face turned my way, and he winked at me, as if asking me to keep a secret.