Carlos Gardel's nightmare.

• Author: Cossa, Roberto
• Position: Latitudes

Carlos Gardel woke up with sudden dread. He was emerging from a strange dream filled with the fragmented images of beings that floated in space, be it upside down or wearing masks, sometimes transfiguring into a pathetic circus rider or a strange, bearded centaur. There was a blue girl with big tits, also Nancy the busybody, and Olive Oil, Popeye's girlfriend. He also saw himself with arms open as if holding on to a guitar that was not there. Carlos Gardel glanced over to his side and sighed with relief. His six-string, extension of his own self, was still there.

Carlos Gardel looked at the time and realized it had gotten late. He finished packing his cardboard suitcase, left the hotel, and got into a boxy black Ford. The car started to move. Obsessively, he kept seeing images from his nightmare. Over and over. What kind of a world was that? A madhouse. He tried to compose himself. The world is not like that, he thought. The world is normal. It is inhabited by ordinary men and women that are moved by my singing, love me, and applaud me. The world is normal, I am a winner and I have a future, he kept repeating to himself.

The car came to a full stop. Gardel...