Today I dreamed that he entered the house. Everything was gray, walls, furniture and people. All had the face of death. All were deceased. But they were very encouraged to see me back. Many of the walls had fallen. And restructured the entire three-story building making.
But the treasure had been stolen.
me on the first floor located. He was a guest, more a returning son or nephew, at least. Simple accommodations. Unique environment. Should be up to the third floor. But it would be easy.
The second had a few workshops led by a foreman demanding despot. And just left over who would serve for a year and skillfully learn the craft of metal forging. How strange.
all on the third floor would be contemplation. Contemplation of the truths. There was, among a huge library volumes, the book I had who had robbed the treasury of the house.
The library said all he could know the human being. I just wanted to see the book, open their red caps and find the answer to the riddle that I stole all the years of my life.
I took in my hands. I felt his energy captured. And I wanted out of the room. A monk guarding the huge file, and though he seemed distracted, his eyes followed me.
I turn back to her questioning look relaxed. And hatched the perfect plan. On the first page, the old, empty yellow and white, I wrote my name, with an old date. So prove my ownership of it, if they asked me what she had in my hands.
then walked toward the exit. The monk just looked at me without asking anything. I knew everything. It was like the library itself.
provided I went down to my rooms. And look for the name of the author of that theft had left me the fortune I always wanted.
The blank book had my name only.
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