sábado, 24 de agosto de 2013

Celebration of a dream.

The night is almost over. 
The dawn is whispering in my ear: the dream has to come to an end. Everything has.

I don't want to wake up. I want to keep sweating, I want to keep dancing like crazy without even listening to the music, I want to participate in this ritual as if there were no tomorrows.

Images from the last month superpose themselves like a collage. I hear a language I can barely follow, I speak a language that seems to deliver the message of my heart, I see people in a tent, laughing out loud, toasting for wishes fulfilled, looking up in the air and seeing their own monsters fighting a fight that feels and looks like a dance.

I'm flying, and from my seat I can see myself swept away by an angel who promised me I would become immortal.
I run in circles, escaping oldness, pursuing my youth that seems to be at hands reach but, still, impossible to grab. I'm crying, I see a forefinger with an impressive silver ring that points at an imaginary door that opens slowly to reveal a white light that scares a part of me. The piano is playing a melody that I recognize, although I've never heard it. I turn faster and faster, the platform rises while I'm still running, but my feet don't touch the floor anymore.

I open my eyes, it's midnight and I'm hugging the entertained, being the first to say Happy Birthday to him. I give him the present I found for him. He asks how did I know he would like the flower so much. She reminds him that I'm a magician.
The celebration begins to take shape.
The Conde, dressed in his robe, comes to me and says something I don't understand. The doll smiles at me, and I would swear that she is more alive than most of the people I know. The kids ask if the movements they are practicing are correct. I smile at them, I smile at myself reflected in their eyes. The music starts and one by one the heads are turned to the dance floor, modestly at first, until the bodies slowly erupt like baby volcanos. I know I won't be able to follow them, the party is other people's celebration, not mine.

I find myself talking about hugs to a woman whose arms have been crossed over her chest since the beginning of our conversation. But I know she is somehow open to listen, to receive, even as she fights with someone inside of her who refuses to let her go.
I find myself speaking a strange language again, this time learning about pampering, thru the blushing cheeks of a woman who taught me a lesson without saying a word.
I find myself wanting them to stay in my dream long enough, because I know there is a tipping point in every dream where fantasy and reality cannot be distinguished from each other anymore.

There is a man who keeps trying to explain something I understood before he started explaining. There is another man, looking for his lost self. There is a man who believes he has the solution to every problem, there is a woman who has a question for every answer. There is a woman who learned how to trust again, there is a man who struggles with his guilt for something he didn't do. There is a woman who tenderly takes care of us from the shadow. There is a shadow, who becomes each one of us, reflecting our darkness in the most loving way. His girl has eyes for him and him alone, but in her eyes we can learn to love better, to love like never before, like never again.

Now the image blurs. I cannot recognize myself even when I know I'm the one feeling intensely what surrounds me, feeling the party somehow became my own celebration, my own birthday party, my own funeral, my own rebirth. The oldest soul in the room points to me something I already knew, while the little girl throws ice cubes at me from the distance, always from the distance. And I surrender to the fact that It's almost time to say farewell and let go.

I'm driving home. My car is full of round colored dots. Each dot is a soul, and thru them I can get back to each moment dreamed, lived, enjoyed. I'm listening to an aria from Le Nozze di Figaro, and I smile while remembering the first time I saw the opera, in 2006. After three hours and a half of crying and laughing harder than ever before in my life, feeling things I have never felt before that day, I finally found out what does it mean to party, to celebrate, to honor existence at its full extent.

I didn't want the performance to end.

It didn't.

Jansenson Magia

Jansenson Magia
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