I had a dream.

In it, vi a mass uniform of people in blue directing it a magical place. This multitude, for some reason, entoava incessantly cânticos of alento that so far does not leave me the head. A true ocean of voices, that was located around one ground green of the color of the hope. In my dream, vi on this ground men dressing the same colors of the multitude. They seemed men, but, 0ccasionally, they assumed forms on-human beings. Mitológicas. For more than a time, had left of being men to become immortal the eyes of that they folloied them. These immortal beings were in search of that them it seemed inalcançável. They tried to surpass a inexpugnável barrier. The incredulity and the hopelessness fought against. I attended that everything with admiration in common, moving me with the delivery of them for the objective. In the dream, some people without face said that this such objective one was impossible. That those of blue were all insane people. But they did not give the lesser ball. They believed, with blind faith. Of some form, of some place, they took off force, disposal and capacity to follow in front. In this dream, the multitude roared. That to its return made to tremble everything, pushing untiring the man-immortal ones for a glory that them seemed distant. They jumped, they cried out, they sang, in a inefável fury and a passion for three colors that were the proper one felt and secret of all the life. Vi the men, representatives of this horda of gotten passionate Barbarians, with the veins beating in the threshold of the skin and looks concentrated, dominated for a irrefreável spirit. Vi the sweat that drained and made marshy a tricolor mantle, exhaling the odor of the pride and the will. In the dream, vi an union sacramentada for deuses between the driven crazy multitude and these men. A imbatível union. Vi also one another group of men, dressing blue and yellow. I witnessed its confidence to go, to the few, diminishing, until if reducing the nothing. Vi these – that, more than what adversaries, seemed enemy – bashful, without knowing as to react to the powerful onslaughts of the blue ensandecidos ones. I had penalty of such defenseless ones. In this dream, the infuriated multitude blew up four times in deafening shouts that had almost made that place to ruir. Four explosions of relief and passion, that contained force and relief. They contained a power that seemed restrained per years of search. Vi still a man, solitary, that ran of black color in way to all. At certain moment, he raised its arm leading those of blue to a period of training of contagiante madness. While the multitude if made heard in all the cantos, the men in the ground green shot it the soil. Depleted and almost without force, but with smiles and tears in the face. Tears that, quickly, had been crystallized, asking for ticket to the housing of the eternity. In my dream, vi a city to dress three colors. The same multitude that before roared in those blessed rings now dominated streets, alleys and buildings of this city. A party never before seen. The city, solidary, answered hugging the heroes who had chosen it as its house. Perhaps it has not passed of a dream. That they say this. They say that the onírico devaneio of a Tricolor is everything only. But I woke up different. I woke up inflated with hope. With the chest taken for pride. With the heart dominated for the confidence. I woke up, above all, with the certainty of that it is from this dream that we will construct our reality.

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