Amandita’s curse.
She said "ugh, we have to pass this room".
We entered a baroque theatre hall, at half lights, there was no stage, but the seats and the walls were a scenery itself, the patterns where made of shades continuously expanding and contracting, there were pale ceramic figures, they looked consumed and terrified, with black eyes and hollow mouths, if I tried to focus they distorted, as if their energy was drawn by a cursed force. There were paintings hanging on the wall.
She said "oh no, she's here".
I replied "who's here?".
She said "Amandita" while pointing to a big painting with a woman's face, with black eyes and a serious look. Amandita might've been a cursed spanish aristocrat.
As I looked I started levitating, feeling like everything was wrong in there, and felt the curse growing inside me. I felt lost and scared, I couldn't move up in the air. She kept going and disappeared through a door that erased as she passed by.
The face of Amandita kept staring while it shed some shade tears, as if the black oil painting was dripping and sliding forming shade stems.
I knew my mind couldn't have made this room, I felt doomed as a visitor in a serial nightmare curse, I had the feeling that I wasn't the only one that had been there, and maybe the past ones who came became one of those swollen ceramic figures sitting sterile in the red cloth seats.
I suddenly woke up and felt the same as in my nightmare, cursed and scared. I could still see the shade patterns and distorted images surrounding me, and was too scare to move. I just hold her tight and kissed the back of her head hoping I'll never be back in that room.