Óscar Arnulfo Romero 
Han pasado 46 años…
El día que te mataron
fue el día en que sentí la amenaza
de algo oscuro y turbio más allá de nuestra casa.
Fue cuando tomé conciencia de que el mundo de afuera no era un refugio,
sino un territorio de sombras,
lleno de violencia, de peligro
y de gente muy, muy mala.
Pero también aprendí
que en medio de la oscuridad
se puede ser una luz,
aunque nos cueste la vida,
como te tocó a ti.
Estoy caminando en downtown SF, on Market St. De pronto veo a una señora que se cae de espaldas en un charco de agua. El cuerpo de la señora se desliza por la acera. Yo me acerco para ayudarla, pero luego hay otra mujer sentada que está tocando música, y me dice que la señora no se ha caído, que está haciendo un tipo de meditación nueva. Volteo a ver a la señora y me sonríe como confirmando.
Pienso que ya pronto veré a mucha gente en el suelo haciendo lo mismo.
En otro sueño, estoy en el cuarto de una oficina. Quiero usar el baño cuando alguien me dice que lo tienen que limpiar. Yo entro a remover algo rápido. En eso me doy cuenta que hay una cabeza, por si sola en el suelo. Y que eso es lo que quieren quitar del baño.
No recuerdo si es una cabeza humana, me dio la impresión de que era de un hombre ya mayor.
que es de noche y estoy en un cuarto, hablando con mi amigo. Yo estoy parada y el sentado a la orilla de la cama, hay una lámpara encendida sobre una mesa de noche.
Estamos platicando, como que hemos pasado platicando un largo tiempo. Luego el se acuesta, como cansado en la cama, y yo tengo la idea o fantasía de acostarme encima de él, y besarle el miembro por encima del pantalón, pero no lo hago.
Una canción en español cantada por un hombre salió de repente, decía algo como: “me muero de celos pero…”
No recuerdo lo demás.
Leyendo algunos escritos en Substacks porque no puedo dormir, me topé con este, que me pareció interesante:
“For all the days that linger, for all the days that are monumental and life changing and unexpected, there is so often an ordinary, unassuming, unknowing day before.
A day that looks like every other, unaware it will become loaded with a ghostly nostalgia that’s impossible to remember. The day before meeting someone significant, the day before a life changing idea, the day before a death. Sometimes these moments announce themselves, and they’re anticipated long before they arrive, but so often normalcy turns on its heel and day one of a new direction slips invisibly into life.
Sometimes the moments are loud and commanding; impossible not to know things won’t be the same. Sometimes they simmer and crescendo, all to be traced back to a day where the tracks switched. Preceding each of these consequential days was a day that looked like all the rest.
So, with this logic, within each day that seems nothing and normal, is the possibility that it could be the day before. The day before things change, before everything becomes different.
A day you probably won’t remember; one that’s the last of its kind.
- notes on the unpredictability of life
Que estoy en el hospital, y que entro en un cuarto. Hay una mujer en cama, convulsionando, como delirando por la fiebre. Los hijos la están mirando sin poder hacer nada para ayudarle. Pero luego yo hablo con ella, y al parecer no está sufriendo es solo que no puede dormir.
Luego era yo la que estaba acostada en la camilla del hospital. Aunque tenía los ojos cerrados, sentía la presencia de una enfermera encima de mí.
Me desperté desconcertada por un momento, no sabía si estaba en el hospital o en mi cama.
At around noon, Lydia and his mom arrived, so I gathered my things and left.
As I was driving, I started to feel off—very tired and sleepy. When I got home, I went straight to bed, but instead of sleeping, I began crying uncontrollably. I realized I had been holding everything in. Friday night was so intense and scary.
I spoke with Lydia on the phone, and that helped. She had a similar reaction. This time she reminded me of what I told her, when she was freaking out.
I also felt sad and a bit hurt by Miguel, leaving us right in the middle of this crisis. I wrote him an email. I told him I respect his decision, but it feels strange that he chose this moment to cut ties with us.
I stayed in bed, unable to sleep. My sweet friend J. had sent me a couple of emails; I only read the last one. He apologized for not writing sooner and said he hoped my friend was okay. His sweetness and kindness brought me comfort and helped me put my mind on something else.
Then I watched something mindless on YouTube to take my mind off everything. Eventually, I fell into a deep sleep.
My sleep was interrupted by a call from Aracely. She was very emotional. The doctors had asked the family to pull the plug on Sergio. In her mind, it was because they didn’t want to deal with him anymore. She also thinks it has something to do with insurance, and she wanted me to contact them to intervene.
I wasn’t in a good state myself, but I tried to talk to her as best as I could. I looked up why doctors would recommend removing life support, because I couldn’t trust my own voice at the moment. I read to her that sometimes it’s to prevent further suffering and allow the patient to pass peacefully. But Aracely still believes in miracles, and she didn’t allow it. She said the doctor got upset with her. And insisted that the insurance intervenes.
I told her again that insurance has nothing to do with this, that it’s a decision for the family to make. I also reminded her that I am not speaking to her as an insurance professional, my role as their insurance rep ended, this has nothing to do with it. I am just simply trying to be her friend and a voice of support. She understood and thanked me. I told her I know how difficult it has been for her, and wished I’ve could’ve done more to help. She understood and asked me how my friend was doing. I forgot that she called me right when I was in the hospital last week, I picked up her call because I always do, but had to explained why I couldn’t speak to her at that moment.
I started crying again after the call. I feel for her, and for her child.
I fell asleep again, listening to some music meditation. I woke up around 8, ate something, and went back to sleep.
All night, I dreamt about being in the hospital, but it’s hard to describe. I remember having my own room there, not as a patient, but as if I lived there and they had changed it. I was also helping a woman clean the covers of some books. She told me that if I found any money, I should give it to her. There was no money, just small packets of sugar.
I feel that JC is still critical, although improving. The main goal now is for him to get out of the ICU.
That I am in the hospital and that I have my own room there, but they move me without me telling me. Also something about my name being changed.
