It's funny how this blog keeps becoming a dream journal. The important stuff is either too private or maybe with age I'm more concerned about who might discover it. On the other hand, dreams are quite private, right?

Anyways… I had a dream two days ago. I dreamt that fb was testing a new phone app. Shared dream technology, using my phone as interface. They were doing secret experiments to discover if that could be the next best thing to top Hangouts. Unfortunately they didn't anticipated that people don't behave in dreams like in real life. Even if you don't know you are sleeping, you simply don't have access to certain areas of your brain. So it was not a pleasant surprise to chat with your friends. You think the internet allows us to be jerks, wait until you see how people treat people in dreams.

Also, there was this small problem of nightmares roaming free of their sleepers, and that guy that sublimated frustration by killing strangers. Good news is that you just wake up if you die in that experiment. I remember knowing that I was in a dream, but that it was quite different than usual with my lucid dreams. FB had setup a small pretty village for the experiment. I never dream about villages, hehe.

I remember feeling good knowing that Karina was not in danger as she doesn't have an smartphone. I remember trying to outsmart the killer. Usually in my lucid dreams I can summon powers/magic. Something was preventing me from controlling my dream. So I couldn't hide, I needed to discover what was going on and tell the people about this dark project. I noticed policemen appearing, obviously fb guys. Who uses those colors? hehe.

FB was trying to capture the killer, people were tweeting about their strange dreams. They wanted to cover it all. I was this close to finding out how they managed to maintain a shared coherance when they turned it off. I remember waking up in my room. And then I knew I was still dreaming, hehe. Stupid nested dreams. I was in a lucid dream now.

It always amazes me the kind of dreams my subconscious can spin. The way we play. I need to point out that before going to sleep I was complaining. The previous dream had been quite dry. Only math. I don't rest when I dream only math. I can see my subconscious saying, 'ah so you think I'm loosing my touch?'. =) I love me, there I say it. Happy?

ps. I know it was just a dream, because david was there, he's in qatar, it's not night over there while I sleep :p

Six days before my birthday and I come here to update my last will. Sure I do have one thing much more interesting to say, but I won't. Not yet, and not in english. So obviously I won't leave Pollo my sandman, and Allan is probably out of the game also (for better reasons).

David: pois, guitar, rubik, papercraft.
Julio: computer-related books, heroscape.
Yorch: scifi books
Julian: language-related books
Jaime: rpg books, munchkin
Padilla: graphic novels (excluding Sandman)
Allan: philosophy books, go books...

Damn, almost all my gifts are books, that tell us something. I wish I had something for ale, monge, diana and so on. I know my friendship with them is much more than mere objects. On the other hand, I hardly ever see yorch, but he is the person who should have my scifi. I guess I could give monge my "Dangerous Ideas", but it feels like cheating. Yes, Karina would receive almost everything else, at this point. (Please don't kill me!) However I don't think my Jared Diamond or Piaget books would be rightly served if Karina has them. Who would play my Fluxx? Well, some other day I will figure this out, for now, it is enough. Life's good.

Pollo nació el 6 de Agosto de 1981 y le costó a su madre un huevo tenerlo. Lo conocí a la tierna edad de 15 años en primero de prepa, que de tierno no tenía nada ese año. La verdad es que no me cayó en gracia desde el principio. La personalidad de pollo siempre ha sido un gusto adquirido. Ya entonces era sarcástico y de humor negro, supongo siempre tuvimos eso en común. El primer recuerdo que tengo de él fue una vez que en bugambilias él traía una camioneta de su padre para pasearnos. Eramos varios y a mi me dejó la cajuela. ¿Por qué yo tenía que ser el único incómodo? Más tarde él me diría que me eligió a mi, porque yo era el que de sus amigos del tec era el menos fijado, el más como él. A ambos nos gustaba la misma niña, bueno, de hecho eramos un buen grupo pero en aquellos tiempos inocentes, todos saber no implicaba nada. Recuerdo una vez que celoso le comentó a la niña que por qué a mi sí me dejaba tocarle la pierna, lo cuál resultó en su primera cachetada. En otra ocasión fastidió tanto a nura que hizo que esta explotara y maldiciera a toda la escuela, algo que por siempre pollo le recordaría. El pollo tenía una excelente memoria. Para el '98 teníamos que elegir a dónde ir de universidad y pollo y david quisieron seguir a juanjo en una nueva carrera. Pollo jamás aceptaría dejarse influenciar por los demás. Le puedes preguntar a luis o angie o a david y 100% de la gente de mi estudio cuidadosamente seleccionado te dirá que pollosatánico era un chico soberbio y modesto. :) Sólo pollo jamás sabrá lo que hubo entre angie y yo.
Pero fue en la carrera cuando en realidad formamos lo que sería nuestra relación. Pollo había tenido que dejar de estudiar (y lo haría por un año). Fue ahí cuando decidí invitarlo a que me acompañara con allan a su casa de horno de microondas con radio integrado. Ahí aprendimos magic y ahí todos conocimos a los Ociosos. Fue ahí cuando pollo roji-blanco provocó que julio se comprará dos cajas de magic. Lo cuál a ambos nos pareció excesivos, en aquellos tiempos de estudihambre. Las tardes mágicas fueron épicas y lo llegué a conocer muy bien mientras andabamos explorando las lejanas tierras de tabachines o escalando los cubos. Mil veces después de ir con david caminabamos hacia el 632. Nuestras rutas eran distintas y ya desde entonces no ibamos para el mismo lado pero yo disfrutaba su compañía y como me retaba. Fue en esos tiempos cuando juntos descubrimos Sandman y montón de cosas. Gracias a pollo soy un día más joven, porque nunca sucedió. Gracias a pollo nunca olvidaré las copas de nada que nunca probé. Ni el tiempo real. Ni el truco de las tres manos. Manzanillo y Vallarta por siempre me recordarán a él.
La verdad es que tengo tantos recuerdos de él, pero él también los tenía de mi. Él me vió cambiar y no me comprendió. En la vida siempre se necesita un amigo que no acepté tu bullshit y él siempre lo fue. A veces con saña, pero siempre recordándome lo que se espera de mi. Tuvimos en un punto un diferencia y pollo ya era todo un IEC. Pero si de algo puedo estar orgulloso es que nunca nos perdimos. Pollo era grande y fuerte y odiaba las injusticias. Me encantaba platicar con él, porque con él podía hablar a mi forma, de tres temas a la vez con referencias obscuras. Creo que sí lo impacté para bien y no tienen idea lo mucho que me importaba cada vez que me decía que estaba orgulloso de mi. Con pollo fui el mejor memo que puedo ser y tmb con él cometí los peores errores que le he hecho a un amigo. Pollo me conoció bien quisiera decir que yo era el que mejor lo conocía, pero yo a él sólo la piel debajo de la armadura. Pollo estuvo ahí la primera vez que invité a salir a karina. No sé cómo le hizo pero pollo estuvo ahí cada capítulo de mi vida. Desde el día de mexworks, hasta el día en que conocimos al antichabelo. Pollo se había hecho la misión de ser mi cronista y le gustaba contarle a la gente que me presentaba alguna anécdota de mi (algunas de las cuales prefería que no las contara) o debatir mi comportamiento con ellos. Pollo siempre estuvo preocupada de ser el más mencionado de mi blog, he was high maintainance that way.
Pollo con su enfermedad no cambió tanto, como yo pienso que lo haría de haber estado en su situación. Ciertamente sí se volvió más cerrado, pero más por motivos de salud que de intención creo yo. Acostumbraba cada cierto tiempo irlo a visitar a su casa, pero aun así a veces llegamos a ir al red pub. Pollo no quería que la gente supiera de su enfermedad y eso me lleva a creer que no querría que describiera mucho esa parte de su vida. Pero pollo al igual que yo, somos contreras y fanáticos de la memoria. Una de las cosas que siempre admiré de él fue su capacidad de ser amigo, de ser un gran amigo. Pollo movió masas con su dolor. La iglesia de bugambilias, el san javier o la terraza de su cuñado pueden certificar que cuando pollo se movía, ahí estabamos todos. Me duele mucho su muerte y quiero pensar, corrijo sé que el supo lo mucho que lo amaba. La vida quiso que no me despidiera de él en su cuarto la última vez pero por fortuna cada vez que lo vi intenté demostrarle lo importante que es para mi. Hoy pollo pasa a formar parte de mi.
Pollo murió el 16 de Diciembre de 2008. Y siempre lo recordaré por la frase que más le gustaba que yo hubiera escrito, "Quiera sea la vida una y buena".

I don't know why. I'm really amused by these dreams. Yes, I know "another one of yours". That would be a perfectly good response. So I apologize for being so repetitive. Anywho, I'm gonna write about it anyway, because I don't know the why of it. I'm usually able to sense where did inspiration came, or why would I dream about X thing. Not this time.
Again, I should recall a certain feature of my dreams. Almost every night for the last, maybe 24 years, maybe more, I have had a "soap opera" in my head. I mean, I have crazy or vanilla dreams as anyone. Then 15 minutes of my prime show. Continuations of previous nights, as a series. So for example I could dream about a casual chat with friends at work. That would take almost all night. I almost always remember my dreams, btw. I would watch even the normal repetitions. You know, scenes repeat a couple of times with little changes each time. I think that's the normal way for everyone to dream. However I have an extra, a little bubble of a continuing dream. Short, Succint and Familiar, it is. I have come to expect it at the end of my dreams. That's how I know its time to wake up or that I haven't sleep enough.
In these dreams, I'm a demon hunter. Some friends say I have read too much RPG. I have had this dream longer than the time I have had these friends, so maybe I don't. Over the years my dreams have got elegance. When I was a child I dreamed about learning about my abilities. As an adolescent I was a fighter. One could think these dreams where just a way for me to cope with insecurities. Be powerful in at least my dreams. That's a typical adolescent wish, I guess. And let us be honest, kids love to dream about having super powers. Who wouldn't dream about a great destiny? Who wouldn't dream about being a knight? A hero?
Maybe that's why this post is so defensive. I'm worried about who might read this. On the other hand, if I want my kids to read my true self, I need to take the risk. I know myself. If I don't post this, I will lost the document. Anyway Memo, keep writing.
These dreams were great, until the moment I became an atheist. You can see there was an struggle. People wish there was magic in this world. Real magic. On one hand I was for the first time being 100% honest to the evidence; and in the other, my inner dreamer wanted to continue with the adventure. I made a truce. Dream whatever you want, but when you wake up, realize no matter how much it would be great for that to exist, it won't. I know how self-absorbed and plain silly all this sounds. You know kids. We love drama. We love epic. Anyway, that's how it went.
I grew in powers, skill and even in my dreams I had fame among demons. I don't recall when, but one day I decided that hunting in the streets wasn't enough. That day I crossed the line. I became rogue. Maybe my atheist part told me that there was no point in believing in angels. Anyway, I went to hell. Instead of fighting intruders, now I was moving the fight to their side. Once or twice I attempted to be a silent assassin. Killing big fishes and all that. I learned it was better to be a show off. It scared them more. So I became a plague, leaving entire kingdoms empty. Again, I don't know when, but one day I decided that I could be more powerful if I could eat their power. Only I didn't want to be taint. That's when I went to heaven. I found a way to purify their flesh by burning them up there. Of course, most of the power was gone once purified but I grew nonetheless. That went well for maybe two years. Until I decided that maybe there's a reason for demons to exist. I could hunt them all, but what would be gained? That's when I truly went neutral.
For two weeks or so I stopped dreaming about that second life. As if part of me had realized there was no point on doing that anymore. However, I'm used to it, so I became wary. People fear change, I guess, even if it is for the better. I suppose there's a part of me who tries to do something useful even when dreaming. Maybe that's why I constructed that imaginary world. Eventually, I returned to my adventures, but they were a bit dull. I decided to stop fighting in hell and be happy with my city being safe. That's when I had the last dream I talked about in this blog. As with any good series, I have arcs, I have enemies, regular cast, etc. I don't dream of god so often these days. I don't complain.
Then, two weeks ago, I had a strange dream. I hate the word "strange" because I have used it up so many times. My dreams routine is being different than the previous but in line with them. As if an ever expanding universe. I dreamed about being in charge of bringing the Apocalypse. Well, not really. When the dream started I had already resigned that position. I mean, the dream background (you know, when you dream, you already know tons of things so that the story isn't so slow) was that about a month before an angel told me to start packing the world. Find the worthy and bring havoc to the rest. For a while I rode along four horsemen bringing desolation and the usual things. It was fun, let me tell you. However a good friend, david stopped me. He asked me to be rational. I found out that this angel had attempted it several times through history. Even more, the same night he told me my mission, he went with seven more telling the same story. All of them with some kind of power. :@ Stupid me. Of course I returned the horsemen to their traps, I mean, sanctuaries. That's when the dream started. Imagine dreaming about telling the world "I'm sorry for bringing brimstone to all of you. I'm really sorry I shouldn't be so eager to follow angels. Please excuse me." Imagine returning to your family, your friends, your work and all of them know perfectly well how near it was.
You do have the power to raise mountains or sink the moon, but what does it matter when all the people you know, know you were about to bring the end to the world. I'm still ashamed of that action. In a meta-commentary, I do love my subconscious mind for this terrific twist. Now that I'm thinking it, why have I not attempted to hunt this angel??
Anyway, that day I woke up with much urgency to write the dream in this place. Yet I told myself, stop bitching about your super duper dream. No one cares. "I do" I promptly answered. "Well yes, but you always do. At least when you dream anything better than a blip." Note to the reader: I have categorized my dreams by the same metric as some do for ghosts. Blips are "anyone could have dream that". For example, the "Oh no, I didn't study for the test!" Drones are one level below "you are wasting your time dreaming about these things." For example, "You are working" or "You are watching TV" or "You are in the cafeteria".
Tonight I got another one.
That's why I'm here, writing this stuff. Because I can't keep it to me. A little voice says "aha! just as I tell you, this new dream season is pushing for rating!" So what do little memo dreamed now? I dreamed that I went back to having a "normal" life. People continued with their lives. A few became fans. Some went further and thought of myself as a messiah. I always told them that I am not. However maybe me curing the blind, sick and pretty much anyone who asks may have washed my argument. When all settled down, I was foolish enough to try to fix the world. I felt I was in debt for trying to destroy it. So I assumed the form of a demon, Balthazar, and gave the people a common enemy. I refrained myself of anything mighty. Once I brought an earthquake but that was the limit. My plan was to show the people that there are bad things in this world, but that joining forces normal people could hunt demons. Ok, that didn't went well. At first it did, but when you have two hundred people hunting you, they become a mob. I tried to fight the mob mentality. The angrier person I could see, I possess him (again trying to act like a demon). I wanted to show them that being irrational wouldn't be effective. However all that my plan brought was more fear. They killed the possessed man, thinking that would hurt the demon. :S They pushed it from the fourth floor. We died.
In several dreams, at least since secondary I have died. In thousands of ways. Yet more than anything I have died from height. That's why I learned to fly very soon. I hate dying because it hurts, all becomes dizzy and then fuzzy. I could have flight, but I knew that wouldn't accomplish anything to my plan. Ok, maybe I could have saved the life of an innocent. :S This time, I watched the body and saw how my spirit raised. I was thinking what to do next, when Death touched my spiritual shoulder. "What's up?" I said, having talked with him several times. I thought we was coming for the poor guy. In a very Terry Pratchet way, it turns out, there's a special Death role for situations like this. Who would have imagined that there's a clause that you die for real if you kill an innocent while dying? Death, is a nice guy, even when using his funny hat for this special occasion. He gave me 24 hours to close my business. I was a ghost now, but at least I had the power to manifest myself and do pretty much anything that doesn't require a body. My first closure act was to raise the innocent guy. Which unfortunately brought the messiah thing back into the table. Raising from the dead, isn't so difficult people, it's just not proper. It is rude. These souls normally go to a better place, and bringing them back isn't merry. So that's when I sit down and said to myself. Maybe it is for the better me dying. All I do is unnatural. Even when I try to fix my mess, all I do is fuck it more. However my fans had grew powerful themselves. They had learn tricks from following me, at least. Even when I didn't materialize, they could sense me. And follow me. They were avid to see me return to life on the third day! Damn it. I couldn't see them in the face. I was to dye, for good, this time. However the more silent I became, the more anxious my friends went. As if waiting for something... from them! Somehow they spread the word and people start showing up. That's when I decide to run and find myself a quiet spot. However in my rush to escape attention I only get more. Wherever I go, people can sense me and my magic. Like if I were a beacon of hope or something like that. They can feel something strange is happening. As soon as I stop I can see it for myself, I'm changing. I'm flickering. The moment is coming. I materialize myself, knowing it is the last time. "I love you all. Thanks for everything." All the people I care are there. In fact I can see all the people that exist at once. Then I burst. A warm light wave swifts the world. Like a big hug. When the "dust" falls all the people hear a song. I can't describe it as I have never heard anything like that. I know it is my true name and now I'm with everything. "Is this Nirvana?" Oops, I failed again. As soon as I had this conscious thought, I'm back. Stupid Memo! That was your perfect end. I'm still nowhere, but not really non existent :S However all is clear now, crystal clear. People who don't go Nirvana, normally go either to heaven or hell, yet people like me, atheist, don't follow that scheme. My option is backstage. I'm there, but I can't act in anyway. I can indulge in having a form if I wish so. It sounds familiar, so I get my old, normal shape. Now I walk behind the world, seeing all as it really is. I can see why others could think of this as a living hell. I don't. After a time I stop moving through places. I start meditating. All places are really the same, so I'm there the next year. People are gathering at the place I went nova. People are praying. That breaks my slumber. I recognize some faces. Some psychics are trying to read a footprint of my farewell. Buddhist monks tell the people that I am Buddha. Psychics confirm that I passed above phase, whatever that means. Of course, these psychics were bullshit, because now in this backstage all makes sense, so you can detect lies or nonsense by simply not making sense. However Buddhists made the bell ring. I was this close. Damn it. There's some sort of metric that when an enlighten goes, it leaves behind an ethereal flower. I can see it. Though before this talk I didn't look at it. When Siddharta went, it was a 110 petal flower. The Buddhist continue lecturing us about these flowers. Me, I got 30. The petals are a mark of how fit you were to be how it is supposed to be. That means that there's a threshold to ascend. Nice.
That's when I think, well I should keep meditating, I will be, in no time. Then my former friends start with the music. Each of them start telling how much they miss me. Fuck! I think at the same time I think "I wish I could be there for them."
A sharp light manifests, just above my "tomb". "No no no!" I yell. Fighting the reality torrent. Karma is a bitch. I'm back. "Hopefully you have learn something." I say to myself in a low voice. The crowd looks amazed. "Why am I in white robes?" I say in a voice that maybe they can hear. "Tell me you won't start yet another religion."
"I guess I can't avoid it."
The end. In a true Hollywood fashion, normal dreams are interleaved with the closure of this. I can see where this could go, but that would be another episode.