Nightlights

That’s what sleep is for, she said, with the finality of an oracle. I asked her what the heck she meant.

“That’s when they install upgrades. Think about it, Lita. Why do we need to sleep? Scientists don’t know.”

“I’m pretty sure scientists have it figured out.”

Come to think of it, I did recall a byline proclaiming that we, at bottom, did not really know what sleep was for, but I kept this to myself. I was hangry and wanted to argue.

“That’s not true. It doesn’t make any evolutionary sense!”

“I presume this is all according to Miguel?”

Miguel Fornero was a Puerto Rican UFOlogist beloved by the Fanáticos de lo Paranormal group my mom had joined in Santo Domingo.

“No, according to Doña Gladys’ latest transmission. Miguel did a LumenPost Live with her when she received it. She was in trance.”

“Who are these people supposedly talking to her?”

“They’re not people, Lita. They’re entities. Beings. From Sirius A. Or maybe it’s B. Doña Gladys describes them as tall, blue, and made out of light. Here, let me show you the video.”

“Ma, I’m driving!”

The Hyundai drove like a rattling tin can, gas pedal both resistant and obliging to the gravitational force of my espadrille, even after hours of driving.

“And, listen to this,” she continued, “the beings told Doña Gladys that the south will be a center of UFO activity in the next few years. Isn’t that amazing?”

I pursed my lips.

The south in question bordered Haiti. A desert. A savanna, actually. Short cacti dotted the dusty landscape. Yellow and, near the shore further south, an ochre prized by copper mining companies. Some peasants had recorded lights moving around their night sky a few months earlier. I saw the video and figured they were just laser beams from a local colmadón. Or drones signaling the landing of a shipment on one of the nearby rocky shores. One time, the local police busted a truck driver with 303 decoy plantains filled with cocaine. The news anchor described the ceramic plantains as “artisanal,” which cracked me up.

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Image: Franz Caba, Quien busca, encuentra. 2024, Private Collection. Usage permitted courtesy of the artist.