Pesadillas

Saturday night I went to Antigua with one of my housemates. In a new Jetta, from the decaying centre of Guatemala City to the historic, and well-maintained, plaza of Antigua. We walked around the park at dark, and ate in a lovely restaurant that used to be a funeral parlor. My housemate’s grandfather was laid out there. On the drive back, cresting the hill that separates the old capital from the new, it rained, hard. The road was dark, and the tinted* windows made it seem darker. I felt safe, and dry, and warm, driving fast on the curves of the highway.

I slept fitfully though, with my recurrent memory nightmare that’s plagued me since the very end of May. Or earlier than that perhaps. In the middle of the night I felt something brush the side of my cheek, trace a trail from my temple downwards. In the morning, when I woke up, a column of miniature ants walked alongside my pillow.

*Almost everyone has darkly tinted windows here, which is against Guatemalan law. The idea is that if others can’t see in your car, they won’t be able to tell whether or not you’re carrying weapons. The absurd thing is that during the day most people drive with their windows rolled down anyways.