The Visitor

It was late at night when she finally fell on her bed and was able to rest. She had worked all day long and then had to do some work at home. That’s what you get for choosing to be a teacher and not just a simple office job where you can close the door and leave everything behind when you head home.

She was quite happy with her job and she got a kick of being with the teenagers. Somehow this also kept her young, so she imagined. However, that night after slumping over a stack of essays, something drew her to her bedroom. She only had enough time to brush her teeth and it seemed like as soon as her head hit the pillow she went into a deep trance.

Her dreams were always so real and vivid, filled with colors. Although she knew that colorful dreams were associated to medication and craziness (she had read about it in some scientific magazine while she was waiting to see a doctor), she appreciated her dreams and sometimes they were much more interesting than reality.

However, that night her dream started out in a peculiar way. Her body was facing downwards and her face was smack in the middle of the pillow. It seemed as if she were being sucked in by the mattress. It frightened her tremendously and somehow she was aware that it was a dream (or was it?). When she tried hard to turn around, she realized that her body was paralyzed. Her mouth opened as an attempt to scream. It seemed like she was screaming, but no sound was coming out. Nonetheless, the scream in her head for help was loud and clear.

This event had happened on many occasions, but this time she wasn’t able to snap out of it. Her heart started to beat faster and faster. Was she having some kind of heart attack? Was she going to die? Suddenly she heard a sweet voice mixed with the sound of a needle scratching a record.

“Everything is going to be all right. There is no need to be afraid.”

Somehow that voice soothed her. It comforted her in a way that her heart calmed down and she was breathing as if she were in her yoga class. All of a sudden she started to levitate. Her body rose about a meter or so and was gently turned over. She managed to open her eyes and noticed that her bedroom was illuminated in a bright purple light. It was so beautiful and peaceful at the same time. But was she awake? Or was she dreaming? It seemed so real.

Then when she looked towards the doorway and she saw him. He was tall and his skin was dark gray. His eyes were shaped like almonds, no nose, no ears. His arms crossed. As he watched her, a chill ran up her spine. He spoke to her but his lips weren’t moving.

“There is no need to fight us.”

Us? Who were us? He was the only one standing there. She could not make heads or tails of what was happening. She knew she had to figure out a way to wake up.

She decided to pray. Why in the world would she get that idea? She was a Christian and she usually said her prayers before she laid down her head or as she was falling asleep. But on that night she hadn’t. She started with the Our Father. Apparently that was the only prayers that she could think of.

Immediately the purple light disappeared and that man leaning against the door frame waved his hand as if he were getting rid of a fly that was pestering his face.

Her body dropped and fell on her bed. She opened her eyes and realized that she had woken up. She was in her bedroom; no lights on. She looked to the right; window closed. She looked to the left; man gone.

The morning sunlight woke her up, and as she looked in the bathroom mirror she noticed that she had red marks on her shoulders that weren’t there the night before.

This dream reoccurred on several occasions being that the only differences were the color of the lights and the red marks on her body. Sometimes the colors were green, blue, yellow and red. The red marks also appeared on her back and stomach.

To this day, she wonders whether they were dreams or some close encounters of the 4^th kind.

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(April 16, 2014) Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

But they’re only little Kids???

            Bombarded by the TV commercials, many youngsters want to have those brand name items. Not only are they expense, but also in fashion. Teenagers in Brazil must think that if they can simply steal the products, why work to buy them? Besides, they will not go to jail, just to a correction house where they can only stay for maximum three years; easy way to live. Then again they are pretty fast, usually outrunning the police. Sometimes when caught, their mothers beg the police to let them go. Depending on the crime committed, the police give into the plea. However, if they are sent to the correction home, when they turn eighteen they are set free with a clean criminal record and new tricks up their sleeves that they have learned with the other inmates.

            Some citizens defend that the age a person can go to jail should be lowered to sixteen. But that really does not make a big difference because sometimes the delinquent is as young as ten years of age or younger. Usually these youngsters are working for adults who do not commit the crime for the simple fact that they will be convicted if they are caught. But then again, the maximum time and adult can stay in prison is thirty years.

            Now, analyzing the how long a person can stay in jail seems like very little depending on the crime committed. There was a case that happened in 1991 where an actor killed a mistress, who also happened to be an actress, with a pair of scissors on his wife’s demand. They were condemned to thirty years in prison, however, due to good behavior; they were set free after a couple of years. Because it was the only crime they had committed, they were able to clean their criminal records. They moved to other states in the country. Both went to law school, married other people and are living happy lives. What about the family of the victim? They have to live with this pain for the rest of their lives.

            It just seems so unfair. An eye for an eye sounds like a good way to deal with these criminals. However, most of the criminals are really young and just need to be taught what is ethical. It seems like their family are the streets. They take another person’s life as if they were playing a video game. The grab cell phones from people’s hands, rip off people’s necklaces, and go into places like restaurants, buses and even churches and just steal everyone there. Where are the parents? Where is the police? Where is the government? Where is the love?

            The answers to these questions are riddles that the simple human mind can not work out.

(April 10, 2014)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

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When You are Sick

When you are sick, people naturally worry about what you are facing. However, some people overreact believing that their reaction will make the sick person feel better. Actually it is quite aggravating, especially when the doctors do not know what the matter is and your pain is overwhelming. People call you up and demand that you inform them all the symptoms that you are feeling and then they tell you about remedies which you can try as if they were certified doctors or just simply because they know someone who knows someone  who suffered from the same disease or had a few of your symptoms.

For the person who is going through the pain and suffering of the symptoms and all the needles and dreadful lab work, all these home remedies are sickening. If it were that simple then the sick person wouldn’t be in this situation, would they?

There are other people who are just curious and do not want to feel left out because all the others are worried and asking about you. So, they ask how you are but they really do not have the patience to hear the answers. To those, the answer is short and sweet: much better, thanks. It soothes their conscious and helps them sleep better.

After a while filtering out these two kinds of people becomes easy. The real reason that this is annoying is that you, of all people, the one who is sick, wants to know what the problem is; the reason why you feel so much pain and unfortunately the doctors do not know. Simple as that.

The best kind of person in this situation is the one who simply asks if you want to talk about it, respects you if you don’t and just lets you know that they are available to help you in case you need it.

(April 9, 2014) Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

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I am Dying

I am dying...

But don’t feel sorry for me...

Feel sorry for those who have never loved or been loved;

Feel sorry for those who cannot praise God freely;

Feel sorry for those who do not know God;

Feel sorry for those who choose to complain all the time;

Feel sorry for those who give more importance to buying than to spending time with friends;

Feel sorry for those who do not have true friends;

Feel sorry for those who cannot see beauty in little things;

Feel sorry for those who wake up and are not grateful for a new day, a new chance to make a difference;

Feel sorry for those who cannot sleep at night because they have done something immoral or criminal;

Feel sorry for those who are lonely and do not have someone to call a friend;

Feel sorry for those who do not see the wisdom in the elderly;

Feel sorry for those who do not recognize the importance of family;

Feel sorry for those who do not have a home to go to;

Feel sorry for those who do not appreciate the education they are getting;

Feel sorry for those who stay in a bad relationship fearing loneliness;

Feel sorry for those who cannot afford to care for their illnesses;

Feel sorry for those who work only for money;

Feel sorry for those who only worship money;

Feel sorry for those who believe that they are going to live forever.

I am dying…

But then again, aren’t we all?

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(Written April 1, 2012)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.