The day I first dreamt in English

My ESL teacher and classmates hoped for it,

I waited for it.

Have you ever dreamt in a language that is not yours?

That day we all celebrated my milestone met,

the same way we did for my friends,

Umesh and Nga, my partners in crime,

except Umesh stopped dreaming in Nepali,

and Nga in Burmese, back then.

Have you ever dreamt in your mother tongue again?

My grandma still speaks Spanish.

My mom and her grandma,

they never spoke in English.

But in my dreams I do no speak again,

And they speak a mix of both.

In my dreams, my soul gets lost.

In my dreams, my inner child hides.

She has been hiding from me since that day,

the day I first dreamt in English.

I have an accent when I’m awake,

and a white man prefers that,

because at the grocery store,

you must not speak your own language.

A broken English is better.

A broken soul is better.

Have you ever been told to go back to your country?

Was it when you were awake, or while dreaming?

Ever since that day,

I dream of going back to where I came from.

Except I no longer dream in my own language,

and little by little,

I forget the path I took to get here.

Have you ever forgotten how to go back home?

The street you used to tell the taxi driver,

“la siguiente a la derecha”.

If I stay here much longer,

like in a dream,

one forbidden day,

I will forget how to speak to my grandma,

and how to walk myself back home.

But until then,

wide awake,

on this side of the wall,

I dream of meeting her again.

Eloisa, la que se esconde en mis sueños—

la que no habla ingles,

la que todavía espera despertar en su salón de secundaria,

la que espera poder volver a hablar,

yo también te espero.

Te extraño.