The passing sound of the firefighters trucks woke up the writer. He was writing when he fell asleep on top of his table with the pen still in-between his fingers.
It was dark. His opened window showed a dark sky and just the bright light of the moon made the surrounding lessen the impact of the night.
He reached to turn on the lampshade near his table. To his surprise, it would not lit up.
"What happened?"
He asked himself alone. He went to his window and looked outside.
"Oh!, There's a general blackout."
He saw that nearby houses have candle lights inside their homes. The street lights were all out.
He shrugged his shoulders and went to his bed close to the window. He fell back to sleep easily. Then he started to dream.
The streets lights were all out. Only the moonlight made its way through the dark. There were people walking, though he found them strange.
He did not understand why he was in that place, in the first place.
From nowhere, he found himself walking alone among strangers. He kept on walking anyway, not knowing where to go nor where he came from. Thanks to the white shirt and pants that he wears. It helped him to differentiate himself from the others. The others were wearing grey or black clothes.
As he came closer to other people on the streets, they were not many, he realized they were all like zombies. They were like walking dead. They were looking past him as if he was not existing at all.
Then suddenly, they all fell down to the street floor. The sound of their fall had shocked him and made him put himself against a wall, which he did not even bother to look at and describe.
His heart was beating fast. He closed his eyes to shake out the fear that was starting to overcome him.
Then the scenario changed when he opened his eyes again!
In front of him were different groups of people. They were all wearing white clothes. They could not see him.
"Wake up! Wake up!"
They were trying their hardest to wake up those who had fallen on the streets.
"The Savior has come! The Savior has come!"
From nowhere, a loud sound was heard as if announcing the arrival of someone.
A woman fell on his knees crying so desperately.
"If you had only listened to me."
He could not help but raise a question.
"Why? What happened?"
The woman responded without looking at him. As if it was intended for her to continue talking to the young boy lying in front of her.
"You have not taken care of your body and your soul. I have taught you everything I could to lead you to a better life in Jesus. But you ignored me. You ignored me."
Another man close to her was crying too.
"I have told you, brother. Fight that addiction that has led you to dedicate your life to foolish games and crazy competitions. You have not listened to me. Look now, you can't even hear me. Your body is deadly tired. The safety of your soul you have abandoned. You were walking with me in the light, but you have not fought back the dark."
More people on other parts of the street were talking and crying.
He just could not understand what was happening.
A voice like thunder came from somewhere, from his back, that made him turn around.
There was no one. He was against a wall and had walked away from it. But when he looked up, he saw a shadow he could not describe while the voice was being heard everywhere like thunder.
"Let them have the rest they have chosen a long time ago. All were given enough time to be warned of this moment. Those who have denied to listen to me and all my repetitive calls, let them be on their chosen destinies. Now, it is I, who shall ignore them despite the love I had for them. They are not deserving of my Father's kingdom, who has sent me to be their Redeemer."
Everyone awake has recognized the voice and have kneel themselves before Him.
"I am The Good Shepherd. Those who know me, recognize my voice."
Another passing by of a firefighters truck woke up the writer again. This time his lampshade's light was already on. He realized the lights came back. There was electricity again.
He went to his kitchen and got something to eat and drink. Then finally back to his working table.
The story of his dream was already written. He went to look for his pen and he could not find it.
Since it was already midnight according to his clock below the lamp, he decided to go back to bed. There he saw his pen on top of his pillow. He asked himself a question.
"How come Pen? Did I take you with me or you came to my bed because of the story you have written?"
He smiled as he remembered he himself put the pen in his ear as a habit after using it.
When he lifted his bed sheet cover, there he found a paper he was trying to understand since it was written in a language he could not understand. The title says, La Llegada.
He wanted to show it anyway to his readers. Maybe them, they would understand.
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