At my grandma’s house, the sockets were on fire. I try to extinguish the fire with a bottle of water.
I tell Nicla to call the firefighters, but nobody is listening so I call them. Someone answers my call and tells me the fire is not dangerous and I shouldn’t get worried. I scoff and ask their name. It’s my cousin Jacopo. I ask him if he realises how dangerous the situation is with two old ladies and they’d better hurry.
I tell Zia Sunta not to worry and I show her I am in charge of the situation, because I am extinguishing the fire with my bottle of water.
We are then at my parents house, in what used to be my childhood bedroom. My mom’s sisters help me move a small, white coffin from my bedroom. The handles are made of gold. It’s hard to manoeuvre and I am directing them. Both of them, one after the other, drop the handles. I tell them off and I grab all the handles myself. It’s surprisingly light.
I go back to my grandma’s home and I see a guy from my childhood years, building a burial niche for Zia Sunta. He is doing a messy job and I try to fix it. I ask Nicla if she had thought of covering the raw cement and bricks with some marble. She says now it’s time to fix the mess, then later we’ll think about aesthetics.