{"id":235662,"date":"2025-07-20T09:46:47","date_gmt":"2025-07-20T09:46:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/swissfederalism.ch\/casa-sogni-o-incubi\/"},"modified":"2025-07-21T07:38:10","modified_gmt":"2025-07-21T07:38:10","slug":"house-dreams-nightmares","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/swissfederalism.ch\/en\/house-dreams-nightmares\/","title":{"rendered":"La casa dei sogni (o degli incubi) – The house of dreams (or nightmares)"},"content":{"rendered":"

La casa dei sogni (o degli incubi) – The house of dreams (or nightmares)<\/span><\/h1>\n
\"Tree
Tree on the beach Image by Pam Patterson from Pixabay<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Il Signor Bianchi era un contabile in pensione, noto per la sua parsimonia e per la sua capacit\u00e0 di trovare modi creativi per risparmiare denaro. Era ossessionato dai suoi risparmi, che guardava ogni giorno allo specchio, ammirando la loro crescita. Determinato a raggiungere questo obiettivo, non si sarebbe lasciato fermare da nulla.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ogni volta che andava al bar, il Signor Bianchi arrivava con il portamonete vuoto o gli mancava sempre qualcosa. I baristi lo conoscevano bene e sapevano che era meglio non aspettarsi una mancia da lui. Ma nonostante la sua fama di avaro, il Signor Bianchi era un uomo tranquillo e rispettoso.<\/span><\/p>\n

Un giorno, il Signor Bianchi decise di costruire la casa dei suoi sogni, ma senza intaccare i suoi preziosi risparmi. Con la sua tipica inventiva, scelse di utilizzare polistirolo di scarto, economico e leggero. In poche ore, eresse una dimora fragile ma, ai suoi occhi, geniale. Quella notte, per\u00f2, un vento impetuoso si lev\u00f2, scuotendo le pareti con violenza. La casa, incapace di resistere, si disintegr\u00f2 sotto le raffiche, volando via in mille pezzi come un castello di carte.<\/span><\/p>\n

Il Signor Bianchi dormiva profondamente, ignaro del disastro. A ogni folata di vento, un brivido lo attraversava, e lui, mezzo addormentato, si stringeva nella coperta. All\u2019alba, si alz\u00f2 dal letto, ma ci\u00f2 che vide lo lasci\u00f2 senza fiato: la sua casa non c\u2019era pi\u00f9! Al suo posto, solo un mucchio di detriti e frammenti di polistirolo sparpagliati ovunque.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mentre la pioggia cadeva leggera, il vicino pass\u00f2 di l\u00ec, riparandosi con un ombrello e ridendo di gusto. Si avvicin\u00f2 al Signor Bianchi, che fissava attonito i resti della sua casa, e con un sorriso ironico esclam\u00f2: \u201cBuongiorno, Signor Bianchi! Che splendida giornata, vero?<\/em>\u201d Il Signor Bianchi, sbalordito e senza parole, lo guard\u00f2 con occhi spalancati, incapace di rispondere.<\/span><\/p>\n

Non scoraggiato, il Signor Bianchi decise di ricostruire la casa, questa volta usando cartone e aggiungendo pietre sul tetto per maggiore stabilit\u00e0. Ma quella notte, una pioggia incessante cadde con forza. Il tetto di cartone si buc\u00f2 in pi\u00f9 punti, lasciando entrare l\u2019acqua che trasform\u00f2 il pavimento in un mare di fango. Il Signor Bianchi si ritrov\u00f2 immerso nel disastro, bagnato e infreddolito. Il vicino di sempre, affacciandosi alla finestra con un sorriso, lo salut\u00f2: \u201cBuongiorno, Signor Bianchi! Bella giornata oggi, no?<\/em>\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Infastidito ma ostinato, il Signor Bianchi decise di riprovare, costruendo una nuova casa con sacchetti di plastica, convinto che avrebbero tenuto lontana la pioggia. Una sera, mentre sistemava i sacchetti, accese il camino per scaldarsi. In un istante, una scintilla trasform\u00f2 la casa in una torcia ardente. Il vicino accorse, aiutandolo a domare le fiamme con secchi d\u2019acqua, e con un sorrisetto disse: \u201cSignor Bianchi, mi raccomando, trovi un\u2019altra soluzione!<\/em>\u201d Poi, ridacchiando, si allontan\u00f2 sotto la pioggia.<\/span><\/p>\n

Il Signor Bianchi era ormai lo zimbello del paese. Al bar, tra un caff\u00e8 e l\u2019altro, i compaesani non parlavano d\u2019altro: le sue disavventure erano diventate il passatempo preferito. Ridevano e scommettevano, chiedendosi quale strampalata idea avrebbe tirato fuori questa volta.<\/span><\/p>\n

Il Signor Bianchi, testardo e indifferente alle risate del paese, non si diede per vinto. Con rinnovata determinazione, costru\u00ec una nuova casa, questa volta in legno, sicuro che avrebbe resistito a tutto. Ma quella notte, un\u2019alluvione improvvisa devast\u00f2 la zona. Il fiume, gonfio e furioso, travolse la casa, trascinandola via come un fuscello. Il Signor Bianchi, colto di sorpresa, si ritrov\u00f2 a combattere contro la corrente impetuosa, aggrappandosi disperatamente a un ramo per salvarsi.<\/span><\/p>\n

La mattina seguente, il Signor Bianchi si risvegli\u00f2 in un luogo sconosciuto, circondato dal fragore delle onde e dai versi striduli dei gabbiani. Si guard\u00f2 intorno, confuso: si trovava su una spiaggia battuta dal mare, ma non riconosceva nulla di quel posto. I suoi risparmi, tanto gelosamente custoditi, non avevano alcun valore in quella terra straniera, e un senso di solitudine e disperazione lo travolse.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPerch\u00e9 sono stato cos\u00ec sciocco?\u201d<\/em> si rimprover\u00f2. \u201cPerch\u00e9 ho rifiutato di pagare un affitto? Se solo l\u2019avessi fatto, ora sarei al caldo e al sicuro, invece di essere qui, solo e disperato.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

I vicini, preoccupati per la sua sorte, pubblicarono un annuncio sul giornale, raccontando la vicenda del Signor Bianchi. La notizia si diffuse in tutto il mondo, e presto lui fu ritrovato e riportato al suo paese. Colmo di gratitudine, ringrazi\u00f2 di cuore i compaesani e promise di cambiare. Visse i suoi ultimi anni avvolto dall\u2019affetto dei vicini, imparando una lezione preziosa. La sua storia insegn\u00f2 a tutti che chi troppo vuole nulla stringe, e che l\u2019amicizia \u00e8 un tesoro inestimabile.<\/span><\/p>\n

Zaira Sellerio<\/p>\n

The house of dreams (or nightmares)<\/span><\/h1>\n

Mr Bianchi was a retired accountant, known for his thriftiness and ability to find creative ways to save money. He was obsessed with his savings, which he looked at in the mirror every day, admiring their growth. Determined to achieve this goal, he would not let anything stop him.<\/span><\/p>\n

Every time he went to the bar, Mr Bianchi would arrive with an empty purse or he would always be missing something. The bartenders knew him well and knew better than to expect a tip from him. But despite his reputation as a miser, Mr Bianchi was a quiet and respectful man.<\/span><\/p>\n

One day, Mr Bianchi decided to build his dream house, but without eating into his precious savings. With his typical inventiveness, he chose to use waste polystyrene, which was cheap and light. In just a few hours, he erected a fragile but, in his eyes, ingenious dwelling. That night, however, a raging wind arose, shaking the walls violently. The house, unable to resist, disintegrated under the gusts, flying away in a thousand pieces like a house of cards.<\/span><\/p>\n

Signor Bianchi slept soundly, unaware of the disaster. With every gust of wind, a shiver ran through him, and he, half-asleep, clutched his blanket. At dawn, he got out of bed, but what he saw left him breathless: his home was gone! In its place, only a pile of debris and fragments of polystyrene scattered everywhere.<\/span><\/p>\n

As the rain fell lightly, the neighbour passed by, sheltering himself with an umbrella and laughing heartily. He approached Mr Bianchi, who stared in astonishment at the remains of his house, and with a wry smile exclaimed: “Good morning, Mr Bianchi! What a beautiful day, isn’t it?<\/em>” Mr Bianchi, stunned and speechless, looked at him with wide eyes, unable to answer.<\/span><\/p>\n

Undeterred, Mr. Bianchi decided to rebuild the house, this time using cardboard and adding stones on the roof for more stability. But that night, incessant rain fell hard. The cardboard roof was punctured in several places, letting in water that turned the floor into a sea of mud. Mr Bianchi found himself immersed in the disaster, wet and cold. His neighbour, looking out of the window with a smile, greeted him: “Good morning, Mr Bianchi! Beautiful day today, isn’t it?”<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Annoyed but stubborn, Mr Bianchi decided to try again, building a new house out of plastic bags, convinced that they would keep the rain away. One evening, while arranging the bags, he lit the fireplace to warm himself. In an instant, a spark turned the house into a blazing torch. The neighbour rushed over, helping him tame the flames with buckets of water, and with a smirk said: \u2018Mr Bianchi, please find another solution!\u2019 Then, chuckling, he walked off into the rain.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mr Bianchi was now the laughing stock of the village. At the bar, between one coffee and another, the villagers talked of nothing else: his misadventures had become a favourite pastime. They laughed and bet, wondering what wacky idea he would come up with this time.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mr Bianchi, stubborn and indifferent to the village’s laughter, did not give up. With renewed determination, he built a new house, this time of wood, confident that it would withstand anything. But that night, a flash flood devastated the area. The river, swollen and furious, swept over the house, dragging it away like a twig. Mr Bianchi, taken by surprise, found himself fighting against the raging current, desperately clinging to a branch to save himself.<\/span><\/p>\n

The next morning, Mr. Bianchi woke up in an unknown place, surrounded by the roar of the waves and the shrill cries of seagulls. He looked around, confused: he was standing on a sea-swept beach, but recognised nothing of the place. His savings, so jealously guarded, were worthless in that foreign land, and a sense of loneliness and despair overwhelmed him.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Why was I so foolish?”<\/em> he reproached himself. “Why did I refuse to pay a rent? If only I had done so, I would be warm and safe now, instead of being here, alone and desperate.<\/em>“<\/span><\/p>\n

Neighbours, worried about his fate, published an ad in the newspaper, telling the story of Mr Bianchi. The news spread around the world, and soon he was found and brought back to his village. Filled with gratitude, he heartily thanked his fellow villagers and promised to change. He lived his last years surrounded by the affection of his neighbours, learning a valuable lesson. His story taught everyone that he who wants too much, wants nothing, and that friendship is a priceless treasure.<\/span><\/p>\n

Zaira Sellerio<\/span><\/p>\n

Review<\/span><\/h2>\n

\u2018The House of Dreams (or Nightmares)\u2019 is a witty and original narrative that follows the unfortunate exploits of Mr Bianchi, a retired ex-accountant who is obsessed with economics. His mania for saving pushes him to build houses with unlikely materials – such as polystyrene, cardboard, plastic bags and wood – which are punctually destroyed by natural events. These episodes give rise to paradoxical and hilarious situations, which make the story lively and engaging.<\/span><\/p>\n

Strong points<\/span><\/h3>\n