Analyze This

I could write an entire blog post about the inappropriate things I've said in Spanish because I haven't understood context or haven't had more formal words to express myself, but it turns out I'm just as bad in dream states.

I'm sure I dream.  The problem is, I rarely remember them.  Sometimes I can remember that I had a really awesome dream, but I won't recall the actual content.  I might vividly recall a few dreams a year.

A few nights ago I had such a dream.

I have heard that you really know a language or think in a language when you begin to dream in that language.  I'm still waiting for that moment when I dream in Spanish.  Of course, since I hardly ever remember my dreams, it's possible that most of my dreams are in Spanish.  But I doubt it.

The dream I had a few nights ago was the first dream I can recall in which I spoke Spanish.  Not much Spanish, mind you, but a little.

I was at the hospital laboring with Santiago.  I was sweaty and irritable and focusing really intently on getting the little guy out.  As I was struggling to maintain concentration, Ernesto and the obstetrician (who is a very funny guy in real life too) were having a conversation, laughing and joking about something.  I felt angrier and angrier with them and gave them both a look of death, teeth bared and nostrils flaring.  But they kept up with the banter as I got explosively livid.

Finally, I looked at them and yelled at the top of my lungs (it reverberated through the halls of the hospital), "CALLATE HUEVÓN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!".

Now, really, I should have yelled "callense" since my comment was directed at the doctor and Ernesto (as opposed to one of them), but why would I expect my dream Spanish to be correct when my actual Spanish is a grammatical nightmare?

Anyway, "Callate huevón" is not a very nice thing to say and certainly isn't something you learn in school.  It's the equivalent of saying, "Shut the hell up!"

Of course, I learned this phrase (along with many other slang expressions) from Ernesto.  It's something Ernesto yells at his cousin Diego when Diego is pestering him or annoying him.

I have never said this in real life because I know it's not really appropriate for me to say to anyone.  Yet after two years of learning Spanish, this is what penetrates my dream world.  I'm both fascinated and disturbed.