Todos los domingos por la tarde era lo mismo, Raúl siempre pedía permiso a su mamá para ir a la casa de la abuela y escuchar esas historias mágicas que tanto le gustan a uno cuando uno está bicho, sobre todo esa historia del extraño don que desde siempre había acompañado a los Marín.
Mama Tancho contaba que los Marín jamás soñaban con personas que conocían salvo cuando éstas iban a morir, y a Raúl le gustaba tanto escuchar esa historia porque de todas las que había escuchado contar a su abuela esa era la única que parecía ser cierta: él no recordaba haber soñado jamás ni con su mamá o su papá o sus hermanos, tampoco con sus amigos o sus primos o siquiera con los vecinos.
Esa fue la historia preferida de Raúl hasta ese sabado que se hizo domingo mientras él soñaba.
Ese domingo por la tarde Raúl no pidió permiso para ir a la casa de su abuela sino que se quedó en la suya llorando a la par de su mamá.
*Espero no haberme excedido con esto. Las últimas entradas sobre sueños y paradojas y demás que Raúl Marín ha posteando me llevaron a escribir esto.
Primeras veces
Hace 2 años
Dreams... I don’t usually remember unless they’re especially portentous. You know what that word means, portentous? Means when you dream about something that’s going to happen. Like one night, I had a dream where this crow came and told me, “Your Aunt is going to die.” I was so scared I woke up my parents. They told me it was just a dream, to go back to bed. But the next morning, my Aunt was dead.
ResponderEliminarAnd think about me, young boy with that kind of power. Wasn’t three weeks later that the crow came back to me in a dream and said, “Your Grampa is going to die.” Well, I ran right back to my parents. My father said, no, Gramps is fine, but I could see there was trepidation. And true enough, that next morning my Grampa was dead.
For the next couple weeks, I didn’t have another dream. Until one night the crow came back and said, “Your Daddy is going to die.” Well, I didn’t know what to do. But finally I told my father. And he said not to worry, but I could tell he was rattled. That next day, he wasn’t himself, always looking around, waiting for something to drop on his head. Because the crow didn’t tell how it was going to happen, just those words: your Daddy is going to die. Well, he went into town early and was gone for a long time. And when he finally came back, he looked terrible, like he was waiting for the axe to fall all day. He said to my mother, “Good God. I just had the worst day of my life.” “You think you’ve had a bad day,” she said. “This morning the milkman dropped dead on the porch!”
xDD Tenía que usar este chiste de Big Fish. :P
:O!
ResponderEliminarhoy Raúl es protagonista de cuentos D: