I know it's quite difficult to understand, but lately, the butterflies fluttering in my stomach like a teenager in love barely let me eat or sleep. Concentrating is proving heroic to me and I am walking down the street with a strange smile that, I sense, must disturb those who cross my path.

But, although it may seem strange, I am by no means the only one who is very upset these days and not precisely because of this hellish spring that is scorching us with heat, but because of an event that many of us have been waiting for seven very long years: a live concert by Bruce Springsteen with his legendary E Street Band.

The mere fact of fantasizing about that magical moment when Bruce goes on stage at the Lluis Companys Olympic Stadium (Barcelona) makes my hair all over my body stand up because I know that, once again, I will feel that incomparable shot of adrenaline that I experienced that distant August 2, 1988 in which my heart almost came out of my chest when I heard him start with that very powerful 'Boom boom' his memorable concert at the Vicente Calderón (I still get goosebumps today).

They say that Springsteen fans are very heavy, that we venerate the Boss as a sacred totem, clinging to the belief that, like him, there has not been, nor is, nor will there be. Maybe so, that we are obsessive 'drills'. I myself hallucinate with what I have been able to do for him (and I am not one of the most recalcitrant): from waiting four days in line to see him in the front row and, thus, trying to get him to take me out to dance 'Dancing in the Dark' (dream that, I fear, I will never fulfill) to pilgrimage to his native Freehold to visit the house in which he lived as a child, his school and his favorite pizzeria, going through seeing him about a dozen times on the same tour (I know people who have come to make them complete).

But all that, as explained -some time ago in ZEN- my head psychologist and director of EnPositivoSí, Isabel Serrano-Rosa, has its explanation. "30 years ago, Gemma (who says Gemma, says Sami, Sonia, Mikel...) he met his Bruce from a distance, tuned into the character, empathized with the person; She felt it very close because the mirror neurons did their part and in that brain-to-brain connection, his successes, strength, vitality and sensuality became part of it."

When this happens, apparently, "the brain releases large doses of dopamine, the neurotransmitter responsible for the sensation of pleasure, so present when we fall in love. Oxytocin and adrenaline are produced that unblock brain brakes. This euphoric, uninhibited state is a potent natural antidepressant. And hook!"

They say that there is nothing worse than meeting an idol personally because, inevitably, it will never reach your expectations and will end up disappointing you. And Bruce, when it comes to expectations, has a very high bar. Seeing him on stage as an invincible 'ironman', leaving his skin in concerts of almost four hours in which, while we -the public- can hardly with our soul, he continues 'so pinchi' and with that inexhaustible 'good vibes' that he boasts in his live shows has a 'complicated translation' to real life. Therefore, although the times I have been able to 'coincide' with him (after long hours of waiting or strokes of fortune of fate) he has always been polite and polite (and look that I am heavy), I am very clear that, above all, I am left with the incontestable fact that Springsteen is an incomparable artist.

"Many years ago, Bruce Springsteen gave Gemma a dream: 'That one day he will take me by the hand and take me out dancing! Having a dream doesn't need treatment because there's nothing to cure, it's not having dreams that leads to the couch," Serrano-Rosa told me.

So I'll keep dreaming...


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