'We are going to flee from the so-called realities that are nothing but smoke, dust and ash, going to look for the dream wherever we can find it'.
[Mario Roso de Luna]

Dreamy, if brief, since we must never forget that happiness is ephemeral and dreams after all, dreams are, as our immortal Calderón de la Barca said, a visit to that magical, living architecture could be qualified and functional that defines the work and thought of one of the most brilliant and lucid minds in history: that of the brilliant Catalan architect, Don Antoni Gaudí i Cornet.

Possibly, both this and Mario Roso de Luna -evidently, each one in their respective sphere of influence- understood the dream -and for the moment, I will agree to leave aside Carlos Castaneda and his no less interesting teachings of Don Juan- like that beautiful chrysalis that remains hidden within its shell, completely alien to that other mirage -recurring to Buddhist philosophy- which, considered as reality, would not cease to be, after all, similar to the myth of Plato's cave: a mere manifestation of Maya or World of Illusion.

That is why, located in front of it, it is difficult not to be carried away by the accurate feeling, that Casa Batlló or Casa de los Huesos -as they called her, and not without reason, their contemporaries- is an example of that chrysalis the one that was referred to, and that in a similar way that the parables-which, after all, do not cease to be subliminal messages that underlie the innermost recesses of the unconscious-keep a formidable sleeping beauty.

A beauty that lies, dreams and perhaps even bears a certain resemblance to that weary melancholic with long taciturn hours - as Apollinaire defined the devil, as romantic writers also conceived - that languishes at the mercy of the 'Encantat Dragon' which, paradoxically, It may seem that significant Passeig de Gràcia where it is located. A dragon - understood from a rationally metaphorical point of view - whose imaginary scales are grainy names of abundance - Armani, Löewe, Louis Vouitton, Bulgari or Burberry - and later, at the height of the Plaza de Catalunya and its fearsome maw, the treasure: the 'Borsa' or Barcelona Stock Exchange.

Perhaps it is not coincidence, either, that the addition of his number -43- results in the magical digit par excellence: the 7. A number that has marked the destinies of man since he discovered the sacred liturgy of counting, making bowls on the walls of the caves, as you can see if one day you take a walk through the Sorian moorlands near Medinaceli and visit the Cave of the Holy Cross.

Organic and vital, as it has been said, the Casa Batlló is an artificial Golem that looks with nostalgia towards the Gothic Quarter and the Sagrada Familia, maybe wondering where is that Creator that endowed the mud with life, using materials such as the sandstone of Montjuic; the trencadís that he obtained from the waste of colored crystals from the Pelegrí window; glazed ceramics, made in the form of scales in the workshops Sebastia Ribó, which together in head, torso and extremities recalled the waves of the Mediterranean Sea or sinuous, unrivaled forms of the sacred mountain of Montserrat.

Observing, then, the Casa Batlló and by dint of repeating myself, I can not help remembering the French surrealist poet, Paul Eluard and echoing them, his enigmatic words: 'there are other worlds, but they are in this one'.

NOTICE: Originally published in my blog MEMORIES OF A PILGRIM, although this edition is revised, expanded and with unpublished photographs. The original entry, where you can check the authorship of juancar347, can be found at the following address: https://jc347.blogspot.com/2015/01/arte-y-misterio-de-barcelona-la-casa.html