Dream of: 06 July 1996 "Está Vivo"
As Carolina and I were walking through the crowded halls of a large government building, I noticed that many people in the building were dressed in black, and I realized a funeral was taking place. I thought the funeral must be for some important personage in the government.
Continuing along the hall, I could hardly believe who I saw walking toward me: a tall imposing woman dressed in an impeccable black dress, a woman whom I recognized as a Justice on the United States Supreme Court. She looked just like Janet Reno (attorney general for the United States). I quickly pointed her out to Carolina. The Justice was followed by two other shorter women, whom I also recognized as Justices of the United States Supreme Court. The other two weren't nearly as imposing as the first woman. The other two were probably in their late 50s. Both were portly and had graying hair. Each was wearing a black robe with pleats about an inch wide which ran vertically up and down the entire fronts of their robes.
My attention was suddenly drawn to my right to a line of people which entered a door of one room, wound back out into the hall, and then back into a second room. The second room had no wall separating it from the hallway, so that it was completely open to view. And there I saw where the line of people ended: in front of a bier holding a coffin. I quickly told Carolina that this must be the room where the man who had killed himself was ?lying in state?.
For now I thought I knew who the man was. I recalled having heard about a recent suicide by a high-ranking member of the navy. I had even seen pictures of the man in magazines and on the television news. But as we walked closer to the coffin, I saw that the man didn't look at all like the man I remembered. This man looked as if he were a thin, light–skinned Negro. He had a splotchy beard and mustache. But as I drew even closer, he didn't look like that either. Instead he looked like a young Hispanic man in his early twenties. He was a stout fellow with dark black hair, dressed in a very light blue suit.
I also noticed that all the people who were waiting in line seemed Hispanic. I thought this must be the time when the masses were allowed to view the body, and for some reason, Hispanics had a special interest in this man. I was now standing about thee meters from the coffin, and a young Hispanic woman was standing on my left. A small boy was standing at the foot of the coffin.
As I stood there, something peculiar caught my attention: I noticed a slight movement of the body in the coffin. I thought I saw one leg slightly jerk, and I noticed the face twitch. I thought that seemed strange, but concluded it must just be the nerves of the dead body. But the movements continued and became more pronounced, until finally I noticed that the dead man's eyes were open. I looked at the other people standing around me and saw that no one was saying anything. I also hesitated, but finally I could refrain no longer and I cried out, "Está vivo!"
The young Hispanic woman next to me had apparently also been watching the movements of the body. She appeared to be so astounded that she hadn't known what to say. But now she also began calling out and soon others were echoing the cry.
I moved closer to the body until I was able to touch the dead man's hand. I wanted to see if it was warm, and when I touched it, I felt that the hand was warm, that the man was alive. I wanted to holler out in Spanish that the hand was warm, but I couldn't remember the word for "warm" in Spanish. Nevertheless I hollered out something to the effect that the hand was warm, and other people rushed up to the body. They helped the man from the coffin and set him on his wobbly feet. I hollered out that we needed a "medico." I thought there surely must be a doctor in a crowd of so many people, and in a few seconds, a tall man – taller than I – carrying a black bag walked up and announced that he was a doctor.
The man was probably in his early fifties. He had thinning black hair and a pronounced aquiline nose. As he walked toward the revived man, I immediately became suspicious of the doctor. I wondered if this could possibly be the very same doctor who had pronounced the Hispanic man dead. I had the feeling that the doctor had appeared so quickly because he worked right there in a back room of the building. If this was the doctor who had pronounced the man dead, I thought that the grossest sort of negligence had occurred. For one thing it was clear that the body hadn't been handled properly because a dead body is supposed to have the blood drained out of it. The fact that the Hispanic man was still alive showed that the blood hadn't been drained from the body, further proof of the most unthinkable sort of negligence.
As the doctor began to examine the Hispanic man, I walked up to him and confronted him. I asked him if he was the doctor who had pronounced the man dead. It was immediately clear that he was indeed the doctor who had pronounced the man dead. But he tried to defend himself and deny his culpability. A short verbal confrontation ensued between me and the man, until he abruptly broke it off and walked away to the next room.
I stood there a moment in doubt, until I realized I couldn't let the doctor get away. I rushed to the next room, shouting at the other people to apprehend the doctor. The doctor tried to escape and jumped up onto a chair, until I and some other people pulled him down. The sound of the crowd now was angry and ugly. I was also angry. Not only had the doctor failed in his duty, but he was now trying to escape.
I could tell that the crowd was so enflamed that it might try to lynch the doctor. I thought of actually going along with such a lynching. I knew I had never taken part in such a thing, and something inside me told me that no matter what the doctor had done, it wouldn't be right to lynch him. Yet I felt that I might not try to intervene to stop the others if they tried to lynch the doctor. The lynching seemed unjust, but I thought I wouldn't stop it.
Copyright 2001 by luciddreamer2k@gmail.com
