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Preface
A cross from Italy’s mainland sat the city of Messina like an indomitable fortress. Proud of its solid presence, Messina was the travelers’ first encoun- ter with the island of Sicily. The earthy colors of the buildings and landscape signaled to the visitor or returning Sicilian that Messina and its people belonged to the island, not to any outside political force or cultural tradition. The clang of the donkey-drawn carts and the voices calling out to customers to buy wares in the market added to the music of the city’s sounds. Visitors marveled out loud at the cathedrals and ancient art work throughout the city, but the locals walked and spoke softly, especially near the narrow slits between the buildings. Visitors delighted in the snake-like movement of the streets. The streets seemed to lead directly to a famous church or street market but then would slowly veer off in a different direction. They seemed to be designed to intentionally confuse. The city offered no help in arriving at a specific destination. Ancient buildings were so close together that air barely squeezed through. Residents believed that between the build- ings old mysteries sat, holding the true essence of Messina. Whenever one of the townspeople walked close to the openings, there seemed to be a whisper, not a sound you could hear with your physical ears, but heard in your mind. The whisper seemed to convey a yearning that had been imprisoned for hundreds of years. When this happened, people scurried past, heads down, attempting to get away from the whispers in their heads.
Messina was so congested with ancient energy it felt like the city could explode. Hopelessness was the disease that plagued the citizens of Messina during the early 20th century. Small eruptions did occur. Whenever some of the dark energy needed release, outbursts took place between the locals who were often surly with one another. Their interactions were always based on scarcity and not just in terms of money. If a resident didn’t show enough respect to a compatriot, there would be a confrontation. If someone had more stylish clothes than another, there would be jealousy for the lack of good-quality clothes. If a citizen had more leisure time than the next person, there would be gossip about how the person with more time for pleasure was lazy and didn’t deserve the extra time. Daydreaming was frowned upon. What was the point of daydreaming when it was just fantasy and would never come true. The city’s poor were especially vulnerable to the local mafia and thieves. Many of the men met an early death at the hands of murderers, accidents from factory jobs or shoveling coal, and disease. Women were left to raise children who would most likely not move above their childhood situation. The lack of light between the buildings prevented transcendence or change. This cycle had repeated itself for hundreds of years. The dark energy of Messina was relentless in its hunger for the human spirit. Feeding off people’s dreams, it left them with doubt, fear, and misery. This shadowy energy prided itself on soul theft. Once the soul was stolen, an over-whelming amount of energy was required to retrieve it. There were few people in Sicily who were familiar with the practice of soul retrieval. The neighborhoods were filled with children running, playing, singing, and giggling. Youth were not affected by the dark energy. They nourished each other with joy and playful- ness; qualities that the malevolent force could not penetrate.
The children breathed deeply and dreamed blissful scenarios for their future, but when they returned to their homes, a grim reality met their physical eyes: parents yelling, a blow or two to their mother's face or stomach from a drunken father. Imper- ceptibly, like a slow death from a chronic debilitating disease, the children played less and gave up their bliss and dreams to the heavy energy between the buildings. So the cycle of poverty and abuse branched out through time like a spider unconsciously spinning its web. No police force protected the women or the poor so the residents lived in fear of everything. Unconsciously, they feared the small spaces between the buildings. At times, a glimmer of light seeped into the locals’ fear. This usually took place in their conversation around sunset, when they would gather in the town piazza. There was talk of freedom and protection in America. The townspeople heard it was a country where anyone could become rich, but more than that, one could become happy. America equaled happiness. They didn’t know what happiness felt like since the dark energy took their joy, but they were sure they could find it again if only they could go to America. However, few had true hope of leaving Messina. The spark of light ignited by the conversation flickered and was extinguished at the last spoken word. It wasn’t that the townspeople couldn’t find a way to get to the New World; there just wasn’t enough determination or will. When the energy between the buildings took their will, the residents were left with despair. The Black Plague of the Middle Ages had been cured by an awareness of sanitation techniques. The town’s hopelessness could only be cured by cleansing Messina of the dark, heavy energy. This would require a belief that they could reclaim their stolen individual- ity, comprised of their dreams and hopes. In the end, it was easier to cure the Plague.
The shadowy energy became so thick at times that it took on form. It was a master shape-shifter that became stronger as it gathered human dreams. From the corners of their eyes, the residents would perceive a shape leaning against a building, but when they looked directly at the form, it would vanish. This energy frightened the residents into thinking that they had to stay in the city to remain safe. In September of 1908, the earth made a decision that would change the lives of Messina’s inhabitants forever. The amount of pressure caused by the malevolent energy between the city’s buildings seeped under the earth and into the surrounding area. It nestled itself under Mt. Etna, an active volcano. It was as if the earth released a scream that resounded through time, releasing a millennium of abuse and maltreat- ment. Human dreams and aspirations were sprinkled over the city as if baptized by an unseen hand. They landed at random, healing the gaping wounds in the city. Dreams were now for the taking. After Mt. Etna erupted, causing an earthquake, the city moaned. After that, screams from the undead buried under debris echoed off the skeletons of structural remains. Twenty-four hours passed and a primitive hush settled over the city. One could imagine it to be the silence before God said “Let there be light.” This pre-Creation silence was a relief to a few residents, who could finally begin again. Especially 13-year-old Angela Lanza. The dark energy never stole Angela’s dreams or her distinct presence. Her awareness had never allowed it to do so. Different from her contemporaries, as she entered adolescence, her ability to communicate with the unseen increased. She hadn’t been afraid of the lurking, mysterious force between the buildings, and had visions while she slept that instructed her how to oppose this force.
One night, during a dream, two beings appeared to her. Both had shoulder-length, wavy, light hair and faces glowing with a radiance that compelled her to look away at first. Angela realized she was dreaming and looked back at the faces of the beings. Her dream eyes could look into their faces and take in some of the light streaming toward her. These creatures explained that they were infusing her with light for protection against the dark power of the city. If she paid attention to their guidance, she would live to manifest her dreams and aspirations and use her will to do it. When she awoke, she felt special. Whenever she was sad, alone, or ridiculed, she would think of her two friends from her dream and know everything would be all right. Angela maintained the integrity of her internal space. She knew she could not be violated by the shadowy energy. Angela stayed away from certain buildings without really knowing why. At times, her body seemed to be guided by an unseen, gentle sensation or a distant voice inside her head. She also had the sense that her time in Messina would be short, that she wasn’t supposed to stay here. Angela no longer attended school, typical of girls of her age. The oldest of three children, it was her responsibility to help her mother. Angela returned home one day and learned that her father had left and would not return. A few weeks later, a man moved into their house. Her mother explained that he would help with the rent. After a few months, Angela noticed her mother’s belly protruding beneath her homemade, faded smock. Angela pretended she didn’t notice. She thought of her dream friends and felt less alone. When the earth exploded, Angela was walking on the edge of the city. She blacked out and started to drift. She floated above the earth, peering down into the city. She saw people running, buildings collapsing, and gaping holes in the earth. From that moment on, her experience of the earthquake always felt like a dream.
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