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Dream

Three

      ∆ Three ∆

I dreamed an entire journey, as long as a pilgrimage through deserts and mountains.

I had been entrusted with the divine mission of carrying special ingredients to the finest pastry chef in the universe, so that he could bake a cake which I would then offer to God Himself.

I feel time dilating. It stretches so far that the sensation of movement merges with the eternity into which I, too, dissolve, like a drop of water gathered up by a flowing river.

By the time I reached the grand destination, the Vodafone shop on the corner by the market, I was already another person.

Inside the shop, Mr. Pastry Chef and his entire team were waiting for me, all of them Shaolin monks, warriors of Peace.

They resembled those characters with mercenary pasts who now perform noble work so that their debt to the Universe may finally be repaid.

While I waited, a conflict began to emerge. The entire sky had turned black, exactly like the skies over America in the regions and seasons of catastrophic tornadoes.

The great moment had arrived. God was coming so that we could settle accounts...

Just as I had passed through that eternity, I pass through time into the culminating moment, there inside the shop, turning the aluminum tray in a wood-fired oven stoked to its limit, the fire roaring along the curve of a vault...

A fantastic vault forming above the offering!

I, too, was a little Taoist.

...And I step outside...

Looking out toward the sky, I watch it split from horizon to horizon along the path of the sun, and,
exactly like the shell of an egg that had protected us, it shatters and disappears.

Making way for a transcendental, divine, abstract sky... The heavens had become fluorescent purple, alive and animated.

Through the air descended the entities of that Outer Sphere, abstract and intricate symbols.

The laws of physics became personified and floated through the air, taking forms somewhere at the intersection of Dalí, Van Gogh, and Picasso.

In place of the sun, this terrifying God had appeared, before whom all the monks assembled in formation and bowed with grace, kneeling upon one knee with their eyes lowered toward the earth.

They did not even dare to look toward the Truth, but I, staring directly into the anomaly, see...

1,
2,
3!

    Three sides of equal measure...!

              ° A Triangle ∆ stood in the sky! °

A Triangle that defied the structure and integrity of reality, whose aura was making my brain short-circuit!

As its outline grew clearer, I realized that this particular god before whom we were falling to our knees was merely the left corner of the Triangle.

    That was all.

The other two were not even present upon the same plane as the rest of us.

We could not look for long. I did not even possess the capacity to observe more than a single corner, although whenever I closed my eyes, I felt as though I were a child again, staring at geometric shapes upon paper while hearing about the fantastic history of ancient times and clever Pythagoras.

Fantastic was the feeling of that age, an age whose reality followed an entirely different set of laws, one in which no limits to thought appeared to exist.

∆ The Triangle then spoke.

All I still remember is how silence descended, a radical silence that entered my existence through every possible point of access.

At the diametrically opposite extreme, as long as eternity had been, just that suddenly I found myself back in my bed, sweating, staring at the ceiling.