Dreams flow across the heartland
Feeding on the fires
Dreams transport desires
Drive you when you're down
Dreams transport the ones who need to get out of town
The more time I spend in Ecuador, the more I feel like a criminal who has been sentenced to two years of community service. In fact, I am even beginning to take on the look and aura of a hardened criminal -- I have cut my shaving down to once per week, so I am almost always sporting a perpetual 5 O’clock shadow; I have lost around 15 pounds since I started serving time, due to illness and the lack of variety of food in the area; my hair has taken on a greasy sheen, since I rarely wash it in order to conserve on shampoo; my clothing is in a shambles; I often perform hard labor by planting trees, cutting down the 3 foot-high vegetation in my back yard with a machete; and chopping my way through the rainforest in order to collect seeds. Finally, my love life (and sex life, for that matter) is completely on hold. I haven´t had sex once here in Ecuador!
What do prisoners do when they are deprived of their normal freedoms, choices and pleasures? In Supernova´s case? I have sought escape in my dreams. By faithfully keeping a daily journal of my nightly dreams, I have entered into a spectacular nether-world of flight, abundant foods, sexual fantasy and romance, and incredible journeys to other universes, all through the power of my dreams. My dreams have taken on an intense lucidity like never before, powerful images of home and friends, often filled with significant messages about this life and beyond. I truly look forward to dreaming at night, and experience them as if they were a vacation away from this physical plane of existence.
But you know what? The more time I spend in Ecuador, the more I realize I really don´t have it so hard compared to my Ecuadorian friends and neighbors. A lot of kids in my village don´t go to school because their parents don´t have the money to pay for their education. And a significant number of people are malnurished.
Lately, a couple of Ecuadorian sisters have been visiting me (see picture entitled “Adorable Ecuadorian Girls” in the “Distant Early Warning” journal). One evening while they were coloring in some coloring books I lent them, I asked them what they had for lunch that day.
The older girl replied, “Rice and potatoes.”
Then I asked, “What did you have for dinner?”
“Rice and potatoes”, was the answer.
"Are there times when there´s no food in the house,?” I pursued.
"Yes, sometimes we have no food. My father was stabbed and can´t work very well, and our mother doesn´t live with us. Sometimes we go to bed with no dinner.” she said, pitifully.
Neither of the two girls, who are 8 and 9 years old, study because their father hasn´t the money. Due to malnutrition, the 8 year old looks like she´s five.
I asked the two girls if they were hungry at that moment, and they both nodded their heads. Then I asked them if they wanted some food, and the older one replied timidly, head bowed down, “if you want to give us some.”
I felt bad for them. I bought and prepared food, and watched them inhale eggs, bread with peanut butter, oranges and milk. They both ravenously devoured the food as if they hadn´t eaten for days. And just yesterday, they came over for oranges and soymilk.
When I complain to myself about how hard my life is down here, all I need to recall are those two little girls, and I realize how I´ve got it pretty good after all, especially when I´m dreaming.
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