The Dream of Zaragoza Murphy

By Anthony Marchese

An internal journey of thoughts,
visions and the stimulus of every day.
Enter the mind and soul of one person,
from their dreams to the daily grind and
the mental process of modern city life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony Marchese
• Release date: Sep 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386645221

Anthony Marchese

Anthony Marchese is a writer and filmmaker. Originally from Detroit, he traveled and lived outside the US for ten years. Having returned his life revolves around his son and his work.

Book preview

Prólogo

¿como te explico? en verdad no lo busqué. no sabia que voy a encontrarlo. una persona va a la cama. duerme y sueña para todo la noche. y con la luz de la madrugada se levanta. cada día es así. no  sabemos que va a pasar. muchos lo planifican. pero planificar es una mentira. dice mañana voy a hacer este. y luego voy a el lugar para ver algo. hacer una cosa. mirar una cosa. vivir una cosa. trabajar. caminar. correr. pensar. sentir. saber. nada. no saben nada. hoy pensar en mañana. no serve para nada. y también sabe que pensar en ayer preocuparse en ayer. probar vivir ayer otro vez. no es posible. no se puede. claro no lo olvida. anda siempre en la mente. los pensamientos. sentimientos. los sueños. yo sé. yo sé. pero hoy. viva ayer. y mañana. yo sé que no serve pensar pero vivan. y un día cuando hay muchos cintas para mañana. levanta en la mañana. prepara para andar. abras los ojos. y han llegado los  sueños de todos los ayeres. hoy se fue. y el momento llega para vivir. una persona. un hombre. una mujer.

llega en la vista. y todo lo demás se fue. un día lo pasó conmigo. un día llegó el sueño. no es posible anticiparlo. no es posible preparar. no es posible regresar a la vida de ayer. la vida que pareció ser tan importante. antes de saber como podría saber una persona. es como sentir el color del sol y ver la luz de su brilla en el oscuro de la noche. cuando llega el sol todos entienden que no era sol antes. ¿como te explico? que yo vi el sol. yo he sentido el color del sol en mi mano. yo besé los labios del sol. y tomé el jugo del alma del sol. el día que llamamos hoy para mi llegó. pero ya su nombre es ayer. sabemos que no podemos regresar a ayer. pero el ayer viaje con nosotros. donde voy. ayer queda conmigo. ella camina con su mano en la mía. y ya no puedo caminar sin ella. no puedo andar. no puedo levantarme de la cama. sin la mano de ayer. y el hoy que vivo no es un día sin ayer. ella es mi día. ella es mi noche. mi luz y mi oscuro. viviré hoy. pero ayer me acompaña.

Prologue

How can I explain? The truth is that I was not looking. Nor did I know that I was going to find it. A person goes to bed. Sleeps and dreams all night long. With the light of the dawn they awake. Every day is like this. We do not know what is going to happen. You can plan all you want but plans are a lie. Tomorrow I am going to do this. and then I will go to see that. To do something. To look at something. Live. Work walk run think feel know. Nothing. We do not know anything. To think of tomorrow today is worthless. To think and worry about yesterday. To try to live yesterday again is not possible. It can not be done. Of course we can not forget. It always goes with us in our mind. Memories. Feelings. Our hopes and dreams. I know. But today. To live yesterday or Tomorrow. It is worthless to try but it lives inside me. A day when there are things to do tomorrow. Wake up in the morning. Get ready to go. Open your eyes and yesterdays hopes and dreams have arrived. Today is gone. The moment to live arrives. A person. Man. Woman. Stands in front of you. Time vanishes. One day this happened to me. My dream arrived. It can not be anticipated. There is no preparation. Nor is it possible to return to yesterdays life. A life that seemed so important. Before knowing how could you ever know. It is like feeling the heat of the sun and seeing the glow of its light in the darkness of the night. When the sun rises and shines we know that we are feeling knowing this for the first time. How can I explain to you? I saw the sun. I felt the warmth of the sun in the palm of my hand. I kissed the lips of the sun. I sipped the souls nectar. The day that we call today arrived for me. Now her name is yesterday. We know that we can not return to yesterday. But yesterday always accompanies us. Wherever I go yesterday stays with me. She walks with her hand in mine. I can not walk without her. I can not move forward. I can not get out of bed without a hand from yesterday. The today that I live can not exist without yesterday. She is my day. She is my night. My light and my darkness. I will live today. With yesterday as a companion.

the dream sueño  il sogno

––––––––

i awake in a room.

i know this place.

an apartment.

my apartment.

my empty apartment.

empty of people.

other than me.

i am in bed.

that is where i sleep. 

and dream the dream of dreams.

the stereo to the side silent. 

nothing special. just the last stereo sold with a turntable. when i bought it so many years ago it did not occur to anyone that after a few years it would seem like a historical relic.

unique its niche amongst the electronics of the time. 

from bed i could see the little machine where i wrote sitting on the table in where the oven and the fridge were. 

can not really call it a kitchen. 

a kitchen is a separate room. 

a kitchen has kitchen counters.

a kitchen has cupboards. 

a kitchen is inside of a home.

this was where i lived. 

this is where my stuff was.

an old couch. 

some big cushions. 

i have plans for a desert tent motif.

someday. 

for now there are some big cushions on the floor.

thrown against the wall. 

tossed more than thrown. 

why would i throw a poor big pillow. 

it has never done anything to me accept support my aching back.

did i mention that? 

i like to lay in bed for a few minutes.

work into the day slowly.

stretch the bones out a bit.

touch my knees.

try to look at each shoulder.

by the time i am done with the yoga i can usually get out of bed one leg at a time. 

careful that it is steady on the platform of worn carpet.

actually it is a big rug. 

a carpet gets laid. 

nothing in this apartment ever gets laid. 

no sea to bathe in here.

this is a city. 

you will hear more about that later.

an oldfashioned bathtub. 

i do not have the courage to sit in it or lay down in it. i will stand in it 

and let scalding hot water singe my flesh. it could be seen as a form of self mutilation but the reason i truly allow scalding hot water to stream down from my neck over my shoulders and back is that it is the only substance on earth that works out the kinks. my neck. between my shoulder blades. directly behind my bellybutton. right above the top of my butt. i feel sometimes that my spine is one continuously welded piece of cement. when i make sudden movements i can feel small chips crack off and fall into the vortex of some form of pothole in my back. 

the hot water melts the welds. when the welds are melted i can move some of the joints of my spine. some of them. the important ones that make it possible to function on a day to day basis. 

my body was not always this brokendown. 

i used to be elastic. liquid.

como

el agua

fluir

como

el río

y

cuando

llega

una roca

en el camino

pasa sobre

o

al lado

de la roca.

––––––––

like water

flow

like water

and when

a rock

is in the path

flow

over

the rock

flow

around the rock

i guess when that happens you have got to tip your hat to the people of the sun. 

my body. me. i used to be like water. flowing. of course sometimes a raging river. but i am only human, you know what i am saying? 

right now the only river i can think of is the molten river of chlorinated city water flowing over my dorsal wasteland. a few more minutes and i would be back to normal.

these days not much of a level to shoot for. anyways it was usually about this moment that she came to me. sometimes to scrub my back. if she does not do it it will not get done. she sings to me as we bathe. i sing too. but when i sing unless i am open or drunk enough to truly release the diaphragm i sound like i gargle with drain cleaner. for those of you that are not capable of drawing conclusions