Salsa Dreams by Speculative Fiction Authors (classic literature list .TXT) 📖

How was I to know I was a Hotsalsaphobic, I didn't even know what salsa was until I married this Mexican girl.

Turns out she inherited one of the largest salsa companies in the world. She wanted to change the name to Narwhal Salsa; until she realized I was afraid of the stuff. Now it seems she will stop at nothing to make me the poster boy for the hottest salsa in the world.

Finally it all came together, my phobia and the high doses of hot salsa brought about these weird hallucinations.

***

 One of the nicer nurses said I was greatly improving and of course, she was lying.   I remember with instant-long flashes the terrors that gripped me in the night. PTSD would be paradise compared to the nightly sessions of gore and horror that ravaged the wasteland of my subconscious each time I fell asleep.

Just last night, a countless number of crimson peppers thundered down from the sky. There were massive ones the size of cargo ships which soared amongst the ominous thunder-clouds like waxy zeppelins. Habaneros cruised down city streets like taxis, carrying their peppery passengers, and jalapenos marched in large, uniform groups like spicy soldiers. And they were all after me.

A particularly sentient jalapeno, Commander Lopez, wobbled up to me.

"Serrendarr ah wance, amiho!" He spoke with a thick, Puerto Rican accent. Though he had no mouth or un-pepper like features to speak of save for his hat and medals. I could feel the sounds emanating from deep within his evil being.

I opened my mouth to protest, but let out a shrill scream instead. He had blasted my face with pepper spray, burning my eyes, nose, and mouth. Pain seared through my entire skull as tears streamed down my face. My impulsive caterwauling attracted the attention of the behemoth Ghost Pepper.

Standing at about 50 meters tall, its perilous orange hue lit up the dark and stormy fields with its brightness. Its pepper-steps pounded the ground so hard I felt the ground shake as it stormed towards me, and I could feel its murderous breath like a burning, sweltering wind as it towered over my head, dripping juice so strong it burnt the grass around me.

It had been about two and a half years since the nuclear reactor meltdown in Fukushima, but I could still remember the chilling images of mutated plant and animal growth, one of which being this "Pepperzilla" He was just an unfortunate victim of genetic manipulation due to radiation.

When I woke a lovely nurse with big green eyes stared down at me. She said, "This probably was the worst, but it was your last session Mr. Narwhal. You are now completely cured of your morbid fear of hot salsa." She said this with a wink, before turning into a unicorn. Then she jumped through the wall and disappeared from view.

***

It was then that I realized I was still in the dream. This time I was standing in a lab full of test tubes and Petri plates.  I was a scientist trying to figure out the chemical makeup of salsa, and the swimming ability of Narwhals. “Great, he came again!” I said, looking in the microscope. It was a miniature of my home, I watched as a man, me, went into the refrigerator, removed a bowl of salsa, and began to eat it with chips. “Every day I tell him to go away, but he's never there to hear me. Only when I'm concentrating on a vital task, like driving or looking through a microscope, can I hear him screaming insults and nonsensical slurs in my head?”  I raised my head to stare at me, “Time to wake up Saul.”

  I woke with a start, sweating. It stuck my shirt to my skin and beaded down my face. I quickly looked around the room and I realized I was in our bed. I exhaled relieved wiping away sweat. 'That nightmare didn't help me much. I still DO NOT like salsa or kids...' I thought sitting up in bed.

I looked next to me at my sleeping wife. I shook my head watching her sleeping in peace, wondering what she was dreaming about. Something serene I thought as I got up to put on my robe. I tried to ignore the whispers of those dreams going on in my head. I went to the medicine cabinet and took out the pink bottle to calm my stomach, so I could prepare for the school day. Then I went downstairs to make coffee.

"What's wrong with you? Looks like you had a rough night," my wife asked, as she entered the kitchen.

When I told her about the multiple nightmares, Rosita laughed and said, “I did warn you about not having my hot salsa just before bedtime...didn't I? You never learn, do you?"

I shook my head and laughed at her comment. “I don’t like salsa Rosita, I told you that.” But of course I had eaten half a bowl.

She kissed me and smiled "Saul, just admit it, salsa just doesn’t like you."

Publication Date: 10-26-2013

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