He was tired, all day long he was waiting for that time, when his eyes will turn off. For him, it was a way to think about something else. Not to think anymore. You know, life’s hard. That what he’s used to say to his daughter. She left him, not his daughter, his wife. Sleep is the only way to slip away from reality. Sometimes he dreams, but can’t even remember when he wakes up. He may be doing crazy things in his dream, but he will never know.
Been dreaming about you last night
You or someone else, doesn’t matter.
My mom told me she can remember all the dream she had since she was 25. She has a notebook where she writes them. Crazy. The only thing that I can remember of my last night, is that it was shitty. I never sleep in a row. Always wake up at 3 a.m. Fuck it. I’ve been seeing things in my street that nobody has ever seen. There was a guy, wandering in my street. Not a man you can trust. He had a scar on his face and a pants on his knees. He looked drunk, I swear. But I watched him all the street long. He was walking slowly, as slow as possible. At that time this was beautiful. Him, not knowing I was watching him. He felt free to be himself at 3 a.m. And only at 3 a.m. Now, when I wake up in the night, I go for a walk and I feel this, liberty.
Last week, a friend told me that last night he saw a murder, « can you believe that ?». That’s what he said. The answer was no. I didn’t believed him, he seems that kind of guy, one day being a soccer player, the other being Pablo Escobar, another one being a « son of god ». Fuck it. But night was the best moment to murder someone. Not so dumb. I asked him if he knew or if he had seen the murder. The answer was no. He didn’t trust me. I’m as that kind of guy, one day listening other’s stories, the other being thinking about it, and another one being telling to someone else this story.
