Sunday, July 24, 2005

Wacky Dreams 2: Super Baby

Here goes two crazy dreams, both about my little brother JP. ONe of them features one of my friends here in the US, Jim.

Joao Pedro had just been born. 3 months old at the most. Mom put him in bed and asked me to watch him.
At a certain point, he lifted his head as to look at something.
“A brand new baby lifting his head????” I thought in awe.
“Mo-om!” I called out a little tiny bit scared, a great deal amazed.
Not happy yet with the lifting of the head, the kid lifts his whole little body, supporting it on his elbows, and finally sits down.
Amazed??? By this time, I was totally freaked out. Is this a freaking horror movie or the new version of “Looking who’s talking”?
“MOOOOOM! Joao Pedro is sitting up!!!!”
“What is wrong with it?” Mom’s voice comes from outside of the room.
That was the introductory scene. You know that one that comes before the credits?
Next scene happens years later.
Joao Pedro (age 7), Mom, and I, at Campo Grande Square, in Salvador, walking back home towards Vitoria Blvd, by the Govmt. Palace. As we walk by it, J.P. walks into it and starts climbing the fancy stairs.
“Joao!!!!” I yell at him. “Come back here now!”
JP acts as if he was 3, and totally ignores my command. I am pretty mad. Not sure if I mad at mom for not backing me up when I am trying to make HER SON listen, or if I am mad at her son for not listening to me who always claimed mother’s rights to be obeyed.
“Joao!!! I am telling you! Get down from those stairs! RIGHT NOW!”
JP looks at me challengingly and goes on as he pleases.
I walk in furious, with the urge to twist his little neck, but trying to keep just authority in my voice.
“Joao Pedro! This is your sister talking – you come down here this instant, or you’ll get a sp…”
Nope, no need to complete sentence. Kid shouts from up there, “Coming down, Vika! Look how cool this is!” And jumps all the way down from the top of the stairs, onto the lobby floor, where I was.
What could I say at this horror scene? Terror filled my entire soul, I tried to scream, but no voice came out of my wide-open mouth, my heart came to a halt. The kid was certainly going to die.
But no. He had a perfect landing, looked at me with that wonderful smile that he only smiles when he is absolutely in love with me, expecting, of course, a word of approval.
But tears simply overwhelmed me, and all I could do was to grab him by one of his ears and run to mom, crying in anger and fear, barely getting the words out “MOTHER! YOUR SON… YOUR SON…OH MY GOD! YOUR SON JUMPED FROM THE TOP OF THE MUSEUM STAIRS! YOUR SON IS OUT OF CONTROL!”
Then I wake up.

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