Like many people, I have a fixation with the past. But not with a remote time, that happened decades or centuries, or millennia. I always think in life, in my life, some years ago.
Last night I dreamed I could go back in the recent past. The eighties, for example. That has always attracted me a very unexpected way.
How I love to go to 1995 and marvel at all he had in 1995, even though I've lived this year with absolute confidence. He was in third grade, had a false denim hat with a sunflower on the front, the girls listened to Fey, saw the Prince of Rap on TV, you were reading the magazines my sister went out with my bike, everything was so simple and so fleeting. But what would now 1995? I do not mean to live with age then I have now, but as I am now, all I know.
How would you feel if you go back to September 1, 2001? Do not have a uncontrollable desire to go around saying that in ten days the world as we know it will change completely? They could not hold a rational conversation every two minutes and hold things happen: a terrorist attack, a war in Iraq, the first black U.S. president, the first president dwarf in Mexico, the sudden death of Michael Jackson, a tsunami epic, a film about a blue alien and the other on a vampire shine with the light, all kind of stupid details that now seem so everyday and normal, but then are unknown and therefore fascinating. In my dream
visiting a friend in the past and made me a firm promise to behave normal, predictions hold. And all I loved: the music, the color of the sky, TV commercials, clothing of ordinary people on the street, the feeling of an era is over.
I lived the first six years of my life in the south of Mexico City, but I forgot almost everything. I remember things. The color of the chairs, the stairs of our building, until a friend of my brother turned around and ran eyelids by scaring the entire unit. The solar eclipse of 1992. Small tiles of the "kiddy" of my kindergarten, I booted and kept in a pouch like precious stones. The Giant who went to the pantry. The shoe store at the corner of Canada Avenue. Last time I was stung a whipping on the field where my brothers trained with the "Pumitas." When my brother ran away and ended up competing in the TV-O greasy pole.
However, they are very fuzzy memories, which are easily lost. Maybe I know everything by conversation, although I'm sure that many of these things, and more trivial, remain within me without the ever appointed. Also by photos. But something inside me that always returns to the department, to the street, in this kindergarten, those nights, though I know it's impossible: there is no way, not even turn around and walk the same places. Is unrecoverable.
If I could travel back in time, with all the possibilities that this offer, choose to go to those days. 1991. Then go to 1995. Then go further back, when he was not born, and see my brothers when they were small and brats, and my parents in their seventies costumes, sitting in the cinema. See things that are familiar.
all know that time travel, if any, would be restricted. As this oh, wise in Cracked.com article explains, if we go to a very remote period would be taken as witches, we could not communicate in any language possible, we would die of hunger, we would not have identity or money, and grow old faster. Moreover, as Abraham Homer Simpson advised we should be very careful not to touch anything and thus alter the course of humanity.
But I want to go back and re-touch my hat with sunflowers. My Barbies. The clothes that made me as a child. Objects that meant so much before and I would give a sense of triumph, something recovered, as when we find something we thought was lost or we meet soon with some article of clothing that we had forgotten we had.
Above all, I'd go back in time to sit in a corner and watch the brat cejona live in another time, no worries now, with the innocence of that time. It would be very nice. Or sad, depending on the spirit that trip.
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