A faint musical background catches my attention as, still half-asleep with my eyes closed, lying in what feels like a soft bed, I realize that the time for sleep is over.
The music is gentle but distant, probably coming from a nearby apartment. I’ll later discover it’s an old song — Over the Rainbow, sung by Ella Fitzgerald. I like it a lot. Even though those notes seem to cradle my semi-conscious state for a little longer, my eyes open toward the end of the second chorus.
In front of me, a white ceiling with an improbable chandelier of a style I can’t identify. Inside, six LED bulbs clash with the inevitable antiquity of that cluster of metallic arms ending in fake plastic candles. Turning my head slightly, my gaze meets a huge brown wardrobe with an ancient look, looming as if it’s about to fall on me. I think about the difference between “old” and “antique,” unable to find the right adjective for that piece of furniture. In the bedroom, other matching pieces rest against a sea-green wall with poorly glued decorative borders.
From the adjoining room, the voices of a child and a woman scolding him sternly after the usual tantrum suggest that I have a family. Yes, that’s right. Slowly, I begin to recall the past of the body that hosts me — which inevitably becomes my own place and time.
Not all human beings have a soul, and often those who do aren’t aware of it, or they forget it exists. In many cases, the soul is simply dormant, and when the time comes, it can awaken and take control. In this year, many are being called to do just that.
The music gently drifting in from outside has changed. I can’t recognize the tune. I’m awake now. It’s my first day, and there’s a mission to carry out. Time is running out — but not all is lost.
This post is also available in: Italiano (Italian)
