woke up in Reims, not knowing it was Reims. He was disoriented, having an unknown landscape and listening to a language that had meaning only in movies, in the mouths of two men riding in two horses, a few meters from where I was. My little culture made me hesitate from Catalan, Portuguese or French. I knew it was this last long after even the sentence.
had vineyards as far as covering my eyes. The blue sky contrasted with so much green. How had she come there? Where was I? I walked a good stretch, towards a kind of castle that once stood in the middle of fields of vines, with reference to the way in which two people were riding.
As I approached I realized that this construction was not modern, but that would have its good years. Anyway, it was inhabited, because it maintained the facade and care well access roads.
But I could not get close to a hundred yards of the huge gate which was input. A shotgun blast came only six inches of my right foot and ran away, turning my steps. I fled to the bushes, trying to spot the offender. Then I saw him at the top of the castle.
was a man, so that could be seen. I was half-hidden, but every time I looked out to spy, I could see his bald head, and check the force grabbing the gun, intending to keep shooting if necessary.
not understand either the reason for the aggression. Much less than was there in that place. I was slipping away, not lift his body, being sheltered by the same vegetation of the site.
walked again in another direction. I followed a dirt road several miles and finally saw in the distance, coming toward my two kids on bikes. They made signs, waving his hands. The boys stopped and cursed my luck, probably had been frightened by my movements. Shouted something and directed their bicycles in the opposite direction. Came pedaling hard, as fleeing from a ghost.
I opted not to grumble, at least I knew I had to go that route. Children go to a town or city, or at least, to a house in which I could explain. I walked with the sun behind him, kicking small stones that they passed before my feet. The horizon seemed endless vineyards.
I went to hear voices in that language foreign to my ears. Were many and the feeling was approaching. I saw this when leaving a kind of diversion, which began a tree planting. Could be seen from that place a moving crowd to where it was. A procession? It was my first thought, until I saw the sticks, scythes and knives in the hands of those people.
Seeing me, some began to run. Will I be attacked? Voices were raised and appeared to cry. I ran. And I realized that they accelerated. Indeed, they wanted to get me.
was then running at an unknown location, fleeing a crowd of madmen shouting in a strange language, and almost airless. I still scare lasted the shooting, but could not distract me. I went into the vineyards, believing that losing achieved there, but it was a complication. Branches hurt me and stop my walk.
I suddenly found myself surrounded. There men on each side, brandishing their weapons. By instinct rather than courage, I faced a couple, but a sharp blow on his neck left me lying on the moist, fertile soil of the vines.
I went to wake up, again with the strange sensation of being in the wrong place. The angry crowd was still there, in front of me. But there was no vineyards around. I had taken a seat and I had tied to a wooden post. I could see the city. I was surprised, like a place stuck in the early years of last century. The homes, architecture.
Far away, at the end of the widest street, could see a large wooden sign engraved in letters painted in blue. The handwriting was exquisite and said, "Reims." The name looked familiar to me, a city in another country. Could not be sure. People talked to each other and was visibly angry. Not only was tied, but had branches and logs at my feet.
Then I knew what I was about to happen. That was a bonfire. I had to catch fire, right there in that city. French! For some strange reason (another one) on that fateful day, the language came to my head. Reims spoke French and was in France.
I tried to speak, but realized that her mouth was gagged. Two men came with torches, while a woman came to be sprayed with alcohol, mixed with some other liquid that aroma was strong, almost unbearable.
Immediately, one of the men looked at the people and recited a few words. People cheered loudly. Turned away and threw torches at my feet. The combustion was immediate and a cloud of fire surrounded me completely, bringing a flood of heat so intense as hell itself.
Before closing the eyes, the flames showed me a reflection of my face and I saw stopped me: it was not mine. And with eyes closed and the fire licking the flesh, I tried to comprehend the incomprehensible. It was not me, could not be, not my face, my body perhaps not much miss my city and my time.
awoke to screams again. But this time I did not know he had awakened, still felt the heat used, the pain in the joints to melt, the burning of each member. In short, I felt like I was dying. I heard the sound of a door and people came running. They threw me in bed and I had an injection.
I did not sleep, but the pain subsided and sank into a kind of been on the verge of sleep, but conscious at all times. Hours later returned them, who had helped me. They wore green and blue robes, with masks of the same color. I asked what had
been this time.
- How this time?
- Always the same with you, well ... Do not you remember, but every time you sleep you deeply, you travel inside a person about to die and revivís his last hours. Noting come for nine years, seeking a relationship.
- Nine years? But ... Who am I? Where am I?
- We do not mind the first thing you do not mind the latter. If you want us help you, tell us this experience, then we see.
And then I told them. Narrated for nearly an hour. They were interested in some details, especially the geographic location. But they gave me no clue what I passed, but the explanation simple and direct. When finished, I left a couple of pills and left.
not even greeted. Not a gesture of humanity in their actions. I took the pills, thinking they were for pain. But I did dream. I guess I are sleeping, for it to happen again.
not I'll die this time, but I imagine it will not miss the pain. How strange to know that I head to death helplessly. But still having a fleeting awareness that this repetition of my actions invariably happen again and again, unable to prevent it, without having the will to say enough.
I am doomed. Several times, in a meaningless eternity.
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