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2- Before to love us

Another thing that I remember perfectly from that first dream is the tremendous scare I got when I heard someone else saying my name so suddenly. Until that exact moment, the silence had remained so intact, so strong, that suddenly hearing any sound other than my breathing, or the crazy buzz that the wild beating of my heart threw against my ears, it felt like someone I would have jerked back the rug from under my feet, as if I had been going down a staircase and, out of distraction, had missed a step. It was a good scare, yes, but as soon as I was able to heal from it and turned around, it ended up turning into real amazement as I saw that the one who had spoken was none other than my grandmother, Ruth. A couple of meters away, dressed in her usual bright sweaters and her everlasting smile tattooed on her face, the grandmother looked at me attentively, as if anxiously waiting for something, although without ceasing to show me the immense affection she showed me. He always let us see every time his eyes landed on me. In any other circumstance, or rather in any other dream that I could have labeled common or current, the presence of the grandmother could have gone unnoticed, as one more resource that my subconscious used to summarize everything I had experienced. during the day, but within that dream so vivid, so special, and despite the doubts and reluctances that still stuck to me like a fly on honey, I knew just by looking at her that she had not appeared by chance.

"You've finally made it, my girl," he told me, still smiling. You have finally started the path that will lead you to the recognition of your own being, an immense blessing that I have always longed for you.

I was about to answer him when I was interrupted by the sudden change in the environment that sheltered us. It happened so quickly that even today I can't find a way to accurately describe it. Turning a page, changing the channel on a television or even blinking are actions that, in comparison, dwarf and become rather slow and lazy acts. Grandma and I were standing in unfathomable darkness, and the next moment we were in a completely different landscape, much more beautiful and at the same time also more bewildering than the last. It was a beautiful plain, with green grass blowing in the wind, a bright sun above us, and an abundance of plants, trees, and shrubs scattered everywhere in seemingly random, but no less beautiful ways. Both the sight and the aroma of the place itself were intoxicating to the point that I wanted to spend an eternity and a half enjoying them, but the idea disappeared from my head as soon as I noticed the easel in front of me, on which there was a painting that was familiar to me, although I could not discover why.

"What's that?" I asked Grandma, pointing to the easel.

Seeming to be just as confused as I was, Grandma shrugged before replying:

-Don't know. Maybe it's a sign.

"Signal?" I replied, turning to look at her. A sign of what?

—That your future awaits you.

— How can a dream show me my future?

"Oh my girl, you know as well as I do that this isn't an ordinary dream," she told me with a lopsided smile, something halfway between a mocking grimace and one of pity. Before I could say anything else, he pointed to something behind me and added, "Look, there's the proof of what I'm saying."

When I turned in the direction that his finger was pointing, I came face to face with what is now my house, though of course I didn't know it at the time. My parents, grandmother and I had always lived in a modest house in the center of the city, a residence that made things much easier for us in terms of school and work, however, when the doctor told us that the best for my grandmother's health it was to look for a quiet and natural country environment for at least a few months, my parents sold it without a word and bought the beautiful colonial-type house in which we are living right now. Of course, I was so used to city life that at first it was very difficult for me to adapt. Now that I have been able to take the time to appreciate this new environment, I understand that it was a decision that not only helped Grandma, but also me and my parents. Right now I can safely say that I love the country air in the morning, the scent of wild flowers, the taste of dew, the sound of the river... the animals... the landscapes. It's something I've grown to love over time, although at first it was hard for me to get used to the idea. As happened to me with that first dream, which at the time seemed too improbable to me, until, of course, time passed and I saw that the house we were moving to turned out to be the same as that time.

"Are you still not asleep?"

As soon as she heard her grandmother's voice, she turned off the humidifier, and after leaving it on the nightstand, which is usually her usual place, she turned to her and smiled at her. Standing on the threshold of my room, she smiles at me in that very personal way she has before finishing entering, and with a bit of difficulty thanks to the inclement age that hugs her bones, she sits in front of me on the floor, both in the same relaxed position that he taught me a long time ago. As always, there is such good communication between us that there is no need to talk, because what for others means uncomfortable silences that often end up being filled with meaningless or purposeless chatter, for us they represent the perfect opportunity to tell each other with our eyes. everything that words are unable to communicate. In short, we have learned to speak from the soul, using the brilliance that escapes through us to say everything we want, feel and desire. It is for this reason, for that same connection that I appreciate so much, that I can easily recognize the concern that is hidden behind his smile.

"What's wrong with you?" I ask her, only because I don't want to invade her space, because I want to give her the time and the freedom to tell me herself, since it was enough for me to look at her for a couple of extra seconds to know what happens to him

And although she knows very well that she can't cheat on me just as I can't cheat on her either, she insists on doing it:

— Nothing, my girl, it's nothing.

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