I don't remember when I fell asleep. I only recall I was walking awake on that dusty road which was taking me to the
unknown. Then the silhouette of the white church showed up and then the hillock nesting it, while the village was
unfolding peacefully at its foot. And then I knew I was on my way. The sky was crystal clear, from the left the snow
capped Fagaras range was smiling at me.
Was I on a path in Heaven ? For I felt that everything, the mountains, the village, the hillock and the church were
melting with the sky into each other, as if someone was painting a fresco directly on the deep blue background.
Spellbound, I was heading towards the hillock and then I felt suddenly that the time reversed its passage and each
and every step pulled me back in time, until the key turned into the door and thus I found myself at once at the
beginning of the 13th century, inside the very heart of the church. The chaplain who opened the door said that
around the year 1200 the church was here. He heard that from his ancestors. Halmeag of then was mirrored by the blue sky
and projected here, on earth, unchanged, just like then.
Old Halmeag church
The character that holds the column
The church seen from the spire
The spire and the tree
I saw the white spotless walls, modeled in clay, I saw the wooden benches, still unaltered by time, I saw the
mysterious tunnel dug into the nave wall, about which the chaplain said it lead to some realms known only to the
knights of yore. I saw the unsettling figure of the man holding a column on his shoulders, his disproportioned hand
spread on the wall, with his eyes staring at the sky. I saw the spire separated from the church, where I climbed to
see all from above.
I was flying.
And then I woke up and saw everything just like in my dream, down to the last
detail. Face to face. My hectic century hasn't diminished the charm of the old Halmeag.