A child … covered with blood.. his head deformed.. someone; his father perhaps, is carrying him on hands. Everything happens so fast that I have no chance to even ask myself what are they doing in my house. The man is running, taking him to a doctor or something... I watch them from inside until both get out of the window frame.. I know he is not going to make it….

….It’s dark, inside and outside.. two or three hours after midnight. I’m on the couch, trying to get to sleep. I don’t remember the child and that what happened a few minutes ago…. what’s this voice?...like some one is crying .. I follow the voice, searching in the air with my hands.. find her now.. covering her face with her hands, she is trembling and saying words I can’t hear..
-I don’t …want .....
now she tries to open the door...
-what are you doing mom? It’s dangerous out there! Do you know what's the time?
-I’m going… I don…’t..want….. to.. be here..anymore.



It’s still dark when I open my eyes.. it must be almost 5 hours after I went to bed.. the next two or three seconds these thoughts pass through my head; I’m in the bed... no body is covered with blood and no one is crying in the darkness…





Bad Dreams; oil on canvas; by Amelia Santiago