Raven and the Cenote Dream

Raven Series Part #3 | Jump to Raven # 1 

Photo by Carlos Nakazato on Unsplash

Two fingers and a thumb clamped my nose shut. A hand sealed my mouth. I wrenched my head free and snatched a breath in the semi-darkness.

I balled up my fists, but before I could strike the oxygen cleared my head and I saw Raven perched on the couch beside me. 

“What the heck, Kid?” I said, unclenching my fists. “Suffocating a parent isn’t very nice, you know.”

“It’s what you get for snoring like that, Dad.” Raven yawned. “You woke me an hour ago. Snoring.” 

“What time is it?”

Raven looked out the window. “Almost sundown. I’m hungry.”

“Me, too. I was dreaming I was at a taquería with Pato.”

Raven turned. The wind coming through the window whipped her long black hair around her head. Her face was in such deep shadow her green eyes appeared as dark as her hair. 

She asked, “Did you eat anything?” 

“What?”

“In your dream, did you eat anything?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“You remember my friend Ellie from Anchorage?”  

“What about her?”

Ellie’s Native. Alutiiq. One time she dreamed of visiting her Auntie and Uncle who had passed years before. They were frying up caribou in their old house. When Ellie told her Gram about her dream her Gram asked if she ate anything.”

“So now you’re asking me?” I stretched. My back popped.

“Old much, Dad?” Raven teased. “Ellie’s Gram told her that she should never eat anything in a dream, that if anyone tries to feed her in a dream it means an evil spirit is chasing her and she needs to wake up quickly.”

“Did Ellie eat anything?”

“No, she was just sitting at the table visiting. Her Gram said this was good, it was her Auntie and Uncle visiting her from the spirit world because they missed her. 

“Huh.” I popped my neck.

“Dad, did you eat anything in your dream?” Raven slipped her feet into her shoes.

“No. Pato was eating tacos de buche. I don’t like stomach.” 

“Dad,” Raven said, “that’s double gross. If you have gross dreams like than and snore I am totally justified in pinching your nose shut.”

“And cover my mouth to suffocate me?” 

“Justified.” She laughed. “Dreaming of Pato in the middle of all this is important.” 

“Before Pato and the tacos,” I said, “I was dreaming about scuba diving.”

“Were you diving in the ocean or a cenote?”

“A cenote, but I’m not sure what one.”

“A Pato dream and a cenote dream,” Raven said. “Santa Sofía would flip.” 

Pato’s wife, Santa Sofía, had more or less adopted Raven the moment the two of us arrived in Tulum. She was a Mayan shaman and a yoga teacher, among other things.

Raven stood. “Dad, we have to go back to Tulum.”

“Because of two dreams?”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Dad. Please. Don’t be such an ignorante.

She sounded so much like Santa Sofía that I laughed. “Okay, we’ll head back. Your program got us into this, so I’m counting on you to get us out of it. I’ll be your bodyguard and try not to get shot.” 

Raven smiled. “You know what else you could do?” 

“What’s that, Kiddo?”

“Buy us some dinner. I’m starving.”


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