The Dreamer

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Chapter 1

«I will soon be back, make yourselves at home, please» - said the man going out. We looked at each other, George and I. It had only been from the morning that we didn’t have a chance to stay alone, however I swear that it seemed to me as if it was an eternity.

«That’s a real story of madness! » he burst out taking a seat in one of the four wood armchairs that were around a circular table in the center of the small room–«This man must be crazy! Let's put him off as soon as is back and let's escape from here, until we are in time»–he added while I was taking a seat in front of him.

«Just a moment, George, maybe it will seem strange to you, but I don't feel afraid of this man! He inspires a sort of trust in me, despite his strangeness».

«But do you realize what you are talking about? Have you gone out of sense too? This man must have some extraordinary powers: hasn't he hypnotized us just slightly before? Have you also heard him talk of super-races and brain's experiments or have I dreamed of it?», George attacked me nervously.

«Be quiet, please, George» - I told him in a calm voice. –«First of all, I don't believe he has hypnotized us, just before. Secondly, if he is really so powerful as you say, what could be his reaction, when we try to immobilize him? Make a point on it: when we arrived here, we were both sleepy. Therefore if he wanted to use us as guinea-pigs, two punctures were enough for him to knock us down! On the other hand I have not seen yet neither cats resembling mice, nor men with a square brain! Who can be sure that the old man is not inventing everything? It would not surprise me if this story derived from the imagination of some fantastical writer. I want to go to the end of all these circumstances. Don’t you also want to know what kind of job's proposal Mr Winningoes is going to make for us?»

George gazed for a long time into my eyes, thoughtfully. Then, without answering, he relaxed on the back of the chair, releasing the muscles and breathing deeply.

He stood with half open eyes crossing at once the feet and the hands softly on the womb, with the right hand covering the palm of the left one. He seemed to me almost slept, while only the breath animated his body.

Won by all those unexpected and subsequent emotions, I also imitated him doing my best on sitting comfortably on the wood ancient chair.

to be continued...

The story of Mr Winningoes - 2

He recommended himself to my comprehension, since he had acted for my own goodness, leaving me out, considering also my youth age, from the clamors and from the shame of the scandal that had overwhelmed our honorable name, and he finally, remembered me, that only God can judge men’s operates .That atrocious contradiction induced me to hate also “his” God. If only Him, could judge men’s behaviors, why did he denounce my mother to a Court of men?!? - “

That regrettable question concluded the monologue of our guest, to which we had assisted in religious silence but with long live share.

While evoking his memoirs, that I imagined remote for forgetful time in his mind; above all speaking of his mother, in his voice a veiled tone of emotion had appeared.

And I don't know if I really perceived a mist in his eyes, ‘cause it  lasted only for a bit: after pouring a glass of water and drinking it with avarice, he fleetingly passed a candid napkin on his face, with which he suddenly cancelled any trace of it. Then he stayed immovably, absorbed in his sad memoirs, or perhaps picking up ideas to continue his story. George had followed him for the whole time with the chin supported  by the closed fists on the edge of the table. Without proffering a word he lit a cigarette and soon after pushed the packet to me. With peaceful and indifferent tone, Mr Winningoes took back on his speech.

-“The same day I knew by my teacher that I was the only heir of my mother’s estates, and that since the day of her death, he had been its honest and prudent administrator, as he would show to me in his detailed account.

That man, I had so much hated and blamed, now that his ungrateful charge had come to end, seemed to me good and comprehensive, and his words calmed for a few time my incurable pain. By now, however, I had also to think about my life, and in those places I would never succeeded in shaking off  my sad past. I begged the reverend to continue to administer my goods and I departed, to the discovery of the world.

2. to be continued...
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The Essence of life - Chapter 1

The Story of Mr Winningoes - 2. 

That regrettable question concluded the monologue of our guest, to which we had assisted in religious silence but with long live share. While evoking his memoirs, that I imagined remote for forgetful time in his mind; above all speaking of his mother, in his voice a veiled tone of emotion had appeared. And I don't know if I really perceived a mist in his eyes.
It was matter of an instant: after pouring a glass of water and drinking it with avarice, he fleetingly passed a candid napkin on his face, with which he suddenly cancelled any trace of it. Then he stayed immovably, absorbed in his sad memoirs, or perhaps picking up ideas to continue his story.
George had followed him for the whole time with the chin supported to the closed fists on the edge of the table. Without proffering a word he lit a cigarette and soon after pushed them towards me. With peaceful and indifferent tone, Mr Winningoes took back on his speech.
“The same day I knew by my guardian that I was the only heir of my mother’s estates, and that since the day of her death, whose he had been the honest and prudent administrator , as he would show to me in his account. That man, I had so much hated and blamed, now that his ungrateful charge had come to end, seemed to me good and comprehensive, and his words calmed for a few time my incurable pain. By now, however, I had also to think about my life, and in those places I would never succeeded in shaking off me my sad past. I begged the reverend to continue to administer my goods and I departed, to the discovery of the world.
I travelled at first through the United States, then I went to Canada, Australia, New Zealand. After I visited Europe, without never finding the courage to return to my country. Tired of the European Countries, among which I mostly liked your Italy , I departed to India and finally, always curious of new lands, I went to Africa.
Neither women, neither alcohol, nor drugs not even the vices which I was devoted in those years succeeded in cancelling my bitter memoirs, until one day, while I was sojourning in Kenya, I fell ill, prey of strong fevers. Not a lot, then I gave, to live or die, but the Fate, had evidently prepared, that I survived, so that the programs could be realized, whose I will have the honour and the pleasure to communicate to you. Revealed therefore from the illness, I returned to America aiming however to south, that I had not visited yet.
Going up again homeward, I stayed for a long time in Mexico, that not little fascinated me. By now being satisfied my curiosity of the world, I preferred to go take over again my studies, more strongly and surely than before. I was kin of all: medicine, biology, physics, mathematics, chemistry, hidden sciences, illusionism, magic arts, engineering, electronics, astrology, philosophy, astronomy, sociology, anthropology, theology, ethnology, history, juridical, economic and political sciences and every other thing attracted my mind curious of reaching new knowledge.
During the numerous years of my following study, it happened on me a gradual mutation that flowed, hitherto a short time, in a great, bright revelation. I had realized, deepening on studies that any single subject lost, little by little, until vanish, their contours and that all acquired information met in a bubbly melting pot, to form just one, immense nucleus of knowledge.
Yes, dear friends: our knowledge is an original, total unity. The single disciplines of human knowledge are but the infinitesimally small fragments that the mankind looks hopelessly for recomposing in to the aboriginal unity.
Two were the necessary consequent corollaries to this thrilling discovery. The first one is that the brain of both animal and human beings constitutes, though at a different evolutionary stadium, a microscopic part of the primordial totality. The second is that human thought search, yet in a blind and messy manner, to recompose, at a mental level, the great, primitive explosion, the Big-Bang, through a long and fatiguing marching back, up to the innumerable light years that separate it, from an equal, roaring and powerful implosion. And if you consider that our mind speculates in the space-time as fast as speed-light, this kind of final Big-Imbang will appear less far than any hasty forecast.
The burst of the second world war caught me surprised on this walk of studies and searches.

Bitterly I was forced to consider that human beings pursued their premature end, rather than the search of the truth. But at that time I hadn't understand yet that every human action, even the most iniquitous and bestial, has however its own reason to be done and for me, that war, would have been another fundamental step on the way of comprehension.
When Germany, violating the accords formerly taken, moved war to England, attaching London, I realized that the right moment had come for me to show that the Parnells loved to fight for freedom, under any flag and against whoever oppressed its exercise. I threw to England and enlisted in the Royal Air Force, despite I have to confess you that, after the betrayal of my father, I felt more Irish than English, also considering that in those days, as it is today, Ireland was divided in two parts, with a part still under the British dominion.
After a brief but intense training I was assigned, as I had required myself, having the pre-requisite for it, to pilot’s hunting squads. Between-whiles of my missions I had the opportunity to deeply analyze the causes of those disastrous events. I had been, it is true, in the years immediately preceding the war completely devoted to my studies, in a way that I could call, purely scientific of the phenomenon which stand at the base of the human life, but it was not certainly in the fore coming years of war that we had to seek the reasons and the causes of it. The roots of hate and evil sank their extreme appendixes in the most tangled and lavish meanders of human mind. These deleterious feelings, so inherent to human mind, were to be conceived like the principal causes of that huge bath of blood.
From these premises I arrived to the puzzling conclusion that the leading conceives of the national socialist philosophy were correct: the humanity, in order to be saved, needed a superior race to be raised over the others for leading them to salvation. But German race could not certainly be the chosen one. Not even any other among the existing could be it, because it had to be a race who didn't know, in their hearts but good and love.
With a greater fury than before, I addressed all my energies against the hateful enemy: I challenged death ten, hundred, thousand of times, always defeating the adversary. Plainly, the truth started appearing to me: the contours of my destiny assumed more and more its clean and precise outline. It appeared more and more evident the role that was reserved to me in the history of the world.”
....to be continued