Barlovento: One of its definitions is the wind that anticipates the scent of prey for certain predators. With the wind against it, the predator senses the smell of its potential prey, while the prey remains unaware.

I have a kind of gift, and I call it barlovento. It’s the ability to anticipate, in dreams, the details and big things that will happen in someone’s future. It’s not that I am clairvoyant, nor do I control it perfectly, but I hear and see people in “dreams” when I sleep, who warn me about something for someone, and sometimes I don’t even remember it clearly. I’ve always thought that they are the dead. When I was a child, I was a sleepwalker, and I would get up to open the windows because there were people talking to me from outside… We lived on the second floor.

Yes, it’s terrifying, I suppose that’s why I don’t write much about it, but not for me; it’s because others are so accustomed to it that it’s hard for them to understand without judging.

Anyway, I’m happy. It has deepened my intuition, and now, as an adult with much fewer bursts of adventurous passion, I’m understanding many things, like how, by living with barlovento, I’ve saved myself from many highly risky situations during my youth travels through the wild world.

It’s as if I could travel in time, both to the future and the past, in some kind of delta state or whatever. What I do believe, though, and it’s not my idea but rather something that came with barlovento, is that it’s a type of mental frequency achieved through sleep, where one becomes vulnerable to encountering others when entering a spectrum where you travel within the collective unconscious. If I concentrate well before sleeping, I connect with what I want to know and then dream possible answers. It’s not easy, and I don’t consider myself a superhero because of it. As I get older, I try to avoid it, and I’ve learned to silence and hide this beautiful breeze. It’s been hard for me to understand that not everyone deserves to know their possible futures, and it’s been hard for me to realize that I shouldn’t worry about familiar strangers.

El fin

Two single ladies of middle age, having tea in the garden:

• I think, my friend, that if I grow old and don’t find anyone as a companion, after finishing my duties as a mother and calming down a bit, I’ll go looking for my ex.

• Which one?

• The one who loved me and whom I knew how to love.

• But do you think he’s available?

• For me, I suppose so. Despite everything, he still cares about me, and we love each other. I hope he doesn’t die before I can see him again.

• Look, look, that’s a big confession. I think, my friend, that if I don’t find anyone to grow old with, I’ll ask my ex too if he wants to partner with me in old age.

• Which one?

• The father of my child.

• But… isn’t he with someone else now?

• Yes.

• And how will you do that?

• I don’t know, but he’s never stopped taking care of me.

• Then he’s never stopped loving you.

• At this point in life, nothing matters more than loving and caring for each other.

• The importance of money and ego fades when you’re nearing the end of the road.

• Beautiful, my friend.

• Wonderful indeed…

• Hey.

• Tell me.

• There’s a reason they’re exes.

• You’re right, but now that I’m older and calmer… the truth is, it’s like burning the last cartridges, right?

• Exactly! And what if I burn them, for example, and I can’t stand this man?

• It’s because you don’t love him, my dear friend.

• That’s true. It’s better to wait to love someone new and different. Do you love the father of your child?

• Well, in a way, yes. I can’t imagine him not being around because he’s always been a great support. I think we’ve reached a level of trust and understanding with each other that I would burn my last cartridges with him.

• How wonderful. That’s helped you in the parenting journey. It’s definitely appreciated at the end of the trip… It would be a contemporary Disney ending.

• What about yours?

• The father?

• Yes.

• He’s always hated me, and with that, he established the love he could receive from our daughter in an undefined place. It’s unfortunate and incredible, but that’s how the human species is. There are individuals, and there are individuals.

• The funniest thing, my dear friend, is that the father of my child and the father of yours were born on the same day, and that abyss of difference between your daughter’s father and mine, don’t you think?

• Curious, my friend, really curious.