The Relic

by Francisco Angulo

  My head was spinning and it was hard to relax. I concentrated on the sound of my heart and tried to breathe calmly to fall sleep. As I focused on trying to cross over to the world of dreams, I felt a presence watching me in the darkness of the room. I could almost hear her breath as she watched me. When I was finally overcome by sleep and I could no longer hold the weight of my eyelids, in those brief moments when one goes fromreality to the universe of dreams, I could see this figure watching me. Other times, while I was already asleep, I felt her presence and heard her talk softly in my ear. Far from frightening me,her presence reassured me, it gave me a sense of motherly protection. In those moments when you find yourself with one foot on earth and the rest of the body in Morpheus’ arms, in that short period of time, I could clearly see that presence. She was a young woman with brown skin, marked features, big lips, a small nose and light brown eyes from which a bright lightirradiated. I wish I could have heard clearly what she said every night but when I awoke I could barely remember her words as they were not always clear and she often spoke in a strange dialect. It was very difficult to stare at her because although her skin had a cinnamon tone, she emitted a blinding white light that spread from her face lighting up everything around it, preventing me from seeing her body or clothes. At first glance you could only see her face and hands.

  Once, when I was ill with high fever, I could see her more clearly. She stood at the foot of my bed and her light illuminated the entire room. Sheobservedme without standing on the ground, hovering in the air. When she realised I was watching her, she looked me straight in the eye. At that moment I felt a little intimidated because she seemed to be able to read me like an open book, all my thoughts, past and present. Then, the corner of her lips moved slightly and smiled, making me feel calm and full of joy. There was a sort of complicity in that interaction, in that exchange of glances. After watching me for I don’t know how long, because in that state one enters a sort of trance and is not able to determine how long goes by in the real world, she held her hand out, just like a mother does to help her child cross the street. I, without even a moment's hesitation, sat up and stretched my arm trying to reach her hand with mine. Then, when I could almost touch her, she smiled again and disappeared.

  I vaguely remember another dream from when I was very small. It was a dream that terrified me for it was as real as the reality of the world in which we live. Every night it repeated itself and I was really scarred of sleeping. I wanted to stay awake to feel safer so that I would not be transported to that dream. I left the light on in the room to be in contact with this world. I closed my eyes and opened them quickly to make sure everything was still in place, but then, suddenly, when I opened them, I was already there. I was standing barefoot on a cold floor, wearing my pyjamas, and there was absolute silence. The soil was thin and whitish. There was darkness everywhere, I could barely discern anything. I looked at the sky and it was black, there was no sun or moon. I walked for a long time and found nothing, the planet was inert, and there was absolutely nothing. In the midst of the anguish I felt loneliness, cold and fear. Shutting my eyes tightlywould sometimes take me back to my room and the warmth of my bed. The dream repeated itself night after night and I never found a meaning to it. I thought maybe if there was hell, that was it. A dead world without any light, sound, heat - just coldness. That was hell, but why? Why did I go to hell every night? Perhaps because of that marble we got dishonestly when I was little?

  The first person that started treating my mental problems was my GP. At first with anxiolytics which, he gradually increased in dosage. Later with tranquilisers, so I ended up taking all kinds of pills: Valium, Tranxilium, Prisdal, Orfidal. I have even tried natural therapies and herbs such as valerian or linden. With all of them I underwent a brief period when my nightmares seemed to decrease, and at least, during this short time, I was able to collect my thoughts, but later nothing ever returned to a sense of normalcy. After feeling calm for some time, it felt as though my brain was trying to recover the time it had lost, and the nightmares, dreams and confused thoughts were even more intense to the point that it was impossible for me to hear my own thoughts. The constant bombardment of images and meaningless stories that kept creeping into my head made me hallucinate and suffer from persecution mania. Very often I came home running, just because I felt safe here. I don’t know at what point the nightmares took control of my life. It was a slow process. Over the years I've learned to behave like a normal person even if when I look at someone all sorts of fuzzy and strange imagesoccupy my mind.

  As a child I could remember my dreams better, they were very clear when I woke up. Sometimes they took me to far and distant times, others very close, and others even to the near future. I could be walking in Vienna accompanied by Mozart one night, as I could be visualising images of an unknown war where people killed each other mercilessly in fierce battles. Some dreams were nice, it was like being the star of a movie. I have always loved movies. I guess because of my difficulties inleaving home,movies took me on a vacation, I was transported to different sites without leaving home and so at least it was like taking a little vacation, picturing oneself as the protagonist of the film.

  The new technologies took a long time to get to my home and not until I was twelve we had a VCR. That day the sky opened up for me, a new stage in my life began. I could now select the movies I wanted to see in the video club and watch them as many times as I wanted. I used to savemy pay and some of the money they gave me for running errands. I also made deals with my mother to wash the dishes in exchange for a few coins for renting video movies. All I dreamt about were all those heroes in the films that travelled the world to make justice prevail.

  The seizures continued to increase. I remember I could not even go out to the movies because they startedimmediately, and I had to find a way toovercome them without anyone noticing. While others would focus, for instance, on an exam, or on a movie, or just on whether to eat the friesbefore the burger, I had to concentrate on looking normal, that is, I had to say to myself, quiet, you can keep your balance, don’t worry, you can do it, one step forward, one step at a time. I had to make a Herculean effort simply to beconscious. So, how could I pay attention to what people were telling me? How could I have fun when I had to focus all my energy, all my abilities on standing without falling? To illustrate how I felt, I’d ask you to go on one of those centrifugal machines used by astronauts also found in amusement parks, and try completing a test whilst spinning at high speed, at a speed most experienced pilots would have to concentrate one hundred percentand tense all their muscles to keep their blood from reaching the brain. Imagine also how to eat a double cheeseburger with fries and soda in that same situation. Well that's pretty much how I felt when besieged by one of my attacks. How could I then relate to people like a normal person?

  Over time I've learnt to downplay my condition because, while the symptoms seem to worsen more and more lately, I guess in one of these seizures, I will simply disappear, and so, with my death, I shall be released from my slavery. I visited several psychiatrists and psychologists but they did exactly the same asthe doctor who diagnosed measles five times. At least in group therapy I felt comfortable, because although the other patients did not experience the same as I did, it felt good to know those people, people with problems who thought of themselves as imperfect but were in fact more able than most. People who others labelled as crazy, people who believed what others said of them but were in fact, the sanest people I've ever met.

  We also practiced relaxation techniques so when the seizures occurred I tried to liberate my body from the suffering caused by my mind, travellingmentally to a nicer place. I liked to imagine a lake so large I could not see the other side, a lake of fresh, clear water with shores made of fine brown sand, and I found myself in a tiny cove where the beach made a near full circle, under a cherry blossom, quiet, watching the magnificent landscape where everything was still and calm. But when the seizures became more aggressive,
I could not keepa clear image of that magnificent place and everything became distorted in my mind. The sky darkened and the cold winter befell upon me. I was there, with barely any clothes, the cherry blossoms withering, and the water turning black. Then I quickly returned to my body, where I still felt worse. When all seemed lost, when I finally accepted my fate, it was when I heard her voice. At first a whisper and then clearly, the voice of the beautiful woman who encouraged me to keep going, to not give up, telling me I was not far off, that it would all end soon. When I regained consciousness, suddenly I was well again, refreshed and full of new strength to continue with this struggle.

  Submerging myself in water was like being outside this world, like becoming an astronaut, flying through awater world, a weightless world, where everything seemed to move at a slower pace, where even the sounds felt like slow whispers, a slower world, perhaps more in tune with the speed at which I think. The sea, the rivers, a universe in which all things move together in an endless dance. Here fish banks are the major ballets - algae and a variety of plants dance gently in the background. If Iremained motionless, submerged with a light ballast, I could stay still near the bottom and feel the rocking water, becoming another member of that choir.

  In winter, the only way for me to abandon this world was to get under the shower, close my eyes and cover my ears with the palms of the hands, leaving a small air chamber to achieve the same effect of a shell pressed against the ear. Some say that the sound of the sea becomes etched in shells and when you bring them close to your ear, they eternally reproduce that sound. The water fell down with strength on my forehead and my face, and having my eyes closed it felt like looking at the sun. After a while I had the sensation I had left this world or I went to look through the keyhole of a door, opening it and, then feeling the centre of attention and shrinking before the watchful eye of the creator.

  The other night I dreamed again with that strange woman of honey-coloured eyes. At first it was a peaceful sleep, then I could see myself from above, sleeping in my room. Everything was dark and I could only see the dim light that came through the window. Then a silhouette glided through the room like a shadow to stand by my side at the head of the bed. She bent down and began to whisper in my ear. I didn’t understand what she was saying and felt distressed. For no real reason the dream became oppressive - I wanted to understand what she was saying but couldn’t. I woke up with a sweaty forehead and everything was spinning at a vertiginous speed. I could only hear the loud beating of my heart. The sound was so loud that I could not hear anything else. Something was moving in my throat. I put my hands over it, and as I touched it I felt my blood pounding heavily as it circulated through my body. Why did that image arouse so much emotion, sadness and distress at once in me? I searched in my mind, but I didn’t find a reason. As I tried to remember her image, my legs felt weak, my body shivered and shook like a leaf in the wind.

  Millions of flashing images struck my eyes, and happy memories mixed in my mind with others that made me feel anguish because they were images from the past, a past that was impossible to revive or restore. Why were things forgotten in time? Why were people lost in oblivion? I wanted to bring them back, return them, revive them and keep them with me forever. This made me feel very weak and powerless. No matter how much Iwanted to, I simply could not do it. It wasn’t possible and my soul was fighting my body, a soul that refused to fall into oblivion, as my body lost control of all functions, even the most basic, spasmodically twitching with fury.

  Since childhood we are told we have to develop our imagination, that it’s good to dream, but nobody believes in dreamers. Nobody cared about what I had to say, nobody wanted to hear me. So what’s the point in knowing things, knowing how to solve the most complicated of humanity’s problems, if nobody really cared?

  If I were to say that I am an aeronautical engineer and I am planning to build a very large stairway toreach the moon, then everyone would listen and I would get funding for my project, but if I were to propose a new solution in which there were no steps or wings, or rockets, then no one would even listen. What would be the use of having solutions to their problems if no one wants to hear them? Ideas circled in my head continuously and broiledas thoughin a pressure cooker. There was always a phrase spinning in my head: “everything is hydrogen” and often I was surprised to find that what made everything work, was hydrogen.

  Solving the energy problem of the planet and the pollution imposed by the use of fossil fuels to obtain energypresented very different solutions. Energy is neither created nor destroyed, it’s always there but is usually found in stable compounds such as water which, is pure energy, consisting of the universal material, hydrogen which, is the real fuel. When we burn wood we are not burning anything, we're merely putting hydrogen in contact with oxygen through a chain reaction that produces a lot of energy. This is what we perceive as heat.

  Coal is only hydrogen storage, a container in which to keep it save so that it can be used by applying a simple spark to start a chain reaction. If we add hydrogen to carbon we'll turn it into different types of fuels as we know, first solids, “coal”, then liquids, “oils” with more hydrogen, “alcohol”, then gases, until pure hydrogen. I guess if you think carefully about it, the way you understand the world around us will change. Now the energy problem might seem silly because you will realise that energy is everywhere, you just have to use it the right way. For example, the air we breathe is composed of oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen and a small percentage of some inert gases, and as you have observed, it’s composed of the basic components that produce all the energy.

  Energy is only a series of interactions between hydrogen atoms. Water also contains a lot of energy but in a stable combination. Something similar occurs in the air but what if we were to compress it to get a richer concentration in gases? Let me tell you about a dream I once had: I was travelling on a submarine and it started malfunctioning and sinking into the depths of the sea, subjecting it to such a level of pressure that caused the hull to breach. Interestingly the problem was not the water getting in. What happened was that the compressed air inside the submarine had become a powerful fuel burning everything in its path. It was not a very nice dream, but it helped me understand this fact. We only need to change the pressure, temperature, or the provision of a chain of atoms to unleash as much energy as it is released in the core of the stars.

  New ideas kept coming to my mind all the time soI wrote them in a very small notebook since I was little. Whenever I had an idea regardless of what time it was and what I was doing, it was best to write as soon as I could because I could not think or do anything else until it was written.

  Since young most of my ideas had only one purpose: to solve the world’s environmental problem, to solve the energy problem of the planet with new green fuels and with new engines that were more efficient than the current ones. Over the years the ideas became much clearer in my mind and had a lot more detail. At that point there was no reason to write anything on paper, besides I had stacks of notebooks filled with ideas and after so many years, with the continuous brewing of thoughts almost every night in my head, I needed an entire shelf to store them. But now, writing them was no longer enough, I now needed people to be able to benefit from them. So I decided to give away my best ideas to businesses. For example, if I had a solution to improve the performance of solar cells, I sent that solution in a letter to a company known for manufacturing solar cells. I also sent letters to oil companies, car manufacturers and even environmental organisationsbut nobody cared about these letters, no one accepted these solutions, I guess nobody can tell a carpenter how to make a table, no one is willing to listen. However, I was not at all discouragedby this. I decided that if they did not want to improve their products, perhaps I could market my own improvements so I submitted countless patents and decided to do things for myself.

  They were only the worthless ravings of a sick mind, but since there was nothing else I could do, since only this wa
s able to calmdown this succession of ideas bombarding me, I came to the conclusion that filing patents may serve me as therapy. At the end of the day, even if no one cared, no one would pose any problem.Who cares if you do origami or if you write letters to large corporationsoffering developments in their products like how to improve the seal of a bottle or make a band-aid stickier!Who cares what you do if it makes you feel better.

  About María and Flat

  SILENCE fell again and colour faded away leaving everything in black and white, like a photograph moving away in the darkness. Later, a distant sound, a short, repetitive sound that sounded at intervals became increasingly clearer - it was the barking of a dog. She woke up. As she opened her eyes she saw a man soaked to the bones and next to him, under the rain, the black dog shehad earlier fallen from the tree branch with. The dog approached her rapidly wagging its tail and licked her face.