Correct any errors and natural speed please. Thank you so much.
Hundreds of weeping cherry blossom trees reminded me of a spring day in Kakunodate, a town located in Akita in the north of Japan. Kakunodate is famous for its samurai traditions and its magnificent Shidarezakura- trees with drooping branches and light pink five-petal blossoms. But I was more than fifteen thousand kilometers away from Japan. I had decided to spend the day in the Japanese garden of my hometown, a city off the beaten path in the highlands of Peru. This haven, used by many for meditation, was a perfect place to ponder over things and go for mind calming.
Unlike most Chinese gardens that offer a viewpoint to appreciate the whole area, this garden was designed to be seen from inside, so several twisting trails guided the visitors to an impressive pond located in the middle of the garden. Each winding path offered unique features and a splendid landscape because they all went through different parts of the wild forest, where the garden was situated. However, the beauty of this garden escalated to fascination when one reached the middle: a quiet pond surrounded by thousands weeping cherry trees that in springtime blossomed gorgeously with dazzling light-pink petals that changed their color in a matter of days- from white as they open to pink when they are in full bloom. An amazing show of color and beauty.
Captivated by the idea of seeing the flowers blossoming, I walked for a while through the forest until I reached that area. The clear blue firmament and the tranquil pond in the center made this garden absolutely staggering. My eyes were fixed on the reflection provided by the smooth surface of the water that used as a mirror reflected the trees and their blossom in perfect harmony. It was as if two worlds met in parallel. The effect didn’t last long, though. Soon, the breeze turned into blow and the ripples dominated the water displaying a distorted image. So I just closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. The fragrance of the flowers mixed in my nose generated a unique scent. There is no better perfume than nature.
No more than two seconds had passed when I felt his hands around my waist. Tenderness and love. I refused to open my eyes because I wanted the rest of my senses to take control and enjoy his presence. I heard him breathing while his lips pressed my earlobe softly. I synchronized our breathing in order to feel as if we were one. As a matter of fact, his warm body was so close to me and his arms were holding my body so intensely that for a moment I thought I could feel his heart beating at the same time as mine. We were just one soul!
I whispered his name as I opened my eyes, but he was gone. It was so unusual that he didn’t say any word and just left. I looked around, but he was nowhere to be found. I fixed my eyes to try to see among the trees, but it was impossible to see further the winding paths. Then I realized that all this time the garden had been completely deserted. For unusual as it seemed, not even a single bird was there. Only the breeze kept its normal rhythm blowing the fallen leaves away from the trees. The beauty of the garden was not important anymore. It was just a grove of trees - like the scenography in a play that people don’t pay attention anymore because the actors are gone.
I was wondering why he had left without saying anything, when I heard a noise in the back. As I turned around, I saw something moving among the trees– or to be more precise I recognized a backpack sneaking among one of the trails that led to the forest. I shouted his name, but I got no response. “He may be too far to hear me,” I thought. So, I walked quickly towards that direction. It took me less than five minutes to reach that place, but he wasn´t there. There was only a huge rock mostly covered with dark green undergrowth, brushwood and a backpack left unattended on the floor. I called him several times in vain. A bit frustrated, I sat on the ground to see if I could find something inside this bag. When I was about to lean on the rock, I noticed that on the left side there was a small entrance that led to a barely lit tunnel. This place was scarcely perceptible unless one removed the brushwood that covered its mysterious passage.
Having scrutinized the tunnel, I noticed it was a murky and forlorn place, but it didn’t seem so deep. It was absurd that he was there, but I didn’t hesitate to get inside. It was clear that he had left his backpack before entering the tunnel. Convinced that I was able to do it, I held myself tightly to the holds that covered the surface and put my legs in the cracks that I was able to find. Once I reached the ground, I thought it was going to be easier because it was much bigger than it seemed from outside, but the cold temperature and lack of light proved me wrong. I was tempted to return when I heard somebody breathing heavily. I shouted his name, but only the echo of my voice could be heard this time. The only plausible explanation was that he had hurt himself while going down and was probably disoriented or half-conscious.
As I moved forward, the vertical tunnel became more and more narrow and the little light gradually faded. At some point, I had to be on my knees and hands if I wanted to proceed. Consequently, I moved cautiously and slowly in the pitch-dark muddy tunnel. My mind was so focused on finding him that I didn’t even notice I had scraped myself in several parts of my legs and knees. It wasn’t extremely painful, but when the deep wounds had contact with the heavy and thick mud and stones, it became really unpleasant. I decided to stop and lay down flat on the ground. I couldn’t explain why every moment seemed more difficult. Nevertheless, I had no choice. The sound of his breathing was clearly closer.
So I concentrated really hard to find where the sound was coming from, and I pushed my body to that direction using a sort of military-crawl maneuver. It’s possible that I moved only a half-meter because I was getting more and more exhausted. The lack of oxygen was responsible of my weak condition. I told myself that I had to continue, but I couldn’t think straight. Because I felt incredibly dizzy, I closed my eyes to recover, but panic took control of me when I opened my eyes again and my pupils were unable to adjust to the darkness. It was so frightening not to know where to go. Reality seemed more distant every second. I was probably losing consciousness.
When I realized that I was close to faint, I decided that I had to leave the place immediately. I tried to push my body backward, but I couldn’t. My body seemed so heavy. I was only able to move my hands. I kept moving them desperately looking for a way to escape, even though I knew it was unlikely to find one. I started to lose hope when my right hand found something. I can’t explain the joy I felt when my fingers interlaced his hand. “I found him”, I wanted to scream but I had no strength. I was holding his hand tightly, but he made no movement. I held my fingertips to his wrist to see if I could feel a sign of his heart beating, but there was none. I knew he was gone. The grief that I experienced was a mixture of overwhelming pain and complete desolation but unattached to reality. I felt abandoned and hopeless. Never in my life had I experienced being so terrified. With trembling hands, I covered my face and tried to scream, but the sound died in my throat and emitted no sound.
With eyes full of tears, terror and despair in my heart, I woke up frantically. It took me a while to convince myself that it was just a vivid nightmare. My heart beating slowed down when I realized I was in my bed, but I was still disturbed by the details of the nightmare. I was able to recall my despair trying to find this man and the intense desolation I experienced when I found him dead.
My body understood that it was just a nightmare, but my mind kept playing images in my head. For a while, I was so absorbed in thought trying to remember more. Then I convince myself that it was insane to torture myself. It was just a meaningless dream. However, I couldn’t forget the man from my dream. Naturally, I’m used to dreaming about people unknown to me, but it has never been that intense. Now that I’m fully awake I can’t remember his face or any detail of him. Only his name keeps playing in my head. A name completely new to me. It could easily be from a foreign language, but it’s hard to say because never in my life have I heard it before.
The clock read 4 a.m. Still two more hours before getting up. Sleeping was impossible with all I had in my mind. So I kept wondering if this dream was the way my mind expresses how I feel with the changes I was going to experience soon. Was this man a projection of myself -someone desperately looking for freedom who found nothing except emptiness and desolation? Had I been pretending to be brave to face the challenge of starting a new life when in the end I was completely frightened? I felt asleep before answering to myself.
