I had one of the more powerful dreams I’ve had in a while.
It started out with me in school. High school, probably, because I was still commuting from my mother’s home. I was a troublemaker. None of the teachers believed in me. Except one, who actually resembled Kirk Herbstreit of ESPN’s College Football Gameday. He never said a bad thing about anyone, including me. There was this one teacher who hated my guts with a passion. I went up to Kirk one day and cried, thanking him for never saying a bad thing about me, not knowing whether it was a conscious effort or unconscious, but that I appreciated it. He said it’s always a conscious thing and you must be aware of your actions and its reactions all the time. I wiped my eyes and headed out.
Then I saw my step siblings for the first time in quite a while. They were just getting picked up from school, except both of them were trying to get out and not go home but escape somewhere else. They were tired of the conditions my parents were offering. I headed home, somewhat confused as to how I should feel, and saw my mother doing the dishes. Then I told her I was going out, too, never to return. She looked confused as to what to say and how to feel, perhaps trying to gauge if I am kidding or not. I started grabbing some belongings and she started asking me some questions. I walked out and said good bye.
She immediately at that point started chasing after me, and almost started begging me to come back home. What is it, she asked, that’s making you do this? Where are you going? What can I do… I don’t know what it was. I didn’t know the answer to any of those questions. But I knew that for whatever reason, I was getting what I wanted out of it: I wanted to see my mother in distress. My step father drove by, asking what’s going on. He said that my step siblings were doing the same thing and that we’re crazy. I escaped my mother’s grasp by heading into traffic, on Artesia and Shoemaker to be exact in Cerritos. I must have thought about going to Matt’s house. There were some bulidings being built there, and my mom was telling me that she had bought that land and was telling me to see how it was growing. I was surprised for a second and headed into the neighborhood. I never turned around.
I don’t know what this dream is supposed to mean, really. Am I consciously trying to make my mom happy even though I feel like she shouldn’t be? I don’t know. I don’t know why I am a person filled with so much anger. It makes me rebellious and irrational at times.
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I didn’t do anything all day today. It was one of the most stressful days of my life.
I woke up, thinking I’ll head over to the Turbo repair shop at 8:30AM, get my turbo back and return in time for the mechanic to fix my car. I didn’t have an idea as to just how wrong I would be.
John’s mother immediately sets up a table for me to have breakfast. His cousin’s also here, and she surprises me with her presence. It’s so different seeing her outside of work. I take my time, because I had woken up somewhat early at 7:00 AM. Turbo specialist’s name is Javier. He’s not there. The reception lady comes out and says there’s something else that’s wrong with the turbo and that the mechanic’s not here right now. As soon as she tries calling him on his cell phone, he comes around and says it’ll be ready soon. I pay my 450 soles, take a picture of Javier who asks me to bring the car around sometime, and leave.
I get back to the garage around 9, 9:30AM, thinking the mechanic will be waiting for me. But I’m wrong. He’s gone to work on someone’s tractor at a village some 10 kilometers away. People are saying he’ll be back ‘ahorrita’ or soon. Meanwhile, John calls and tells me to call him if I need anything. He says he can come down here for lunch, but I tell him to stay at Cuzco because the mechanic’s not here and he could be gone for a bit. He then gives me his number, which I forget, and says that his parents are gonna go to a village 30 miles away, but I should feel welcome at his house as if it was my house (make myself at home).
That’s when the wait started. There is another guy waiting for this particular mechanic as well. We wait all morning. I get visibly anxious, because I was anticipating this day to be the ‘moment of truth.’ The turbo had caused the mechanic to take out quite a few parts. And with the temperature dropping as it does at night, I had no idea how that will change the complexion of the car. Was anything warped enough that there would be a leak between the parts? Would the part still work perfectly? Would the mechanic remember how the parts fit together? He didn’t even know how to take it out yesterday and it took him hours. It being a Mercedes, it wasn’t as simple as asking the next mechanic to come by and put it together. The one who took it apart would know how the pieces fit together the best.
The boy, Luchin, sees me just sitting while the other boys go to eat lunch. He doesn’t eat with them, he says, because they have their own house. He goes to eat next door, where they serve lunch for 2 soles (less than a dollar). I pay for Luchin’s lunch, and he’s visibly happy about it. He says the mechanic should be back around 2 or 3 PM.
But he’s not. I wait all day. I wait until the sun sets. No sign of him anywhere. He’s gone. It’s 6:30PM, and I had waited for him all day. Meanwhile, I notice that the crack on the windshield is clearly getting longer. It is at least .5 inch longer than it was a couple days ago. None of this is good. I have no idea if the turbo works or not, and I have no idea where the mechanic is.
Luchin tells me that the mechanic left early morning around 6AM to work on some tractor in a village 10 kilometers away. He always sleeps back ‘home,’ a little hut in the garage shop. He spends the night out drinking, though, he says. We walk a bit to have dinner. Luchin says he earns about 40 soles a week by helping out his ‘jefe’ or boss. He’s been doing this for 5-6 months, living in the bus in the garage while his parents and his 4 sisters live close to the Brazilian border. He’s learning how to be a mechanic. I take him to dinner, which he fully appreciates because he says regular dinner is 2 soles but chicken is 4. He clearly wants to have chicken, and I treat him to what is seemingly the best dinner he’s had in a long time. We have ‘Inka Kola’ drink to finish it off. Tasted like an odd mix of mountain dew.
Looking around the garage, I see an old truck they’re working on, and a van, a truck, and the bus that Luchin sleeps in. Which makes me all the more nervous… will my car be next in line to be used for spare parts and sorts? I surely hope not. And I won’t find out until tomorrow because today, I did absolutely nothing but worry.