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Rhythmic Moon Day 20 - Yellow Cosmic Seed Year - 1 January, 2006
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Me and Death are walking by the seashore,
talking. (This was a way longer dream, but that's all I remember.)
I look at her. 'Why do you take people from us?,' I ask.
'Why do you picture people as mere pieces of matter?' was her
answer.
'What do you mean?'
'Well, you call "alive" those whose hearts still beat,
and "dead" those whose hearts beat no more, don't you?
But aren't still alive, see if you agree with me, those whose
material lives, even though ended, still influence humankind?
Don't you agree that people, in fact, can only be called "dead"
when there's no-one else to hear the sound when they fall?'
'But when a person—the piece of matter—dies, something
is taken from us, isn't it?'
'The production, you mean? The production may cease, doesn't the
product still remain? Isn't the product, like the echoes in your
head, going to change the way other people produce? Aren't, therefore,
people alive in their friends for their friends' products will
always be their too? Aren't they alive for their legacy will echo
in the thinking sea of humankind, in those who are still materially
alive?'
We walked in silence.
'Can you answer me a question about the future?'
She smiled. Her light green eyes shined in her pale face.
'How could I not?'
'What's going to happen to Pedro?'
She gave me a severe look.
'I think it's time for you to go, Bruno.'
I woke up.
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