Once upon a time there was a child who lived in the forest in a small box with his mother and father. One day the boy, whose name was Alex, asked his parents if he could go outside to play. After some time Alex heard a noise behind the bushes, went to see what that noise was and saw a wolf cub playing with a piece of grass, Alex immediately fell in love with it. He took it and took it home. When the parents saw the wolf cub, they were frightened and said: "Alex, what is that?"
Alex replied: "It's a wolf pup I met in the forest."
The parents were surprised and asked: "My love, you can't keep a wolf in the house ..." Alex replied, "Why?"
"Because his mother will come looking for him and he won't be so happy that we took his son," replied his mother.
Alex said: "But, Mom, I've always wanted to have an animal to love ..."
The mother thought about it together with the father and together they said: "Okay, you can keep it, but only for a few days, until the cub is old enough to live alone". And the child cried out for joy.
After so many days the little wolf was starting to grow, the wolf was beginning to get attached to Alex and to protect him from dangers, but one day the parents said to their son: "Alex, you can't have the wolf in the house anymore".
Alex sadly said: "OK, but at least let me keep it just one more night ..."
The parents thought about it and said it was fine. Alex had packed a backpack and some food at night, and went off into the woods with the wolf.
The next morning the parents noticed that Alex had disappeared into the woods and immediately got dressed and started shouting: "ALEX, WHERE ARE YOU!"
But Alex was already too far away and couldn't hear his parents' screams until he saw a light in a cave; Alex went to see what that light was and saw a girl of about ten or eleven who was sick.
Alex asked her: “Who are you? Where are you from? What is your name?"
The little girl replied: "My name is Laura and I come from a very distant city".
Alex said, "How did you get here?"
Laura replied: "I was out for a walk and suddenly I saw that a bear was following me, so I started running and found myself here".
Suddenly Alex and Laura heard noises, they were scared, but it was only Alex's father and mother who were very scared, and asked: "Who are you?"
Alex replied, "She is a friend of mine who got trapped."
The sorry parents said: "Alex, if you want, you can keep your wolf." But at some point the wolf family came and they started cuddling each other.
Alex said, "Mom, I've made my decision: I want to leave my wolf with his family so they can live happily ever after." And then the wolf left with his family. The child returned home with his mother and father, Laura returned to her village and the wolf with his pack.
I was reminded of some flashes of the main dream of tonight: I lived in the mountains in a kind of community very close to nature that therefore built buildings in the trees and protected the animals. One day a strange thing happens: many electric pylons appear (many in the proper sense one attached to the other). Nobody immediately understands what I am but me and a friend of mine from the past (in the dream I knew the name but now I don't remember it), during our patrol out of the woods we hear the scream of a little girl. Arrived in the place of the scream we see this little girl who was trying to hide between two rocks from what it seemed .... A zombie. We run to save her and we manage to drive away the zombie with fire.
We take the little girl and go back to the village, while we return my friend is injured and I clearly remember her on the ground and I scream in despair: I understand that shortly thereafter the situation would degenerate and I start with the others to arrange buildings among the trees. use as shelters.
The dream ends after, with difficulty, I managed to climb into a shelter (with the child and my friend) via a very long vertical rope ladder and inside the shelter I find the little girl who has become a zombie. Am I that little girl?
Long before the white man arrived,
in a Cheyenne village lived a little girl whose
name was Nuvola Fresca.
One day the little girl said to her mother, Last Evening Sigh: "When night falls, a black bird often comes to feed, pecks at pieces of my body and eats me until you arrive, light as the wind and chase it away.
But I don't understand what all this is.
With great maternal love Last Sigh Of the evening reassured the little girl by saying: "the things you see at night are called dreams and the black bird that comes is only a shadow that comes to save you" Nuvola Fresca replied:
"But I am so afraid, I would like to see only the white shadows that are good".
Then the wise mother, she knew it would be cruel to close the door to the fear of her child, invented a round canvas with which to fish the dreams of the night, then gave the object a magical power: to recognize good dreams, that is, those useful for growth. spirituality of the little one, from the bad ones, that is, false and deceptive.
Last Sigh of the Evening built many dream catchers and hung them on the cradles of the children of the village.
As the children grew, they embellished theirs with expensive objects and gradually the magical power grew, grew, grew together with them ... Each Cheyenne keeps its own dream catcher for life, as a sacred object bearer of strength and wisdom.
Even today the Cheyenne Indians build a dream catcher every time a child is born in the village and place it on his cradle. With a special wood, very ductile, they shape a circle, which represents the universe and inside it a web similar to that of a spider. The cobweb will therefore be entrusted with the task of capturing dreams. If it is a question of positive dreams, the dream catcher will entrust them to the thread of the beads (forces of nature) and make them come true. If, on the other hand, he judges them negative, he will entrust them to the feathers of a bird and have them carried away far away, scattering them in the skies.
We can all think that poverty is a characteristic of certain undeveloped and economically behind countries. We can all imagine homeless people in bad places and bad weather. But instead thousands of poor people live in places where they should have assistance and help and instead have none. Why?
How do politicians eat their dinner and go to their children who live in a beautiful place if there are so many people out there without dinner? Isn't it absurd that politicians first of all think about spending money on guns instead of giving a home to all those people without a shelter?
What cities exist without these poor people who are ignored by everyone? I cry looking at these people because they seem not to exist for anyone and yet they are there and everyone can see them. Which cities are left without poverty? Is this the civilization we built? Is this progress? My grandparents are Italian and lived in a tiny village in Sicily. I have never seen anyone in that tiny village without a home. You ask me why? I don’t know but I can say that my grandparents used to say that after the war everyone tried to help each other. So is the civilization of aid over? The priests always gave food to those who didn’t have any, my grandparents told me this. Is religion over now then? What caused this inhuman humanity that helps no one? Politicians are all thieves and do not come to the government to help the people but only to demonstrate power and success. Why are we so bad? Why do we let this happen? I grew up with my generous and selfless grandparents but here where I live now there are a lot of selfish people with no love for others. What caused all this non-love for others?
Yet finding yourself like this is a moment, just being without a social network, losing your job, not being able to pay rent, not being able to find work, having had to deal with a separation, having a serious mental disorder, such as depression. People rarely become homeless by choice, at first they are thrown out, expelled from the system. Then a silent mutation takes place, we are transformed into invisible citizens, inhabitants of the interstices of the city, which becomes an improbable but only possible home. In the city, it is sometimes reduced to wandering in the throes of alcohol and hallucinations and then, exhausted, falling asleep at the mercy of the darkness of the night, of metropolitan life, of the street.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 