Watch my World Dissolve

Posted by Otto Robba in Prose on 13. Aug, 2009 | No Comments

I woke up dazed by my dreams. They spoke to me directly, knowingly bringing subjects about which I had just thought. The dreams didn’t want to let me forget, forgive, they brought memories and feelings I can only loosely describe as scary. What follows is the tale I dreamt of.

In what seemed to be a preparation for a party, a group of people gathered in my apartment. Some where in the kitchen, preparing a cake, woven from wide chocolate stripes, being prepared just like woven baskets are. It was symbolizing a horse and I know there was a rider in the imagery but I get confused and cannot recall exactly where the rider was. A college friend was there, someone whose friend I developed a crush on. As I moved deeper into my apartment, I saw that girl for whom I had a crush, let’s call her A. The one that makes your heart race and your head spin. That kind of girl. She knew how to push my buttons but I moved towards her to end things. I sat with her and another girl nearby, whom I will call J, and wrote a goodbye letter. And a love letter. To her, it was the goodbye letter, to the other girl in the room, it was the love letter. I printed it out and tried to give it to her but J took it from my hands. As I tried to speak, to break up with A, she started to try and tell me of her affection, showing me a hand-sewed bag, adorned with images and mementos in my honor. They spoke of wolfs, birth, motherhood, love and war. It moved me and I don’t even know precisely why, because one should not need a bag with painting decals to make the other know what the hell is going on. As she showed me this, J, who I’ve always liked, stared at me, jealous. She looked very different from what I know she looks like but… it was her. I took the letter out of her hands, worried that that would ruin my relationship with A. I ripped the letter apart, asking J how far had she read it and she only replied “As far as the other name appears.”. I knew she had read the title of the love letter that I wrote for herself. I continued tearing the paper apart, taking it to a trash bin… and all the time, J stared at me. There she was, in the hallways, looking at me. Hiding secrets. Girl A was nowhere to be found after that and I looked at the ripped letter in my hands, it had turned into dough, as in, pizza dough. I looked around trying to understand what was happening but… there was no sense to be made out of it.
The more I think of it, the less I like this dream. It remembers me of funerals, as if I was the one dying. Or were I already dead?

I can’t shake the feeling of this dream away and how awful I feel right now. I feel betrayed, lost in a maze of shadows. I feel… a bit dead. And I have yet to see someone understand that.

The Florist

Posted by Otto Robba in Prose on 29. Jul, 2009 | 1 Comment

I always found it funny that girls can’t give boys flowers. People found it funny, that I didn’s see why things were that way. Sure, as a gentleman, I understand the concept of gifts, I like giving them, I like the smiles I see. Still… why would it ever be wrong for a girl to give me flowers? I have no doubt some bitter folks would snicker behind my back, making claims about my manhood and social status. The fact remains that the status quo has not changed, I’m still the same old young man working in the shop. Why is it then, that girls can’t give boys flowers? Because I know a lady who gave me flowers, her name was Cecilia, she had a long hair as dark as the night, her lips were scarlet red, her eyes spoke a different language, they told me it was all ok. Her eyes told me it was ok for men to receive flowers, it was ok to love and be loved.
Even for a guy, like me.

How to Create the Holocaust

Posted by Otto Robba in Prose on 21. Jul, 2009 | No Comments

Another night ridden with insomnia, another dream that tells fantastic tales.
It showed me the terror under the roof I lived, with maggots coming through the floorboards on a house that knows no affection, a house nobody wants. A house so consumed by an amoral pest that it had to be shutdown, closed forever, leaving my guardian dog inside, on his own. I cried for him but I still walked away. I heard him bark and snarl. But I just… walked away, waiting for the cars to clear the path on the crossroads so that I could walk away.
(more…)

Gloom

Posted by Otto Robba in Prose on 05. Jul, 2009 | No Comments

I remember when I was young, I’d enjoy the nights doing my geeky activities, reading books until my eyes couldn’t stay open… and, as much as I don’t miss those times I find myself currently stuck in a rather terrifying situation. The nights I once loved for the silence and peace now come back to haunt me… they remind me of how alone I am, of how far everyone is, of how much I miss being hugged or having someone care for me. They truly make me realize that I’m all by myself and… I am afraid. Afraid of knowing that I can have a great future, afraid of not accomplishing it, afraid of so much, having so little.
Gosh… I miss human contact… I’m stuck in this block of concrete, within 4 walls that know all my secrets, my bed is a mess, my mind is clear. I know what is wrong and yet, I go and just write a song.
On the other hand, I don’t want to sleep. My dreams have been… beautiful, as of late, and as much as it shouldn’t, it is scary that I wake up and want to go back to the dream, live it instead of the reality that surrounds me. Is my life that dull? Is the lack of female companionship that great? Is the lack of laughs so overwhelming? Is the loneliness so terrible? Yes, it is.
I try a Placebo, but that is no cure…and The Cure is not working. The girl? The girl was never there. And I’m lost in a forest.

Memóir

Posted by Otto Robba in Prose on 17. May, 2009 | No Comments

The weird part in all of it is that, despite the lack of lights and the lack of windows, the room was as bright as it could have been. Children laughter filled it up, writting tales on the walls, tales of all things fantastic. They built a world in that room, lit by the dim twilight and heart’s desires. They knew something new was starting, they just didn’t know what.
They knew why though and, maybe, that is all that matters. They knew why. Love carried their hearts with wings, not making them prisioners, but making them… attached, knowing that there was a place on God’s green Earth for them – a place where they were accepted and could be themselves; kids, playing around in a room.

Today I stand here staring at the crumbling walls of that old room, can’t help but fill a sense of doom and gloom. Doesn’t feel like home anymore, the peeling paint makes our drawings torn, shreded mementos of our long lost home. God… this place brings so much memories to mind, it is almost as if my body was imersed in a daydream…
I hear the circus drums as they parade through the main avenue, the song echoes in my heart and plays my strings, I smile and I see her eyes smile back.
A kiss.

Lost such a long time ago, where she is now, I don’t know.
Wish I knew, but she became a mere memory.
God knows I’ve been forgetting things lately.
How can I find someone else when I don’t know myself?
This is all I have, fragments of a life long gone, sometimes it feels as if it even was not my own, I mean, how can it be mine if I don’t recall the events, if I can’t claim ownership on past acts?
I guess I’m stuck daydreaming, I wish I was stuck living.