Dreaming in Paradise

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My dreams are vivid because of my malaria medication. I love it. I am living in another world both by day and by night. But I had one very unsettling night. We took a weekend trip to the tiny island of Utila. It perfectly exuded sleepy carribbean charm. We stayed with an acquaintance of our host grandma. His house was on the beach, sandwiched between two bars, which were constantly blaring music on the weekend from early morning until late night. We went to bed around midnight. It was hot and stuffy in the room, and it had a moderately assaulting musty cat pee smell. We kept the fan off to save electricity out of courtesy. Our room throbbed from the music next door. We put in ear plugs, although I'm not accustomed to sleeping with them. I could still hear the music. I was restless; it was too hot, the sheets felt slightly damp, and I was sticky and sandy from the sea. I heard the familiar hush of rainfall and decided to remove my earplugs. A violent thunder storm ensued. Near instantaneous thunder and lightning had me bug-eyed and paranoid that I would get struck by lightening. I was alert, as though my readiness would keep me safe. At one point I heard a machine gun right outside my room. I do not know what it really was - not the storm - maybe I was dreaming. A firecracker? All this talk about La Ceiba being unsafe permeated my subconscious. Our taxi driver the other day had told us about another taxi driver that was killed that day. Shot. I awoke to the screech of a gecko. How is it a reptile makes that sound? A cockroach ran over my foot and under my pillow. Ack! I jumped out of bed. The next night I situated my earplugs deeper, turned on my fan, and slept like a baby. I was happy to return to my bed in La Ceiba and the intermittent sounds of the city.

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