cent substance I had cured her, and that it was some sort of
energy I had left in her head and in Rosa’s hand with my
blows.
A vision of a particular ravine went through my mind. I
became convinced that dona Soledad and la Gorda were there.
My knowledge was not a mere conjecture, it was rather a
truth that needed no further corroboration. La Gorda had
taken dona Soledad to the bottom of that particular ravine
and was at that precise moment attempting to cure her. I
wanted to tell her that it was wrong to treat the swelling in
dona Soledad’s forehead and that there was no longer a need
for them to stay there.
I described my vision to the girls. Both of them told me,
the way don Juan used to tell me, not to indulge. With him,
however, that reaction was more congruous. I had never really
minded his criticisms or scorn, but the two girls were in a
different league. I felt insulted.
I’ll take you home, I said. Where do you live?
Lidia turned to me and in a most furious tone said that both
of them were my wards and that I had to deliver them to
safety, since at the request of the Nagual they had relin-
quished their freedom to act in order to help me.
I had a fit of anger at that point. I wanted to slap the two
girls, but then I felt the curious shiver running through my
body once more. It started again as a tickling on top of my
head which went down my back until it reached my umbilical
region, and then I knew where they lived. The ticklishness
was like a shield, a soft, warm sheet of film. I could sense it
physically, covering the area between my pubis and the edge
of my rib cage. My wrath disappeared and was replaced by a
strange sobriety, an aloofness, and at the same time a desire to
laugh. I knew then of something transcendental. Under the
impact of dona Soledad and the little sisters’ actions, my body
had suspended judgment; I had, in don Juan’s terms, stopped
the world. I had amalgamated two disassociated sensations.
The ticklishness on the very top of my head and the dry
cracking sound at the base of my neck: between them lay the
means to that suspension of judgment.
As I sat in my car with those two girls, on the side of a
deserted mountain road, I knew for a fact that for the first
time I had had a complete awareness of stopping the world.
That feeling brought to my mind the memory of another,
similar, first-time bodily awareness I had had years before. It
had to do with the ticklishness on top of the head. Don Juan
said that sorcerers had to cultivate such a sensation and he de-
scribed it at great length. According to him, it was a sort of
itching, which was neither pleasurable nor painful, and which
occurred on the very top of one’s head. In order to make me
aware of it, on an intellectual level, he described and analyzed
its features and then, on the practical side, he attempted to
guide me in developing the necessary bodily awareness and
memory of this feeling by making me run under branches or
rocks that protruded on a horizontal plane a few inches above
my height.
For years I tried to follow what he was pointing out to me,
but on the one hand I was incapable of understanding what
he meant by his description, and on the other hand I was in-
capable of providing my body with the adequate memory by
following his pragmatic steps. Never did I feel anything on
top of my head as I ran underneath the branches or rocks he
had selected for his demonstrations. But one day my body by
itself discovered the sensation while I was driving a high
panel truck into a three-story parking structure. I entered the
gate of the structure at the same speed I usually did in my
small, two-door sedan; the result was that from the high seat
of the truck I perceived the transverse cement beam of the
roof coming at my head. I could not stop the truck in time
and the feeling I got was that the cement beam was scalping
me. I had never driven a motor vehicle which was as high as
that truck, thus I was incapable of making the necessary per-
ceptual adjustments. The space between the roof of the truck
and the roof of the parking structure seemed nonexistent for
me. I felt the beam with my scalp.
That day I drove for hours inside the structure, giving my
body a chance to store the memory of that ticklish sensation.
I faced the two girls and wanted to tell them that I had just
found out where they lived. I desisted. There was no way of
describing to them that the ticklish sensation had made me
remember a casual remark that don Juan had once made as
we passed a house on our way to Pablito’s place. He had
pointed out an unusual feature in the surroundings and said
that that house was an ideal place for quietness but was not a
place to rest. I drove them there.
Their house was rather big. It was also an adobe structure
with a tile roof like dona Soledad’s. It had one long room in
the front, a roofed, open-air kitchen in back of the house, a
huge patio next to the kitchen and an area for chickens beyond
the patio. The most important part of their house, however,
was a closed room with two doors, one opening to the front
room and the other to the back. Lidia said that they had built
it themselves. I wanted to see it, but both of them said that it
was not the appropriate time because Josefina and la Gorda
were not present to show me the parts of the room that be-
longed to them.
In the corner of the front room there was a sizable, built-in
brick platform. It was about eighteen inches high and had
been constructed like a bed with one end against the wall.
Lidia put some thick straw mats on its flat top and urged me to
lie down and sleep while they watched over me.
Rosa had lit a lantern and hung it on a nail above the bed.
There was enough light to write. I explained to them that
writing eased my tension and asked if it bothered them.
Why do you have to ask? Lidia retorted. Just do it!
In the vein of a perfunctory explanation I told them that I
had always done some things, such as taking notes, which were
strange even to don Juan and don Genaro and would perforce
be strange to them.
We all do strange things, Lidia said dryly.
I sat down on the bed under the lantern, with my back
against the wall. They lay down next to me, one on each side.
Rosa covered herself with a blanket and went to sleep as if all
she needed to do was to lie down. Lidia said that then was the
appropriate time and place for us to talk, although she would
prefer that I turn off the light because it made her sleepy.
Our conversation in the darkness centered around the
whereabouts of the other two girls. She said that she could not
even imagine where la Gorda was, but that Josefina was un-
doubtedly in the mountains, still looking for Nestor, even
though it was dark. She explained that Josefina was the most
capable one to take care of herself in eventualities such as
being in a deserted place in the dark. That was the reason why
la Gorda had selected her to run that errand.
I mentioned that in listening to them talk about la Gorda I
had formed the opinion that she was the boss. Lidia replied
that la Gorda was indeed in charge, and that the Nagual him-
self had put her in command. She added that even if he had
not done so, la Gorda would have taken over, sooner or later,
because she was the best.
I was compelled at that point to light the lantern in order to
write. Lidia complained that the light made it impossible to
stay awake, but I prevailed.
What makes la Gorda the best? I asked.
She has more personal power, she said. She knows
everything. Besides, the Nagual taught her how to control
people.
Do you envy la Gorda for being the best?
I used to, but not now.
Why did you change?
I finally accepted my fate, as the Nagual told me.
And what is your fate?
My fate. . . my fate is to be the breeze. To be a dreamer.
My fate is to be a warrior.