ma chambre brûle

I was searching through some old suitcases in my attic for photos of my parents. When I was a child and started to have questions about the past, my mom had already passed away and we didn’t talk about it much. I stumbled upon a metal suitcase one day. I discovered old pictures of my family. My mother and her girlfriends resemble the Motown record covers, as do my stepfather with his mustache and motorcycle in the James Dean style.

I came across pictures of my mother and my family in the Congo, including my brothers, cousins, and uncles. until I find a slightly burned picture.

I suddenly find myself in a room in Congo after entering a vortex. Even though I am in a baby’s body lying on the bed, I am still conscious. I look around the space and wonder why I’m there. I’m not sure if I’ve traveled through time or if it’s just a memory because I really feel as though I’m there. I am right now a toddler lying on a bed.

I briefly observe the agitation of everybody me before seeing a picture on the wall behind me. It is a picture of my mother that has been burned on one side as a result of the fire that has consumed the entire room and wall. Someone pulls me out of bed as I see flames coming toward me. I returned to this attic with the same force and motion, holding this identical photo of my mother in my hands.

I’m stunned for a short while. I don’t feel at all like it was just a memory; instead, I simply experienced an earlier event with all of my senses and my body. I was present. It was more than a memory.

Before seeing this picture, my brain was not aware of this event. A few days later, when I told my uncle about it and he was stunned and speechless. because he claimed to be the one who pulled me from the bed.

I’m not sure if time travel is possible, but I had a very unique experience. Although I was not aware of it, since it happened inside of me, it must have affected how I behaved, how I lived, and how I made decisions. I had a second chance to experience it firsthand, which may have given me the opportunity to comprehend why it occurred or at the very least, to comprehend myself and my emotions. This incident has the appearance of a warning.

It seems that I had to go through this experience three times before I truly understood it. Nearly over fifteen years later, I had a dream that my aunt had called and asked me to follow her inside an enormous house. While enjoying a peaceful moment in a lovely park, I asked her where we were going, but she refused to say. We finally come to a room that I recognize after passing through a number of gigantic empty rooms. It was the room that caught fire. The bed was completely burned out and the walls were completely black, i was able to recognize the scene. She requests that I examine this room in great detail. Okay, I say to her.

She replies, “No!” Observe more carefully. stare at this room! I said ok ok… and I stay looking at this room, for quite a long time, until I start to cry. I wake up suddenly and I continue to cry without being able to stop. Liters seem to escape from me. until I stopped crying and realized that I had to paint this moment. Without waiting I then took a paper, brushes and colors. and recreate this room, burned, and putting all the emotions that i had on the moment. Then I went back to bed. and I slept like a baby.

My mother died from cancer maybe a year or two before i found that old photo in the attic.

I don’t know what this dream means, but I really wonder if time exists and if the events that happen to us are symbols like in dreams? as if reality is also a dream, where time is relative, and where events mean something deeper in us, a mirror of our soul.

I thank my dreams for making me account for my emotions, and thank life for making me grow up, projecting maybe exactly what i am or need to be. i thank this first fire to appear, because the time travel and the dream will never exist without this special moment, my warning. this fire did prepare me somehow in a reality where time doesnt exist , to experiment emancipation, while i was maybe not ready, i gradually had to remember it, relive it, cry it out and paint it ou, to understand that my life is now my responsibility.

Story and picture by Eddy Vivier Murangwa