The Caravan of Sleep

The people of the mountains referred to it as the Caravan of Sleep. It made his triumphant and pompous entrance along the Royal Trail, breaking the cold torpor of the mountain, bathing the gray world of that eternal winter with colors and criers. A carriage pushed by two muscular horses led the row of noisy wooden carts and beds on wheels, occupied by people taking a nap. A dingy sign, written in red paint, stood at the front of the caravan: “The End of all ailments.”

Long lines formed since early in front of the nomads. A slender, bearded man, wearing a black velvet frock coat, climbed to the roof of the main float, raised a brass megaphone to his mouth, and announced the new wonder that would change the course of humanity. He called it: Anesthesia.

–Behold, my mourners, what will put an end to your miseries! –the man shouted at the top of his lungs–. Fear no more insomnia, broken bones or the sharp blade of the sword! –He held up a small bottle sealed with cork and, inside it, a transparent liquid like water.

A rumor spread that they were being sold a vinegar placebo, but despite the disbelief of many, the residents rushed forward with their wallets in the air, willing to take the risk of being scammed. As the mayor's wife said between giggles to avoid the embarrassment of being the only one deceived: "You never know."

The effectiveness of the new invention was undeniable: insomnia became a problem of the past, in fact, it was even said that people were now sleeping too much. Little by little they began to find new uses for the miraculous liquid. The women applied the product to their feet to make wearing heels a less torturous experience. Any child who had tantrums was put into a deep nap, giving parents the opportunity to attend movies and theaters without the shame of their heartbreaking and inconsolable crying. It was even discovered that broken-hearted lovers used it to soothe the pains of the soul. The gardeners watered small doses on the plants so that they would not suffer when pruning them, and it was even proposed to apply anesthesia to the land to prevent earthquakes.

In homes it was now considered rude to offer tea or coffee without an anesthetic drip along with the sugar. The high demand turned the miraculous liquid into an essential product, until little by little the administrator of the caravan was unable to cover the orders of the entire population. The price for the vials increased and in a few days the anesthetic floozy became a luxury destined for a few wealthy people.

Very strong infusions of chamomile and brandy were mixed on the black market, claiming to have the same effectiveness as the original. As a result, insomnia came with greater force, and even children attended classes with a hangover from the doses of liquor in the false anesthesia. The town was now a cemetery of living, absorbed, compulsive and exhausted people.

The Caravan of Sleep sensed that it was time to continue on their way to resupply raw materials and other ingredients, all scarce in the cold aridity of the mountains, and find a new town where they could set up their tarantines. The carts and stretchers were tied to the float, the horses were fed, and the sign was put away. As they passed through the streets, they were greeted by small groups of desperate addicts, who had welded wheels to the legs of their rusty beds. They chained them one after another, like the cars of a train, and allowed themselves to be guided by the so-called anesthesiologists, joining the eternal journey of a sleepy, nomadic and painless life.