All my life, I have believed that we are more than flesh and bone; I have always thought that the meaning of life goes beyond working, eating and sleeping, so when I read about the "Supernatural writing contest", I thought it would be a great opportunity to share it with all of you because we are soul and we are energy: and we have all walked this world more times than we remember.

For some strange reason, I've always felt an extraordinary fascination for the past. I don’t lie when I say that I can spend hours of my time reading and investigating curiosities about past times. I also love with madness the 60s and 70s, they are my adoration and I curse every day of my life not being able to live those decades of such fabulous music. Or maybe I did live it and I can’t remember ... 

This obsession with the past has also led me to feel a great curiosity about my ancestors: Where does my last name come from? What did they do? Where was my family 200 years ago? I have little information about it. I was born in Caracas - Venezuela in 1997. My grandparents on my dad's side are Spanish immigrants who came to this country fleeing from the terrible postwar period. My grandfather, José Bao, comes from a Spanish town called 'Fisteus'; nowadays the town is practically abandoned: there are about 8 people (all old people) among whom is the older sister of my grandfather, my aunt Maruja. She refused to leave her home and her family (who are buried in the cemetery of Fisteus)

I can’t tell you why, but I feel an extraordinary connection with that town; I feel that Fisteus is calling me to visit it. It's very strange.

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The first time I dreamed with my grandfather's village, I was six years old: The strange thing about this dream is that I was someone else: I was an adult woman with a long and ancient dress, something similar to the Amish dress. I remember seeing my reflection in the village fountain. In addition to this dream, there were many others in which I visited Fisteus, I walked through its dirt streets, walked among the village houses and spoke with people from the village, who had very old and somewhat peasant clothes. I remember seeing cows, carts and many chickens. Something that each and every one of these dreams had in common is the familiarity I felt when passing through this town, as if I was really living it.

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Growing up, the frequency with which I dreamed of Fisteus and its people, fell to such an extent that I never dreamed of itagain, until in November of last year something inexplicable happened...

Never forget your roots... 

I was sleeping in my room when I suddenly woke up in a completely different place to my house: it looked like a cabin made of wood and stone. I remember that there was a fireplace lit. I started looking around and this whole place seemed strangely familiar, but I knew I’d never been there. Suddenly, I realized that I was not alone: there were several people around me. "I am your Aunt Ubaldina," an older woman tells me, she was accompanied by two elders who announced themselves as my great-grandparents and an old lady with the air of being my great-great-grandmother. 

I kept watching them for a few seconds and (as if I had known them all my life) I ran up to them and I hugged them strong. I felt the hug so warm and familiar that I just couldn’t stop crying. My great-grandmother took my hand very gently, she said she wanted to show me something: We left the small village house and began to walk through those dirt roads that had already walked in dreams many times. But this time it felt more real than ever: I could feel the cold on my skin, I could hear the singing of the birds, I could recognize every color and every little detail. It was as if I really was walking around Fisteus.

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I kept watching them for a few seconds and (as if I had known them all my life) I ran up to them and I hugged them strong. I felt the hug so warm and familiar that I just couldn’t stop crying. My great-grandmother took my hand very gently, she said she wanted to show me something: We left the small village house and began to walk through those dirt roads that had already walked in dreams many times. But this time it felt more real than ever: I could feel the cold on my skin, I could hear the singing of the birds, I could recognize every color and every little detail. It was as if I really was walking around Fisteus.

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My great-grandmother took me to the village cemetery: she began to point out several tombs while telling me who was buried in each one of them (they were all Bao). I remember he told me "Never forget your roots" and then ... I really woke up.

I can swear that it has been one of the most real and fascial dreams I have ever had in my life: I even woke up with dry tears in my eyes. I felt that my family had really visited me. I know that theit energy and their soul were with me that night. As soon as I woke up, I took my cell phone and I did something that I’d never occurred to me: I typed Fisteus on google. I know, I know... why I didn't think about it before!? The truth is I don’t know! 

I thought that being a town practically erased from the map, I wouldn’t get much information about it but I was completely wrong. I found a blog managed by the daughter of a photographer named Carlos, who visited Fisteus approximately in 1958 and dedicated himself to photographing the daily life of that little town. I was fascinated to see each photograph, for some reason everything became very familiar to me until my eyes rested on a specific photograph: the photograph was titled "family".

I couldn't believe the similarity that existed between one of the people in the picture with my father "this must be my great grandfather" I thought immediately. I ran to where my father was and I showed him the photograph: when he realized who they were, he started crying. Indeed, the man in the photo was my great-grandfather! And not only him: there were also my aunt Ubaldina and my grandfather's godfather, German.

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Who has the red circle is my great-grandfather, father of my grandfather and grandfather of my father.

This is my father: 

My father and his grandfather are very similar, or not?

If you want to visit this blog, enter here.

When my father confirmed that indeed that man was his grandfather, I also started crying: all my life I had felt a very great connection with my great-grandfather Miguel, a regret of not having the pleasure of knowing him.

I saved all the photos of the blog and showed them to my grandfather one by one, to see if he was able to recognize more people and that's how it was: in most of the photographs he met old friends and people from the town, he also found one of his uncles and his grandmother. You have no idea what emotion I felt!

I'm sure that night, my ancestors visited my dreams and in one way or another managed to make me find all these photographs. Remember what my great grandmother told me "don’t forget your roots" and find that photograph titled "Family", it seems to me that it was not a coincidence. I’m completely sure that it was a message from my family, so that I would always remember where I came from and, in some way, to know where I am going.

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