"Cold is the union of the firmament with the earth; they cannot be separated."
I was in an empty room, in broad daylight. In front of me was a table with a tightly closed, empty can of Coca-Cola.
From the beginning, I knew it was a dream. I looked at my hands; they were clearly visible, which indicated that the dream was meant to be logical, realistic.
The first thing I did was pass through the walls. One thing to consider when you dream is that you don't have a body; you are energy, you are a concept. What you see is a construct of your mind. Many claim to apply this concept to real life as well, to waking life, asserting that they can pass through walls and fly at will. I have my doubts about this, and I remain skeptical, but... who knows?
The point is that I was in that dream. Since I don't have a real body, your own will allows you to modify every aspect of that internal reality generated by your subconscious. I passed through the floor and began to descend. I let myself fall.
Everything was dark, very dark. My goal was to go to hell, and I did everything I could to get there. After a long time of going down and down, I started to feel like I was in a slingshot. Something was stretching more and more, putting pressure on me. Suddenly, at an immeasurable speed, I returned almost immediately to that room. A text message, in a dark, semi-transparent line, appeared before me, like some kind of error message on a computer interface. The message said, "Cold is the union of the firmament with the earth; they cannot be separated." After reading that, I tried something else: going to heaven. I started flying and flying, passing through the ceiling. It was a sunny, hot day, and I started to think... and it's logical... you'll never reach heaven by flying, objectively? Because the sky itself, as something above, is impossible. You can fly as much as you want; there is no up or down in the universe. You are up and down at the same time, you are right-side up and upside down.
So, seeing my limitations, I took the can from that room, named it "Rosalía," and the Coca-Cola can. When I touched it, a writhing rose appeared, like a worm, clumsy, but beautiful, and alive.
By giving names, you give life.