The last dream of the submarine

Stories and News No. 1053

Argentina has stopped the rescue operations for its submarine that disappeared 15 days after an explosion, apparently reported on the bottom of the Atlantic off the coast of Patagonia.
Still no news of the 44 crew members...


So, here we are.
It's time.
Ours.
In a story, too.
A farewell, maybe.
Of a dream, undoubtedly.
Of many, enclosed in one.
Come on, let's read them together and stay close to the missing ones to give each other a true goodnight, with hope, never certainty, to meet again the next morning.
Anyway, who can claim to really have it?
The first one is dancing in front of a mainland audience that can only admire those who do not fear the waves.
The second smiles, because he trusts the Principle of Archimedes applied to the imagination: a dream immersed in a liquid receives a push from the bottom upwards equal to the impossibility of realizing it.
The third is playing cards with the fourth and screams of joy, because he wins for the very first time since they are traveling.
The fourth simulates irritation, so he played losing, but that's okay. Because dreams do not need winners, just someone to share them with.
The fifth cooks for everyone, even if he’s not the real cook, because as a child he wanted to be anything but the captain.
The sixth is the cook, but he plays the guitar and it's a beautiful moment.

Really? The seventh says. That's why the meat was always bad… and he began to sing along.
The eighth is on the edge of the bed to shave off his beard, since he had promised his wife and doesn’t want to disappoint her.
If you love me, you’ll shave, she had written last time.
If I love you, look at me, the mirror in his hand replies for him.
After pallid maps and compasses, the ninth finally reads an adventure novel, the first since they set sail. It took a dream to devote time to others.
The tenth has eyes glued to the periscope and looks for mermaids, because if you don’t look for them in dreams, what are we talking about?
The eleventh is a mermaid, meaning he dressed like one. Tell me if there is a better time to reveal secrets.
The twelfth tells stories to everyone, even those who don’t want to hear them. He's never been good at, he's just remembering them all together.
The thirteenth doesn’t dream, but he sleeps and snores like a cold white shark.
Well, you stay ten hours to clean the engine room and then we'll talk.
The fourteenth makes a drawing in which he portrays the others who in turn dream, but he doesn’t want to color it, because he’s afraid of coming out of the margins and being scolded by the teacher (quoting his six-year-old son).
The fifteenth wash the dishes even if there is a dishwasher and continuously says: do it carefully without wasting water (quoting from his wife).
The sixteenth does gymnastics and sweats to death with as many as three suits, because he wants to lose weight. Do you know how many interviews we’ll do when they’ll save us? He manages to say despite his breath.
The seventeenth presses the uniform with careful hand for the same reason.
The eighteenth doesn’t find his own and he puts on the diving suit: who do you think will be the first to photograph when we’ll go out?
The nineteenth is obsessed with the calculator: then, he thinks, with the reward days that we’ll certainly get and the remaining holidays, I’ll cover Christmas, Epiphany and I’ll also have time from my sister's birthday.
The twentieth sews and mends one sock after another, because he has always done everything by himself and it will certainly not be a dream to soften it.
The twenty-first spreads his arms and hugs everyone he meets, because you’ll never forget the last friends you’ll have, according to a proverb of the sea.
The twenty-second kills himself of push-ups because the captain, before giving himself to the kitchen, always said that girls love the sculpted bibs.
He said the abdominals, according to the twenty-third who is training next to him.
The twenty-fourth writes a letter to himself, but he imagines being someone else who writes it to another, whose missive arrives by mistake to a third one who is then him, but don’t tell it around. Writing is like loving, he says, it's complicated but it fills your heart and life.
The twenty-fifth apologizes everybody of his stuttering. Oops, he's surprised a moment later, I don’t stammer anymore, what an idiot, it's a dream!
And from that moment, thanks to the well-known Theorem of the immediate removability of defects, demonstrable only in collective delusions and aesthetic or digital surgical, it is all removing and deleting.
The twenty-sixth throws the stick and, forgetting the prosthesis, he dances the limbo.
The twenty-seventh touches his nose and exclaims: Like Brad Pitt, I have it like Brad!
The twenty-eighth does the same and cries: Me too.
The twenty-ninth stops to be the saddest of the group and tells jokes without pause, while the thirtieth now shows a perfect dentition and can laugh without shame.
The thirty-first makes the juggler with the donuts and at the same time exclaims: who was the wimp?
The thirty-second is finally crying in front of everyone, period, because he once thought it was a flaw and only now has understood the error.
The thirty-third prepares the speech to read to the press.
The thirty-fourth too, in case the first one will be emotional.
The thirty-fifth asks only to stand in the front row at the exit, because his wife will give
soon birth to a child.
That is, she will always wait.
The thirty-sixth literarily flies between the bridge, the bow and return, and he doesn’t want to go down: boys, he explains, you should bet all on dreams, or it's better to stay on the ground.
You mean 'in the water', observes the thirty-seventh while taking a selfie with the thirty-eighth, the thirty-ninth and the fortieth.
You've moved, cried the latter, now we have to do it again.
Give me the camera, what if I did it for you? The forty-first is generous, since he has not yet understood what to do for himself, but in the meantime he want to be useful.
The forty second looks at everyone and tries to memorize everything with his mind, because he knows that something important is happening and a story or a picture will never be able to compete with the live eyes.
The forty-third is in the bathroom to pee, finally, he rejoices, finally free.
The forty-fourth, closing the circle, or almost, is already on the ladder, ready to emerge, without forgetting the future father.
Because in dreams being first doesn’t matter, just remember them.
Finally there's me.
Submarine, underwater, as you, up there, wish.
While here, I am and for eternity I’ll be the unfortunate whale of cold metal and human stories.
That one day someone will listen…


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