It's 7.25 am. (Perdonad los españoles, esto tiene que ser en inglés)
I can't sleep any more. I've been dreaming, recreating in my mind feelings that shakes the foundation of this human being.
I was in the air. Not sure if in a helicopter but I had a cenital view. Under me, a kind of a huge outdoor sea cost shaped pool in which, in different booths, like in a trade fair, different exhibitions were taking place. I think it was something about surfing and on board cameras...God knows
Suddenly, I saw myself on the ground. I feel like I was then actually walking around the exhibition, an strange one. It was outdoors and it was gray, far from the colourful real ones.
And then that dark corner. I was in the middle of a street it that looked poor, it looked like a street in Thailand or something like that. I had left behind the helicopter view of a colourful, bright and sunny Florida style coastal exhibition.
That was a gray and old street with those pedestrian areas covered by some kind of cheap roofing to prevent working class people from the daily Caribbean rain and to allow more and more people to live above in a very crowd street. The street actually look very similar to the low section of Calle real in Almería..., I'm now realising.
Peter was there. But the tall man had become much shorter. He was wearing shorts as well. His knees looked wrinkled.
I walked closer but before I arrive, a small lady with kids stopped by, like when you stop in a show booth to see what they sell. But there was nothing to sell, just Peter standing longside a small TV on a pedestal. I got closer. Peter was making the gesture of praying to the lady, like saying, 'yes, this booth is about praying for them'. But praying to who?
In the screen you could see footage of a beautiful old English lady with blonde hair and stylish figure. There were two little girls with her. One older than the other one. They might be around 4 and 7 years old.
I was close, almost behind that lady looking at the TV. Then, my biological mother whispered in my ears... 'Yes, one of the little girls also died, she also had 'a little' (cancer, she didn't mentioned it but I knew it) in her finger... Can't belive how strange dreams can become.
Then the whole scenery moved. We all went like to the other side of the building under which all of that pedestrian was. A very wide area this time, Asphalted. Very wide like the out gate entrance of Buckingham Palace. There was a couple of buses but not close to us, it was a clear space in between the TV set, Peter, me and the buses in distance. It has started raining. It was all gray. I had a rain coat on that me that I didn't had before.
I started crying. I started crying like an avalanche. Peter was standing with a sad face near the TV screen. It looked at me once, very briefly, and his face turned into tears aswell. 'The toughest' man in the world, the man that turned his friendship away from me after all, couldn't stop and retain himself in such a dramatic and truly horrible demonstration of love I was showing by losing myself crying in that middle of the rain.
He didn't say anything. He walked away a few meters towards the buses with his back facing me.
I started losing the control, I cried louder and ran to the center of the street falling down in the middle of the rain. I couldn't breath. I needed it help. I was choking on my sadness...
Then I woke up and felt all the weight of the reality of the meaning of that dream. Or was it a nightmare?
When Dave gave me the news a few days ago I felt bad, very bad, but politically correct, although I was sure that it wasn't going to be all. And it all came out in such an unconscious but truly real manner this last night. All the devastation and sadness for losing someone you loved. Someone unique, someone special. Someone who loved me...
I hardly can keep going... But I'll finish this.
Lorraine adopted me as a son every early summer I used to popped up there. Lorraine loved me almost from the very first time I stepped in her house in Ramsey for those unforgettable TT fortnights. I'm crying. I feel pain like when I lost my father not long ago...
I needed it to spread this out. I needed to cry it loud. I hope you understand It.
She was great when that word means something outstanding. I won't probably see ever again such a combination of physical beauty with that one that goes beyond anything human senses can feel.
I would have liked to have done much more for you Lorraine. I truly would. I remember that day last day of me in the island after the TT fortnight when I drove my car all the way down to the other side of Man as I couldn't dare myself to leave the island without having again the opportunity to hug my English Mom. Unfortunately, she had gone to Liverpool that day and I just only could spend the morning talking to Sara about her... Not knowing that was going to be the last time I was going to 'see' her.
You know, Lorraine?. Due to the sadness I've been through lately I got addicted to listen to a song I'm now going to give meaning to... You'll be the candle in the wind that hopefully guides me through.
'I don't do mornings, Antonio' she used to tell me... Me neither, Lorraine, me neither...
I won't ever forget you. Will try to do it not crying, but happy as you taught me to be against all of the difficulties.
Not perfect, but always yours.