I woke up knowing that I was a cube. Yes, a cube, a die without numbers. Something like a box. That was me. A very small cube in a world of cubes. For there were other cubes around me and they moved silently.
I was the smallest of all the cubes and I looked at my companions with a mixture of envy and sadness toward myself.
Not everything was cubic in my world. Very high in the sky there was an immense white circle. We all wanted to reach that shining ball. But it was so far away that we would never arrive.
Feeling like the smallest of all, a large cube approached me and said:
You
are as big as us. It depends on how you see yourself.
Then I remembered my friend Mustafá, who told me that, for Muslims, when you die, you first have a small revelation, where you see all the good and the bad that you have done in your life. For since you are born, two angels, one on the right shoulder and another on the left, write down all the good and bad actions you have done.
After this counting, you are assigned a space. Some square meters or centimeters. And there you will be until the Day of Judgment, when Jesus Christ and the Mahdi fight against Gog and Magog.
And then I woke up, like a person, with a head, arms, and legs. No longer like a Cube. And I felt very happy to be alive and not be a geometric figure until the end of times.
