nightmares / pesadillas – (en/es)

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The marrow of the worst nightmares is always the bread, simple and primal, seasoned with the butter of pain. They set their clocks by deathwatch beetles, and thrive through the centuries.
They were once the men with the leather-ribbon whips who sweated up the Pyramids seasoning it with other people’s salt and other people’s cracked hearts. They coursed Europe on the White Horses of the Plague. They whispered to Caesar that he was mortal, then sold daggers on the Ides of March. Some must have been idle clowns walking support of emperors, princes and epileptic popes.
Then out on the road, Gypsies in time, their populations grew as the world grew, spread, and there was more delicious variety of pain to thrive on. The train put wheels under them and here they run down the log road out of the Gothic and Baroque; look at their wagons and coaches, the carving like medieval shrines, all of it stuff once drawn by horses, mules, or, maybe, men.
Only happy people have nightmares, from overeating. For those who live a nightmare reality, sleep is a black hole, lost in time, like death. There are many who don’t wish to sleep for fear of nightmares. Sadly, there are many who don’t wish to wake for the same fear.
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La médula de las peores pesadillas es siempre el pan, simple y primigenio, que se adereza con la mantequilla del dolor. Aunque se ajusten con los relojes de los mortales escarabajos mecánicos  y prosperen con los siglos.
Una vez fueron los hombres que con látigos de cuero sudaron las pirámides, condimentadas con la sal de otras personas y los agrietados corazones de los demás. Fueron el recorrer Europa del caballo blanco de la Plaga. El susurrarle al César que era mortal, y luego vender dagas en los Idus de Marzo. Fueron muchos ociosos payasos, apoyos de a pié de emperadores, príncipes y papas epilépticos.
Y después, en el camino, gitanas en el tiempo, ellas crecieron a medida que el mundo creció, se extendieron, y prosperaron entonces con una deliciosa variedad de dolor donde poder elegir. El tren puso ruedas bajo ellas y aquí van de bruces por el mismo camino inicial, dimanadas del gótico y del barroco, en vagones y carruajes tallados como santuarios medievales, todas ellas arrastradas alguna vez por caballos, mulas, o, tal vez, hombres…
Sólo los hombres felices tienen pesadillas, por comer en exceso. Para aquellos que viven en la pesadilla de la realidad, el sueño es un agujero negro, perdido en el tiempo, como la muerte. Hay muchos que no quieren dormir por miedo a las pesadillas. Lamentablemente, hay muchos más que no quieren despertar por el mismo miedo.
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Nightmares / Pesadillas – Dugutigui on “Something Wicked This Way Comes” by Ray Bradbury

About Dugutigui

In the “Diula” language in Mali, the term « dugutigui » (chief of the village), literally translated, means: «owner of the village»; «dugu» means village and «tigui», owner. Probably the term is the result of the contraction of «dugu kuntigui» (literally: chief of the village).
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9 Responses to nightmares / pesadillas – (en/es)

  1. D., you always manage to amaze me with the truths that you share.
    Yes, many don’t have nightmares, many sleep like a stone because they are dead tired, many pray to sleep because they are in pain…
    How nicely you describe it all… a pleasure to read and short, almost like a poem…🙂

    • Dugutigui says:

      You should not think so highly of me. Perhaps I’ll end believing in myself. Anyway I’m blushing now🙂
      Thanks a lot!

      • 😆😆😆 I have no idea how, but you always make me laugh, always…😆
        THINK HIGHLY OF YOURSELF!!!!
        And don’t blush, please.😀
        Thank YOU my friend.😉
        PS: there’s no hidden agenda, I swear…😆😆😆

  2. A highly evocative post… Thank You…

  3. petit4chocolatier says:

    A lot to think about within this post! Made me think of my dreams🙂

    • Dugutigui says:

      The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.
      Albert Einstein

      Thanks for your comment!!

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