The International Writers Magazine: Dreamscapes Life Stories

Imagine • Oswaldo Jimenez Imagine this: freshly sliced limes, salt, smoke from cigarettes, perfume. Now, imagine this: bottles, glasses, mirrors, stools, tables. Finally, imagine this: Wife, kids, dog, house, mortgage, a clock marking 8:30 p.m.

Now, remember the limes and salt, and imagine a hand. Now, remember the perfume and imagine a woman wearing the perfume. Next, remember the smoke and cigars and cigarettes, imagine the scent of perfume and smoke from cigarettes mixed in the air.

Remember the bottles, now, and the glasses, and the mirrors and stools and tables.
Then, remember the smell of cigarettes and perfume and smoke. Good. Keep that in your mind’s eye for a moment.

Imagine this now: Loud music, loud male and female voices, clinking glasses, shrill voices, and shouts. Remember now the sliced lime and salt and keep that in mind for now. Imagine the taste of sliced lime mixed with refined salt.

Now remember everything you’ve imagined: The taste of lime mixed with salt, the scent of perfume mixed with cigarette smoke; the sound of loud music mixed with loud voices of men and women; the bottles reflected in mirrors, the glasses stacked on tables, the stools filled with random people.

Don’t forget the final image: wife, kids, dog, house, mortgage, clock marking 8:30 pm.

Imagine this now: You are squeezing the juice of a slice of lime onto the hand of a woman wearing very sweet perfume, sitting on a stool very close to you. Now imagine you are pouring salt from a shaker on the hand, and mixing it with the lime juice. Keep that thought in your mind.

Imagine that the loud music being played over speakers is a song that you’ve heard before. Think of a song you’ve heard played loudly over speakers designed to entertain a gathering of strangers. Now, remember the loud voiced of men and women trying to overpower the sound of the loud music. Good.

Now remember again: wife, kids, dog, house, mortgage, 8:30 pm on the clock.

Let me describe what I have imagined so far:

I’m sitting with a woman in a bar, it’s late, I’m comfortable enough with this woman--who wears very sweet perfume, which I assume is designed to attract a man’s attention-- that I am squeezing lime juice on to her hand and mixing it with salt, for what I imagine is the preparation to drink tequila straight, then lick the lime juice and salt from her hand after downing the full glass of tequila.

We are in a very crowded bar, judging by the loudness of the music and the shouting of men and women. I imagine the people at this bar are strangers during a happy hour after work trying to get friendly with a person. I imagine that the woman I’m drinking with is good looking and is available, and I’m thinking about committing adultery.

Now, I remember the wife, and kids, and the dog, and the mortgage, and the fact that it is very late and I should be home. I feel guilty. I feel angry, I feel a bit of shame, but I imagine I’m so disgusted with my life that I am ready to destroy it by having a one-night-stand with a strange woman I met at a bar.

Right. What did you imagine? was it at all close to my scene?

Well, lets keep going shall we?

Imagine this now: lips, smoke, salt, perfume, skin. After you’ve imagined that, continue with: wallet, money, cab, hotel; Let’s see, imagine now: pain, rain, train, stain. Lastly, remember again: wife, dog, kids, house mortgage, clock.

OK, then, now that you’ve imagined lips, smoke, salt, perfume; imagine that you are tasting the salt and lime from the perfumed hand, more than once. In fact, imagine that you have done it so many times your tongue is starting to feel numb from the salt and the lime juice and the drink. Did you imagine tequila? if you didn’t and imagined your favorite drink, that’s fine, too. Well, then, keep that in mind.

Let’s see now. Imagine lips touching lips and imagine tasting the scent of cigarette smoke coming from the mouth of the lips that you just touched with your lips. Also, remember the scent of sweet perfume mixed with the scent of smoke from cigarettes, now think, were your eyes open or closed when you imagined touching lips with lips?

Was the scent of perfume stronger than the taste of cigarette smoke on the lips?
Imagine, carefully now what you felt when you touched the lips with your lips, imagine, think hard! think about what you felt when you imagined your lips touching lips.

Hold on to that thought.

Imagine now what it would feel like to reach for your wallet--as you sit at a bar, with a stranger, a woman, you have been drinking with and have tasted the scent of cigarette smoke from her lips. Remember what you felt the moment you imagined that your lips touched her lips--and when you open it, you see that there is no cash inside it, and that there are no credit cards in it? Now imagine that you have lots of cash and use the cash to settle your bill.

Now, imagine that you’re walking out of the crowded place with a woman wearing sweet perfume whose mouth tastes like cigarette smoke, and you remember what
you carefully imagined what you felt when you touched her lips with your lips. You don’t
have to think hard, right? Imagine now, that

Remember now the wife, kids, dog, house, mortgage, time. Don’t let that image go.

Stop here for a moment and let me describe what I have imagined so far:

I’m sitting with a woman in a bar, it’s late, I’m comfortable enough with this woman--who wears very sweet perfume, which I assume is designed to attract a man’s attention-- that I am squeezing lime juice on to her hand and mixing it with salt, for what I imagine is the preparation to drink tequila straight, then lick the lime juice and salt from her hand after downing the full glass of tequila.

We are in a very crowded bar, judging by the loudness of the music and the shouting of men and women. I imagine the people at this bar are strangers during a happy hour after work trying to get friendly with a person. I imagine that the woman I’m drinking with is good looking and is available, and I’m thinking about having sex with her.

Now, I remember the wife, and kids, and the dog, and the mortgage, and the fact that it is very late and I should be home. I feel guilty. I feel angry, I feel a bit of shame, but I imagine I’m so disgusted with my life that I am ready to destroy it by having a one-night-stand with a strange woman I met at a bar.

I’ve forgotten about the wife and kids, and I have drunk enough tequila, that I dared to actually kiss this woman on the mouth. I’m thinking of ways to pay the bar tab and take this woman to the nearest hotel room where I can continue to imagine my evening with a complete stranger. In the process, I reached for my wallet hoping that I have enough cash to pay the bar tab, and be able to pay for a cab ride, and possibly, a hotel room.

I am not thinking about the mortgage, or the dog, or the wife or the kids, I’ve completely lost track of time. The moment my lips touched this woman lips, I felt that sensation of arousal, and of reaching a point of no return, as they say in the movies, and I am ready to proceed with my sin.

How’s that so far?

Fine. Now, remember this: money, cab, hotel; pain, rain, train, stain.

Imagine this now: you have lots of money, you have just gotten paid. That’s the reason you remembered the mortgage. Imagine that the money you have in your wallet is to give to your wife to help pay the mortgage, and you are now using that money to pay for a bar bill, that you and a strange woman ran up. Now imagine yourself sitting inside a cab, with a strange woman whose perfume is now all over you. Imagine that you are close together, in the back of a cab. Imagine you taste the scent of cigarette smoke on her mouth, and smell the scent of cigarette smoke on her hair and her clothes. You remember the scent of perfume mixed with cigarette smoke. Now imagine that you are so close to this woman’s body that you feel the sensation you felt when you first imagined touching her lips and sensing changes inside you. Keep that in your mind for now.

OK. now imagine, if you please, rain. take a few moments and imagine it is raining. Imagine that you are inside a cab and that it is raining outside. Imagine seeing the rain hitting the glass on the cab window and making the street lights and stoplights seem like strange amoeba like formations. Imagine the smell of the cab, mixed with perfume, and cigarette smoke. Now, imagine more rain, torrential rain. Can you see it? Can you almost feel it? Good. Now, imagine the warmth of the woman’s body next to yours.
Imagine that you are so close together that the warmth of your body and her body are steaming up the windows inside the cab. Do you see it?

Fine.

Now Imagine this: A woman at home worried about her husband. Imagine that this woman is looking at her watch and wondering what has happened to her husband. Imagine a dog running around the house chasing after a six-year-old kid. Now imagine the kid having some type of developmental challenge. Imagine that she is autistic. Imagine that you brought the dog to the house as recommended by the physicians who had suggested to you that a dog might help the kid feel more comfortable. Imagine that your wife is waiting, for you with a plate of food in the microwave oven. Imagine that this woman, your wife, has wrapped the plate of food on cellophane to keep the meal warm for when you arrive home. Now, imagine the kid is a little girl. Imagine that she has your eyes, can you see it? OK, keep that in mind for now.

Let’s see, were where we?

Right. Are you still with me? Good. Remember this now: hotel; pain, rain, train, stain.
Can you imagine a hotel room? Have you been to a hotel room? can you picture it in your mind? Well, imagine this. A long corridor with neon lights on the ceiling and identical doors every three or four feet at each side of the corridor. Imagine that you are walking down the corridor, with the woman at your side. Imagine that the carpeting is a teal color with flowery designs. Now, imagine that the designs on the carpeting are similar in both, color and texture as the dress the woman walking with you is wearing.

Imagine now that she is not wearing shoes! Imagine that she is holding her shoes on her hands, and that she is not wearing any stockings. Imagine that your shoes are soaking wet, and that they are squeaking as you walk. Imagine that you’re mind is trying to make sense of it all, but, Imagine that you are too drunk to make a sensible decision.

Imagine that you cannot see beyond the moment. Imagine that. Imagine that your mind cannot make the distinction between today and tomorrow. Imagine that you can only focus on taking the woman that is holding on to the shoes into the room. Keep that
in mind. Don’t let that thought go just yet.

So far so good. I think.

Before we continue, let me remind you, what I asked you to do first:

Imagine this: freshly sliced limes, refined salt, smoke from cigars and cigarettes, perfume. Now, imagine this: bottles, glasses, mirrors, stools, tables. Finally, imagine this: Wife, kids, dog, house, mortgage, a clock marking 8:30 p.m.

Right. Now let me tell you what I’ve imagined so far in a nutshell as they say:

I’m a married man who’s down on his life, who hates his life, he’s overwhelmed by having a mortgage, a child with special needs, and a wife who is caring but who is living in the 1950’s. I have decided that I had to break out of it and made the decision to have a one-night stand with a woman I met at a bar. In the bar I have spent a great part of the evening drinking tequila straight with a woman who is probably there trying to meet a man, too, and we are now drunk, making out at the bar, and I have decided that I would use the cash which I had just cashed, that I am supposed to give my wife to pay the mortgage, and am now spending on drinks and cab fare to take this stranger to a hotel to have sex. I am drunk, I only see what’s a foot in front of me, it’s raining and I’m in the hotel walking down a corridor with this woman at my side getting ready to commit
adultery.

I imagine that as I walk down the hallway to the hotel room, I think about the woman who is my wife and get the guilty feeling that what I’m about to do is immoral and is not right to do to a woman who is a good person, a good wife, and a good mother, that I am probably destroying the life of my kid. But, I imagine that this guilt trip does not last long because I am drunk and I can’t think straight about the consequences of my actions.

How’d you do? Is this close to what you imagined?

Here is where I need you to concentrate and imagine this scenario:

The woman has chosen the hotel carefully, because it was no accident that she was at this bar wearing provocative clothing and strong perfume, to seduce a man, preferably a married man. She gets the man drunk, takes them to a hotel, where she has several men waiting for her in the room, who, beat the man until he is half unconscious, they rob him of all his money, and dump him near a train station where he is found by the police, laying on a bench, bleeding, staining the tiles on the train platform. He lost all the money , and now he has a huge medical bill that he has to pay. His wife has to get him from the emergency room, where she arrives with her little girl in tow, at three-o’clock in the morning, to find her husband with broken ribs, broken nose, fractured skull. Imagine the woman sitting by the side of a hospital bed, holding her sleepy toddler, and weeping, weeping bitterly, and feeling guilty for not thinking about her husband.

Well? Did you imagine something similar? did you imagine something different?
When I asked you to imagine touching the woman’s lips, did you feel something?
No? I can see that! I can see it clearly! My fault!
Entirely my fault.
Why didn’t I think of that!
Hell, I am completely myopic!

What if you are a female imagining this?

© Oswaldo Jimenez Feb 2013
artzineonline@gmail.com

Triskaidekaphobia
Oswaldo Jimenez
Chris pinched the knight with his thumb and index finger and with a delicate twist of the wrist made two skipping moves in the air before placing the ivory horse-head on the black square, between his opponent’s Rook and his Bishop.

Share |

More life stories