My current employment, my desires to go to Spain, and all my friends got all fucking mixed up into a strange fucking dream last night. I had a lover in Spain. I was a student in this beautiful land of mountains and lakes and coastal cliffs. Whether I committed the ultimate crime or not I cannot recollect. I do, however, know that at a certain point I remember my name and face on TV; of course those goddamn gachupines couldn't pronounce my name to save their lives, but I got the point that the news anchor was trying to convey. I was wanted for murder.
Shortly after finding out that I was a fugitive I looked onto the floor of the passenger side of my car. There was a bloody bag stashed there, and I didn't know where it came from. "Did I commit the act?" I thought to myself. Then recollections came back to me. Memories of lying with my female companion near a lake, and the realization that she had a boyfriend. It was the boyfriend, I realized, that had been murdered. Now I had a motive and bloody articles in my possession. I had flashbacks to a body lying on the ground and me standing over it.
If I were caught they would have all the evidence they needed. More importantly, I came had to face the fact that I could have committed a murder and forgotten about it. Maybe I blacked out the gruesome details. I felt sympathy for our client back in the states, the one who is on trial for murder. She heard voices that told her to pick up a gun and pull the trigger. Can someone who is guilty really be a victim themselves?
I remember fleeing through an ancient coastal village, through alleyways perched high above sea cliffs. Eventually I was caught and brought to trial. The proceedings were in Spanish and I feared that I would not be able to properly speak for myself in Spanish. I got my boss to come out and represent me, except she didn't know the Spanish justice system.
The last thing I remember is the inevitable doom I faced. And then I looked up in the courtroom and saw the faces of all my friends, there to support me. They knew that I was innocent. I however, did not.
I woke up on a boat, and breathed in a breath of morning air as I joyfully realized that I wasn't a murderer.
