When I dream about the storm that ends
I was running up-hill with a smile on my face. I saw the grey sky closing the light as the pine trees turned dark-green and my heart beating at a slow pace. I am determined to arrive to the top, to see the sky closer, so as to clear my doubts out of the ashes of yesterday and year, where everything begins and ends.
I saw many people up there. They were drinking wine and smiling to each other. It seems mild and peaceful and also the climate is wondrous. This people! whom I never met. But everything soon to be change. I see the skies raining snow. It was indeed, a mild afternoon, and I am chilled with the landscape, where the dominant colors was grey and green. Neither sadness nor excessive happiness. It was a light run up to the hill. No heavy breath but I have to continue to run, this time downhill.
As I was running I saw a beach from a far. It was also beautiful. I can see the shore where there are people running towards an end. And all the ships is harboured properly, parked like those pine trees besides the street. It’s a disciplined and inorganic landscape. Soon I can encounter the warmth of the air. The snowing is only on the top. I flirt my eyes for a second to see the last snow from a distance.
Closer to the end, which is a beautiful dutch-colonial house with a modern touch, I come to ask myself: “Where am i?” I keep asking that question until I arrived to the house and found myself to be congratulated with clappings of old people and some people that I knew but of which I didn’t know any names.
I entered the kitchen looking for drinks where I found many people are talking endlessly. I feel like I’m home. I feel like I want to be devoted to these people. To that people on the top. To the soothing snows that falls and all that blessed around there. The wholeness is so comfortable and I don’t want to stop. So I face myself up to the roof, I can see a transparent glass showing moving clouds, anxiously white and grey and sometimes dark, weaving the sky with mysterious threadt and motives.
“What is that?” A women suddenly broke out with a fearful tone and hesitation.
No one answered. But some old man, tried to stand on his own weak feet, pointing at the sky, and while he say, in a slow and bitter tone:
“Storm is coming”, we all hear a tapping on the roof and the whole universe is raining…
I ducked my head and some people hide their body in a shy and paranoid way, fear of something bad will happen. My head was lurking down but my eyes wont roll down. I still see the weaving clouds, the silent rage above the sky. And roaring sounds coming. The thunder blasting. From the sound we can all imagine how it was weaved through the air and destroys everything that It encounters. You can feel the snow and pine trees were being destroyed. The roaring sounds is getting bigger and took a blast in our ears. For sometime soon I feel the house is collapsing. The more closer the sound of the storm comes, the more I stand and looked at the roof. I am wondering. I am afraid. Of a sudden impact that going to ruin the things that I love in my life. Something is retaliating. It is getting closer. Closer as the thunder is rolling and roaring and crashing everything down. And finally it’s on our house, the rolling and roaring sound, the blistering winds, the emptying of hearts. And while our desire was chicken away by the storm, and all of our life concepts and utopia end at that very moment, we suddenly sense the purifying of things, that somehow “having” is the same thing as “losing”.
And the end of everything also feels like a beginning of something.
As the sound of the roaring and rolling thunder end, there are people who still anxiously hiding, a post-apocalypse moment of awakening. And I see some people are also smiling with their teary eyes, full with hope. And when the dramatic moment ends, no one is anxious to go outside…
