Salsa Dreams

 

“I speak from experience when I tell you that sometimes we don’t truly comprehend how unanswered questions torment us, until there is a mystery to solve. For, after all, how can a narwhal swim if there is no salsa to be eaten?” One of the kids asked. This was my after school group for advance students.

“THIS is one of the mysteries of the universe that have baffled scientist for years.” Another one responded.  Thinking about this question blows my mind knowing that looking for the answer will draw a blank.

“Then how will we answer this question?” Someone else asked.

 “Probably will take a thirteen year old mind to unravel this mystery, no doubt!” I said to end the group session for the night.

“Teenagers seem to grow smarter and smarter with each generation and they seem to know things that we adults can't seem to figure out.” I thought about all that, as I headed to the closest mall to purchase some items.

 The mall was where most teens hang out. Oh boy, I hope my after school group isn’t there. I don't want them to think I'm following them, like a creep or something, I thought to myself as I drove there.   I tuned on my car's radio to one of my favorite station, only to hear the tinny blare of some synthesized 12-year-old; I was puzzled until I remembered that the old station was replaced last week with a new, more modern one.

 "Of course," I muttered under my breath, feeling the heat of dislike boiling in my stomach.

  I realized then that I hated kids, and what's more.  I hated that as a teacher, I’m plagued with questions only a highly caffeinated, materialistic, pubescent mind could answer.  Kids think they own the world; that everyone should listen to them or answer their questions.  Why ask me about Stupid Narwhals!

 Once I pulled into the crowded parking lot, I felt my hatred growing.   I had to drive slowly in search for an empty parking space because of all the stupid cars which probably belonged to my newly found enemies. I wanted to pull my hair out because of the anger filling my thoughts.

 After nearly six minutes of searching and finding nothing, I was fed-up. So I decided to park my Rubicon on a Moped in a handicap space. "Aw, man, not again," I muttered under my breath. I had just put the car in park and took a step out of the car, when some horrible flashback of that song Quadrophenia flashed before my mind's eye. Little black spots danced before my eyes, and then I blacked out.

 

When I came to, I noticed that a group of fourteen or fifteen teenagers walking past me. They were staring at me as if I had commented a crime.

 One of them took the time to stop. He stood over me, smiling and asked, "Did you eat your salsa today?"

“What?”

 "NO BODY ASKED YOU, KID!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, drawing more strange looks from others in the parking lot.  I admit that it wasn't exactly something to blurt out in anger but I didn't want any nosy little brat talking to mein a sarcastic tone.

Then I thought, "Salsa? What is this about salsa again?"

 Of course, I remembered, it all tied back to that stupid question about Narwhals.

  I lay there a moment recalling a history lesson; Narwhals were what folks years ago thought were unicorns swimming in the ocean. I kind of laughed to myself at the thought, as I stood.  In a way it sounded ridiculous, I mean unicorns, come on. Then I began to laugh harder getting back in the car.

 

 

...

 

Someone had called the police. They arrived to deal with reports of a lunatic who was crashing into cars and yelling at people. “They said he was ranting about salsa and narwhals, while laughing maniacally,” an officer said. He stood near the entrance of Walmart asking people if they saw or heard anything. “Have you seen anyone like that sir?” I told them I hadn't seen anyone matching that description and walked inside.

 Long story short, I see Dr. Alderman, for an hour Monday through Friday and on the weekends. I don't like to tell anyone this but he's my therapist. Apparently I'm strange or loony, something like that and need to see him daily to talk about my problems.  He prescribes medicine which is supposed to keep me from blanking out and doing stupid stuff like crashing into cars.

***

  Somehow I found myself back at the car, I was lying where I fell, doing nothing like some weirdo. I got up and reached for my phone to call Dr. Alderman. “It happened again,” I said when he answered the phone.

I feel better now that I’ve talked to Dr. Alderman. He said I should go buy some Salsa for my Narwhal. Or was that Dr. Alderman's teenaged son who told me that? That boy was always joking around. Where did I park that car again? All of this was making my head hurt.

I suddenly found myself back in Walmart.  Confused, I ran out when I heard someone yelling, "There goes Mrs. Narwhal's son again."

I stopped in my tracks outside the store. I was mixed-up, as I looked around trying to figure out what was going on. One minute I was at the mall then I was talking to Dr. Alderman or his son and now I’m running out of Walmart. What's going? I thought.

I vaguely remembered a hospital, hearing screams and electroshock therapy coming from the next room. There were hushed, muffled voices of the Machiavellian doctors discussing how they could rewire the brains of their patients. Surely that had to have been a dream.

Slowly the world at the edges of my vision tore. It continued to rip apart until I found myself strapped in a chair inside a gray room with no windows.The people I could see in front of me spoke nonsense, but the voices from just out of my field of vision made too much sense.

"This one isn't responding to the treatments. It might be time to terminate."

'Terminate?' I thought. 'Death, I better get out of here, but how?”

 I began to remember everything, but slowly, that happened which got me put in here.

 "Narwhal...my family name? Salsa...food or dance? Am I crazy or is it the world? So many questions I asked myself as I bolted out the door of that institution. I was unsure how I got out of that chair as I ran passed buildings full of dolls, stores selling toy cars. I ran all the way to the sandy shore.

 My questions were answered I think, as I began a Latin dance on the unfamiliar sea shore while watching unicorns play in the waves of the open sea. I was home at last!

 I turned around at a sudden popping sound and everything I thought was normal, the building, the stores even the institution was gone. Free at last!

 "FINALLY I'M FREE!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "I'M FREE!"

 "No," a voice said, "you're coming with me." The woman approaching me would have been prettier if not for her serious expression. She wore a white dress and black shoes, with each step she took; she got closer and closer, until she was too close. She reached out to touch me but I backed away.

"I'd rather be free," I said calmly, "Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose." Then I grabbed her and tossed her to the narwhals/unicorn. I watched as one let her mount it and she yelled, "Eat your salsa!" That was the last of her as the Narwhals dove into a huge wave.  I smiled and went back to dancing.

 While I danced a cute, but rather obnoxious little girl, who looked to be about 5 or 6 years old, pulled gently on my pant leg. "That was mean, why did you have to be so mean to my auntie?" She asked.

 I looked down at the young child and sighed. "Your auntie was trying to boss me around so I couldn't resist but next time I'll try to be nicer about it okay," I told the child, trying to keep a calm soothing tone.

 She promptly kicked me in the shins and ran away giggling.

 "Ow.... That little brat," I muttered under my breath.

 All at once a great Tidal wave of narwhal/unicorns crashed onto the shore. Riding the lead Unicorn was the little girl’s Auntie.  "But that is MY aunt!" I cried.  If this is my Auntie, then who was that nasty little girl? I mused.  She said that this was her Aunt.

I thought a moment. That means we have to be cousins. No! That can't be. I don't have any Uncles, and that is my only Aunt and she doesn’t have any children. That could only mean one thing. That nasty little girl is my...my sister.

 "NOOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed, coming to the realization that I have a sister. 'My little sister,' I thought, 'how can this be? I need to talk to mom and dad about this.'

 Mom and dad...Yes...Mr. and Mrs. Narwhal...Oh Gosh!!!

“How big is this Narwhal family anyway? Do I have any more sisters or brothers? If I do I hope they are nicer than this one,” I said watching my sister dance in the sand with our Auntie.

 Guess I should eat my Salsa and think it over, and I don't even like Salsa. 'Which brings me to the same question that started all of this... How can a narwhal swim if there is no salsa? Wait...I didn’t ask that question, does that mean... does that mean that I'm a.... No, it can't be... That's just ridiculous. Or is it?' I blocked out the notion that I was a kid.

 ***

Am I the only Narwhal in the family that doesn't like salsa? I pondered watching my sister and Auntie seating at a table eating Salsa.  Is that why they put me in that institution, Mom and Dad, my sister and auntie, all my brothers and sisters if I have any more? It's all coming back to me now.

It was Hot Salsa Day at the Unicorn Riding Academy, and the Narwhal family was hosting the event. It was my responsibility to get the Salsa.  I only got Mild Chunky Salsa which disgraced the whole family.

That is when they decided to put me in an institution to treat my Hotsalsaphobia. Although I like it here on the shore, I should run away while I have a chance so that they can't place me back into that institution.

 Suddenly I hear knocking on a door, when I turn around to find out where it was coming from.  I find that I’m inside a tube of Salsa in a white room.  The voice on the other side of the door said, "Wake up Mr. Narwhal; it's time for your next treatment."

NOOOOOOOOOO! I'm still here in the institution.

It’s called desensitizing, I’m told, it’s a treatment to help me overcome my fears. I know hot salsa can't hurt me, but it still scares the bejeebies out of me. Why do they have to make me swim in the stuff?

The door opened and a woman with shoulder length blonde hair walked in with a tray covered with jars of more salsa; followed by another pretty female nurse. I bowed my head in disappointment. The first woman placed the tray down on the small little silver table as the second one helped to pull me to my feet. I sighed, knowing that there was no way of escape as the nurses helped me to the bed.

Though the door window I looked out into the stark grey hallway and saw my wife, Rosita, grinning sadistically at me.

'How could she let this happen to me?' I thought to myself no longer confused.

I'm married to the Salsa Queen; she put me in here, not my family.

How was I to know I was a Hotsalsaphobic, I didn't even know what salsa was until I married this Mexican girl.

Turns out she inherited one of the largest salsa companies in the world. She wanted to change the name to Narwhal Salsa; until she realized I was afraid of the stuff. Now it seems she will stop at nothing to make me the poster boy for the hottest salsa in the world.

Finally it all came together, my phobia and the high doses of hot salsa brought about these weird hallucinations.

***

 One of the nicer nurses said I was greatly improving and of course, she was lying.   I remember with instant-long flashes the terrors that gripped me in the night. PTSD would be paradise compared to the nightly sessions of gore and horror that ravaged the wasteland of my subconscious each time I fell asleep.

Just last night, a countless number of crimson peppers thundered down from the sky. There were massive ones the size of cargo ships which soared amongst the ominous thunder-clouds like waxy zeppelins. Habaneros cruised down city streets like taxis, carrying their peppery passengers, and jalapenos marched in large, uniform groups like spicy soldiers. And they were all after me.

A particularly sentient jalapeno, Commander Lopez, wobbled up to me.

"Serrendarr ah wance, amiho!" He spoke with a thick, Puerto Rican accent. Though he had no mouth or un-pepper like features to speak of save for his hat and medals. I could feel the sounds emanating from deep within his evil being.

I opened my mouth to protest, but let out a shrill scream instead. He had blasted my face with pepper spray, burning my eyes, nose, and mouth. Pain seared through my entire skull as tears streamed down my face. My impulsive caterwauling attracted the attention of the behemoth Ghost Pepper.

Standing at about 50 meters tall, its perilous orange hue lit up the dark and stormy fields with its brightness. Its pepper-steps pounded the ground so hard I felt the ground shake as it stormed towards me, and I could feel its murderous breath like a burning, sweltering wind as it towered over my head, dripping juice so strong it burnt the grass around me.

 

It had been about two and a half years since the nuclear reactor meltdown in Fukushima, but I could still remember the chilling images of mutated plant and animal growth, one of which being this "Pepperzilla" He was just an unfortunate victim of genetic manipulation due to radiation.

 

When I woke a lovely nurse with big green eyes stared down at me. She said, "This probably was the worst, but it was your last session Mr. Narwhal. You are now completely cured of your morbid fear of hot salsa." She said this with a wink, before turning into a unicorn. Then she jumped through the wall and disappeared from view.

 

***

 

It was then that I realized I was still in the dream. This time I was standing in a lab full of test tubes and Petri plates.  I was a scientist trying to figure out the chemical makeup of salsa, and the swimming ability of Narwhals. “Great, he came again!” I said, looking in the microscope. It was a miniature of my home, I watched as a man, me, went into the refrigerator, removed a bowl of salsa, and began to eat it with chips. “Every day I tell him to go away, but he's never there to hear me. Only when I'm concentrating on a vital task, like driving or looking through a microscope, can I hear him screaming insults and nonsensical slurs in my head?”  I raised my head to stare at me, “Time to wake up Saul.”

  I woke with a start, sweating. It stuck my shirt to my skin and beaded down my face. I quickly looked around the room and I realized I was in our bed. I exhaled relieved wiping away sweat. 'That nightmare didn't help me much. I still DO NOT like salsa or kids...' I thought sitting up in bed.

I looked next to me at my sleeping wife. I shook my head watching her sleeping in peace, wondering what she was dreaming about. Something serene I thought as I got up to put on my robe. I tried to ignore the whispers of those dreams going on in my head. I went to the medicine cabinet and took out the pink bottle to calm my stomach, so I could prepare for the school day. Then I went downstairs to make coffee.

"What's wrong with you? Looks like you had a rough night," my wife asked, as she entered the kitchen.

When I told her about the multiple nightmares, Rosita laughed and said, “I did warn you about not having my hot salsa just before bedtime...didn't I? You never learn, do you?"

I shook my head and laughed at her comment. “I don’t like salsa Rosita, I told you that.” But of course I had eaten half a bowl.

She kissed me and smiled "Saul, just admit it, salsa just doesn’t like you."

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 26.10.2013

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