Jon Huertas

Last night’s dream featured Jon Huertas as Javier Esposito, his character on Castle. We were part of a group in what seemed to be Israel, which was under attack. It was hard to tell if we were innocent civilians or part of a militia, but we were on the losing end of the battle. We had tents set up on a hillside or cliff overlooking a desert valley.

A giant block of tunics fell from the sky. Sitting in the valley below, the block looked like a single folded tunic. Perspective made it seem like I could reach out and pick it up, and it would be just my size. Since it was down in the valley, the tunic was actually a giant blockade the size of a football field. We thought the opposition forces had dropped them down to us as some kind of relief aid until we saw that they were also dropping fireballs. “BLOCKADE!” someone yelled as we ran for cover. The block of tunics turned into a wall of fire.

We were safe, but the battle was not over. The sky turned dark. “It looks like rain,” Javier said with hope and perhaps a bit of delusion in his voice.

But it wasn’t rain. We all knew – even Javi knew – that it was really the enemy’s air forces coming in to finish the job. Their numbers were so great that their aircraft darkened the surrounding clouds. “I don’t think that’s a storm cloud,” our comrade said.

“NO! I need it to rain! It has to be rain!” Javier yelled as he fought back tears and flashbacks. He was a veteran and already knew the harsh reality of war. He did not want to experience war again; he was afraid. I stood up and approached Javier. Pacing back and forth, he continued to mumble, “It needs to rain. It has to be rain.” I hugged him and squeezed him tight. He broke down in tears; his facade of stoic bravery crumbled. “I want it to rain, too, Javi. I want it to rain,” I whispered.

Facing our imminent death, Javier and I went inside and found ourselves on the upstairs landing of my parents’ house. I sat on the top step as he went downstairs. “I need to tell him I love him,” I thought to myself, “but I don’t want him to think I love him. He just needs to know I care, and he needs to hear those words from someone before we all die.” Javier came back upstairs, and as he reached the top step, I placed a gentle, comforting hand on his knee.

“I love you, Javi.”
“I love you, too,” he replied with a knowing look that these words would probably be our last.

Additional dreams from the evening:
Yesterday, our office kitchen was stocked with hot chocolate mix and marshmallows. Last night, I dreamed that the hot chocolate mix was actually dark chocolate mix and oatmeal.

I was riding inside a cart at a high-end craft store. They had postcards there, which highlighted some of their famous clients, I think. One of the postcards featured the Pampered Chef lady who recently did a show at my apartment. Even in my dream, I was confused by this.

I was at a wedding reception, and all of the older couples were getting up to dance. They were only allowed to participate if the number of years they had been married was a multiple of ten. Or maybe it was just double digits that were required.


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