At age three, he saw the man with the green face sitting under the stairs. No one else could.

Growing up in Miguel Alemán—a small Mexican border town staring across the Rio Grande at Texas—Saul lived a childhood defined by two realities. In one, there were church bells, family dinners at a ten-person table, and the heavy Tamaulipas sun. In the other, there was the entity: small, still, and watching from the dark mouth beneath the staircase. Always watching.

By five, a playground accident stole eight hours of his life and unlocked something irreversible. The levitations began—his body rising from the mattress into the humid dark, a cold invisible tether locked around his ankle, pulling him back every time he drifted too far. By eleven, crossing the bridge into Texas each morning for school, a force he couldn't explain rotated him out of the path of a speeding truck. Then came the visions: flashes of searing red that showed him the future seconds before it arrived.

He told no one. Not his best friend. Not his teachers. Not the parents who slept one floor below while he hovered above his own bed.

Only his grandmother understood. "Your grandfather called it The Weight," she told him. "Most people live like leaves on a river. But some souls are born as stones—they stay still and feel the water rushing past before it hits the leaves downstream."

VISIONS is a literary memoir that blends the warmth of a Mexican childhood with the unshakable reality of the unexplained. It is a story about growing up between two countries, two languages, and two planes of existence—and learning to anchor yourself when the world keeps trying to lift you off the ground.