I applied the liquid as she had told me, then lay down without even changing my clothes.
I don’t know how long it took before I fell asleep, but one thing is certain: it wasn’t a restful sleep.
It was him… the dream, or rather the nightmare.
I found myself completely naked, standing on the red, cracked earth of a place I knew well — the curve behind the primary school, where that stagnant puddle lies, the one that never dries, even in the dry season.
It was night, but the moon lit the scene with an almost white light.
Around me, silhouettes.
I couldn’t see their faces, but I could feel their eyes on me. They formed a silent circle.
Then came a deep, raspy, multiple voice:
— Wash yourself. Enter and purify yourself.
I looked down. The puddle had grown larger. It glimmered and seemed to be calling me.
But an immense fear paralyzed me. I was cold. I was dirty. I felt ashamed to be naked, exposed like this. And the more I resisted, the more their voices grew insistent, commanding, hypnotic:
— Wash yourself. Wash yourself. You cannot continue like this. Wash yourself.
I took one step… then another. My feet sank into the mud.
The water began to bubble, dark, as if boiling beneath the surface, and suddenly a hand emerged from the water.
It grabbed my ankle and I screamed. I screamed with all the strength I had.
I woke up with a start, my heart pounding as if it would burst, my throat dry, my body drenched in sweat.
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