I had a dream about an old man. He was sitting on a chair across from me with his head tilted backwards, and every odd minute, his head swung forward as if he kept nodding off but then sporadically remembered I was there.

“Are you feeling ok?” He muttered in a thick spanish accent.

“I dont know. I feel ok. I just dont feel quite right”

The old man sat forwards and started empying things from the pockets of his faded yellow shorts. Apologies, allowences, a few outdated birthday cards, some soccer games he couldnt attend…. He fumbled around a bit and handed me a VHS tape. I stared at it and tried hard to remember why it had any significance.  It didnt seem familiar at all, and yet there was a crushing feeling in my chest at the sight of it.

“Whats wrong?” He asked.

“I dont think I like this movie anymore.  But thank you.” 

“How’s mom?”

“Shes good. I miss her every day more and more and yet I see her all the time. I stopped looking her in the eyes years ago, Im too afraid. I think there is something wrong with me. Maybe you were right?”

He dug into his pockets again and gave me a wrinkled manilla envelope. Inside was a small, folded picture of himself as a young man standing on the deck of a boat. He was staring outwards over the water with a pensive expression but he had the warning signs of a smile that was just about to crack though on his face. I can only imagine this photo was taken the very second he realized there was a camera next to him. He had my very eyes. No, I had his eyes.

The crushing feeling came back.

“I didnt mean those things, you know.” He told me. “….An earthquake deep under the ocean still causes disaster on land even when its thousands of miles away. Im sorry that my own tremors shook you.”

His head kept rocking back and forth as if he was still on that boat. He would doze off and wake right back up to hand me different things. Things that I had tried to forget over time. Some were very bad things, and some were wonderful things that made the bad things not seem so bad.

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping, Christian” whispered the old man after a few minutes.

“But you look so tired. Im sorry I kept you so long.” I responded.

I didnt know what else to say. I was afraid of saying the wrong thing. I was afraid of everything. And the feeling in my chest was becoming increasingly unbearable . I wanted to cry but I knew I couldn’t until after he fell asleep. But the old mans head kept swaying back and forth.

Finally he spoke again…

“All the hurt that you carry with you causes collateral damage in others lives,  just like the quake sends violent tides towards the shore. And the closer people are to you, the more tremendous the damage you create without intention. I cant seem to get any rest. I had to come see you but I’m exhausted. ”

I stopped looking him in the eyes. I was too afraid.  The pressure in my chest was too much now. Everything I had was breaking through my ribcage.  I started to gasp for air and my hands grabbed hopelessly for anything to hold onto as suddenly massive, towering waves began to expel from my chest and devastate everything in sight apart from us two. My fists clenched tightly around on the manilla envelope.

I started to speak. But with what air? The entire world was now submerged under miles and miles of ocean that came rushing from through my chest.  No breath came in, nothing came seeping out. And yet my voice was clear. 

“Im sorry if my dreams have haunted you. Im sorry if I let you die long before your body did. Can I keep this picture?”

“Yes. You have my eyes, you know.”

“Thank you. Good night, Dad.”

And with that, his head tilted back.  The second his eyes closed, mine opened.

I climbed out of bed and began to get ready for the day.