Manuel Ortega Where Are You?

Three Dreams Featuring Manuel Ortega

Who is Manuel Ortega? Honestly I haven't the foggiest idea, but three very detailed dreams from last night featured "Manuel Ortega" Have you ever had a dream about someone you didn't know? Happens to me A LOT.
Sooooo... what was in these dreams?

My Three Dreams Featuring Manuel Ortega

Dream One Manuel Ortega - Facebook Admin

The first dream, I didn't quite understand what I was doing - some kind of web work, when I first woke up, I thought it was like an electronic school year book, but now it seems to me it was more like the back end of a Facebook page where you add the admins.
There were 3 pictures one above the other and a blank space below that to add another admin. The three pictures had names under them, but the print was too small for me to see. They seemed to be pictures of people that had been taken from a 7th grade year book in the 1970's. When I moused across the one picture it expanded, and the name "Manuel Ortega"came up large in my mind. That's odd, I thought, does that happen with the other pictures?
I tried it -no. The special effect only happened with the one picture.

Dream Two: Manuel Ortega - Doctor ?

Message for Manuel Ortega

In the second dream, I am having a physical exam. It was not like a doctor's office that I have been in before - more like a bedroom in the old west. There is even an ornate large white pitcher set with navy Chinoise floral designs on the ribbon oak wash stand across from the foot of the big wooden bed. 

I am slim, in my thirties? Long straight black hair. Long fingers, shiny natural manicured nails.

The doctor is a large muscular man with a thick shock of straight black hair, and curly close sideburns. His look and accent reminded me of a minor character from a TV series in the 70's -Rhoda? He seemed to have a Bronx accent, and an affable demeanour -down to earth, caring.  

He asks me a question, then with raised eyebrows says "Oh? Let's see." 

He then presses on my abdomen above my ovaries. 

First both.

"Can you feel that?" 

I nod.

Then the left.

"That?" 

Then right. 

"That?"

Then presses again.

"What happens when I press here?" Pressing on the left again. 

"It feels like pressure on the right as well?" 

Then the right.

"And this?"

" It feels like pressure on the left"

" Um hmmm... just as I thought."

He turns to my 12 year old daughter in the dream

"Can I ask you to step out for a minute? He says." I have something to discuss with your mother."

She silently nods, and slips out, closing the heavy oak door behind her.  

He kneels on the left side of the bed, tears coursing down his cheeks, engulfing my small hand in both his large tan hands.

"Oh I miss you" he cries from his heart. "I miss you so much!" "I miss you!" His body heaves with sobs.  

His pain is almost too much to bear. I turn my back to him and lie on my right side.

This pain-wracked bear of a man, rolls into bed.  He reaches out urging me into his arms enfolding me in his embrace, seeking comfort. Burying his face in my hair. He inhales, as if to capture my essence, my very being.

"I miss you! I miss you!" he moans great gut wrenching sobs."I miss you."

He wraps thick muscled calves around mine, pulling my back tight against him.

I turn my face to him softly kissing wetness from his cheeks, my right hand holding his shaggy head. 

I speak softly, seeking the words in Spanish 

"Te amo" Te quiero" I search - what is the word for think? I rationally wonder, thinking I don't know this man. What am I doing in bed with him? "Yo penso te amo" I whisper.

Opening his eyes wide, delight sparks in the dark depths, a smile lifts the corners of his mouth in a wide grin. Overjoyed, he wrapped me in an embrace and kissed my cheeks incredulously - 

"You do? You love me? You do?" 

Diamond tears dance across his thick black eyelashes.

Turning to face him fully, I grasp his head in both hands, and explain as if to a child.

"God loves you... He sees your pain..... God loves you very much. God loves you Manuel Ortega."

I search his eyes for understanding. Has he heard me?

Once again I try "God loves you Manuel Ortega."

He looks through me with unseeing eyes.

I sigh. 

Delightedly, he tucks me close against his broad bare chest, as a child with a treasured lost toy, and sleeps the sleep of the innocent.

 I want to lay there forever. soaking in the scent of Ivory soap, sweat, cinnamon and lime. The cool white crisp sheets.  My head resting on his shoulder, I gaze at his profile. This kind, gentle, bear loves me. My fingers stretch through dark hairs of his chest. I wanted to memorise every bit of this moment - treasure it forever. My thin legs entwined with his strong brown muscular calves. His soft snore as he exhales. It is as though this is to be my last moment on earth with him and I want it to last forever.

Dream Three - Manuel Ortega Drunk

From tangled greyed sheets, Manuel stumbles to the oak door - a hastily grabbed sheet concealing him from the waist down. He wrenches the door open. 

"What're y staring at?"He bellows. "Min yr own bzns! This is my room! You hear me? My room! "Who needs you anyway? Get out! Get out! All of you! Get out! Leave me alone! Get the hell out of here!"

Muffled tittering can be heard from the end of the hallway.

He hurls the heavy door shut, collapsing heavily against the wall.  

Where are the wash stand and pitcher set? Is this even the same room? Yes, but much has changed. The once white-washed plaster - yellowed, a crack runs crazily ceiling-ward from a fist mark punctuating the shadow where a picture once hung. The acrid air stings my throat. Pungent cigarillo smoke, sweat, despair and an amber bitter liquor.

I struggle against the sagging mattress trying to get to his side, but can only weakly lift my head. 

I gasp."Manuel? Manuel? then "Can you hear me?"

I am parched as a brown dry leaf. 

 "Manuel? Listen to me." I urge. "God has work for you. You must get dressed." 

He hoists a black bottle in my direction, saluting me derisively.

"God? he sneers "God?" He swigs noisily, then roars " God? has work for ME to do?"

"Manuel ," I plead."God loves you."

"God." he frowns contemplating the label, and red wax seal. Brows furrowed as if trying to remember something from another place, another time.

He sets the bottle noisily, deliberately on the wooden floor.

Then draws himself together to his full height.

"God."

Then dropping his shaggy head, he rubs a greying beard.

"Well, I'll get dressed." he consents, mumbling and bumbling into the bed. Then wagging an unsteady finger at me."But only becz YOU asked me to." 

The scene changes.

Manuel is slumped over a large oak bar in his home, his back to me, caressing a square glass- its two ice cubes melting into the amber liquid.

Comfortingly,  I slide my left hand across his back and rest it on his right shoulder.

"Manuel," I prompt, "Manuel, God loves you."

No response.

"God has work for you to do." I remind, then admonish "You must stop this now and do God's work."

"God!" he huffs.

The clock ticks.

Tension grows in his shoulders."God."

He lifts the glass,swallows , and gasps.

Then with renewed courage roars  "God? God? ?? Right- God loves ME!"

"Some love." he grumbles.

He lifts the glass and swallows.

"When will we be together again Manuel?" I ask pleading.

Sullenly, Manuel lifts the glass inspecting it against the dim light, swirling the liquid.

He salutes the Time keeper on the wall."God knows when."

He swallows, then rages- "You loved God. I know you loved God."

Another swallow.

Setting the glass on the bar, he stares into space.

The sighs "We'll be together again when God wills it."

"Manuel, it is time to wake up." I urge. shaking his shoulder. "It is time to start over. It is time to do Gods work." Then plead "Can't you see?"

I sit on the stool next to him, pulling his bulk back against me, cradling his head against the crook of my neck.

Sobbing, he turns.wraps his arms around my thin shoulders, clinging to me as a drowning man to driftwood on the sea.

Amber liquid puddles around ice cubes on the bar, where the glass lies on its side. The air is still but for the ticking of the clock.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

I awake with an urgency, an urgency to write the dream, to find Manuel Ortega. Who is Manuel Ortega? Where is Manuel Ortega? Manuel Ortega has work to do for God.

I've done writing the dream, now it is up to God, and you my readers. Pass this message in a bottle along on the Internet sea. Help it reach Manuel Ortega, whoever he is, wherever he is. Please let him know that just like you and I, he is loved.

What clues can you discern from this dream that might help this get delivered to Manuel Ortega?

May God Bless you,

Suzanne

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