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Las mandibulas del viento. Like a wild dog, the wind rattled the shutters and a devil burst into the bedroom. Not The Devil. A devil. Let´s say Graffiacane; one of the Malebranche ( Evil Claws ). Scratchdog in English. I imagined it so because the snapping wind emptied the room of all comfort and safety and I then saw myself being pulled from the room by the scruff of my neck out to the hallway and raised like a mystic or possesed soul against the wall. Facing Oriana´s bedroom I could see Isadora watching TV and relaxing in Oriana´s bed. Ori was at Diego´s PH for a few days and Isa had wanted to watch televsion without my cynical comments. A tarry smell ... but that must be the roof they´re working on in that house behind us ... no? Graffiacane keeps me pinned to the wall even if I can´t see him. I know it´s him. He´s from Bolgia 5 in The Inferno and he tortures corrupt politicans. Cagnazzo Vukovitch ... my paymaster. I lash out at my imagination trying to silence it, but I can´t.

I want to call out to Isa. The door to our bedroom is ajar and shakes slightly with each gust of wind. Now it creaks open halfway. I want to call out. The door swings almost closed, but doesn´t shut completely. I feel my skin prickle. Now the door swings open again, nearly completely. It´s the wind. It must be. The hall light is on ... at least the bulb nearer the bathroom. The walls ... cream colored. I´m on the bed aren´t I? My feet dangle helplessly and my head hangs from my neck like a puppy. I try to reach out and touch the sky blue sheets of our bed with my fngertips but find nothing. I see from the bed, but I see Oriana´s bedroom door open. Impossible. There´s Isa with her white slippers poking out from under the black bedcover. It must be cooler this evening. I want to tell her I´m here. I want to tell her to help me. Not to leave me alone hanging from the wall. The back of my neck hurts and I can´t turn and bend to protect myself. Graffiacane could snap my spine or choke the breath from my lungs if he chose. Why doesn´t she see me? Why doesn´t she turn and look at me? I try to open my mouth and scream but neither my facial muscles nor my vocal chords seem to respond. Did Isa slip me something? Does she in fact know that I´m hanging here? Is she part of this? The Devil, or this devil, makes me doubt her. I can´t believe. But I can´t ignore Graffiacane who has me by the neck. Is that weight on my chest him? Even as I float? Isa, you´re so far away. I still can´t scream.

Isa has me by the hair and her knees are on my chest. I realize I´m screaming and oddly I have an erection. And yes, I´m covered in sweat and we´re on the bed in our bedroom and the table lamp is on and Isa looks terrified and angry and is nearly shouting,

Nene! Nene! Por Dios!! ... Shhhhhhh!! Shhhhhh! Por Dios ...
Donde ...? ( it´s all I can say for the moment )
Shhhh Nene. Estabas gritando como un loco!
Un Diablo me tenia ... por el cuello.

Isa looks even more startled. She used to fall on her knees and pray whenever she passed by a church in Buenos Aires. Right there on the sidewalk. That was years ago while she was still in primary school. But the devil, any devil, still scares her. And now me too. I push at her knees and she slides off me to one side still holding my face between her hands. I feel dizzy and disoriented and any anger she may have felt over my ruining what was to be a quiet evening alone in our apartment has washed away. She hurries to the kitchen and returns with a glass of water and then gets a facecloth from the bathroom and cleans off my brow. The dizziness ebbs away and I´m fully awake now but I don´t think it was a dream. I straighten my left leg which feels like it´s about to cramp up. And my neck is sore. I breath deeply but still feel out of breath. Why this vision? The wind is still gusting, screaming up from Patagonia and the South Atlantic and hurling itself in fits and starts against the windows. Fall is here and I feel a strange glow underneath my exhaustion. A gleeful current pulsing under my skin. I turn and smile at Isa,

It was just a nightmare. Todo bien amor.

But her look shows she can´t belive my reassurances.