The Survivor of the Chapel of Senhor da Pedra
It's nine o'clock in the morning and the sky is tinged with unusual colors for this time of the day. The sea is extraordinarily calm, almost like a lake. Earlier, the earth convulsed in strong tremors, but here, in the seaside chapel where I live, almost nothing happened, just a few cracks in the stone walls and some candlesticks that fell off the altar. The chapel is sturdy, thank the Lord.
I heard that in Lisbon, after the earthquakes this morning, the fires of hell came to punish that land of sinners. The Lord's anger knows no bounds, it hits the poor and the rich alike! The inhabitants of Lisbon will have to pay with their lives for all the shamelessness of the court. As for us here in Porto, we are God-fearing and nothing serious will happen to us.
This morning I woke up to a crazy racket. The dogs were barking and yelping, trying to break free from their chains. The birds were shackled, flying in flocks in all directions. Thank the Lord that now, after the earthquake, everything is quiet, even too quiet. All this silence sends a shiver down my spine. But what is it now? What's wrong with this vicar's colt? When he starts prancing wildly on his hind legs like that, I'm the one who can't get close. Jesus Christ! He could take advantage of this dry tide to gallop across the sand if I had the courage to loosen his halter. But I don't have the courage. Oh, Lord, forgive me, but I don't have it. You were witness to that unwarranted kick in the thighs that nearly killed me when I was still a child.
What is this strange vibration in the air? That chill that invades me to the bone. That deep rumbling... is it another earthquake? Let me look outside. My God, my time has come! And I, here with my feet nailed to the ground, no longer have the energy to try and escape from this wall of green water that is advancing on me. Hold on with all your might, Maria da Luz!
I wake up like this, clinging tightly to the edge of the bed, while still feeling a whirlpool of water that shakes me from side to side, takes me to the bottom against the sand and makes me rise to the surface again, being hit all the time by floating pieces of wood, tiles and other debris torn from the chapel. The deafening roar of the water suddenly stops. It was the noise of the vacuum cleaner being used to clean the room next to mine. I open my eyes and here I am, safe and sound. And dry.
I eat breakfast with my traveling companions without saying a word. I try uselessly to get rid of the unpleasant sensation of drowning in a raging sea that the dream has left me. When my attention finally turns to Alda, sitting in front of me, I hear her commenting on today's program. We're going with our friend Marisa to visit Vila Nova de Gaia, on the outskirts of Porto.
Shortly after breakfast, Marisa picked us up from the hotel and we quickly arrived in the village, which is very pretty. It must be nice to live here, away from the hustle and bustle and the tourist invasion that punishes Porto all year round. Strange, I feel at home. I could swear there's a church over there," I say to myself, laughing with my eyes closed as I spin on my feet. When I finally stop and open my eyes, I see in front of me a hexagonal chapel resting recklessly on a low rock by the sea, the Capela do Senhor da Pedra. An uneasiness overwhelms me and takes me off balance, causing me to cling to the arm of my friend Alda, who looks at me suspiciously. "How beautiful!" I say to her, trying to disguise the whirlpool that has been following me since my dreams. "Shall we visit the chapel?".
The chapel in front of me, I discover in a tourist brochure I carry with me, was built a few years after the Lisbon earthquake of 1755, when the whole region was invaded by a tsunami. That rock has always been a sacred place, and the pagan temple that stood there was eventually replaced by the current Catholic church. We enter the chapel and are all attracted by the beauty of the baroque altar, all covered in gold. With my smartphone in hand, I try to photograph the altar and the altarpieces, but a flickering green light appears on the screen. I can't take a picture. I look in vain for the fluorescent lamp installed on the altar that could be causing this phenomenon. I don't see anything. My friends take several photos of the inside of the church, without realizing what's happening to me. I then decide to photograph the outside and realize that my camera works normally outside. Stubbornly, I try again to photograph the altar. Nothing. I finally give up. Later I'll copy the photos of one of my friends...
With my arms resting on the railing that surrounds the chapel, I admire the sea with its very green and transparent waves, which is lapping peacefully on this sunny afternoon. A feeling of peace invades me and expels the last swirls of seawater that remain from my dreams. What a strange thing this universe is, full of mysteries. Will we ever be able to unravel it?
Voltar