Confession of a Ghost. F.M. Dostoevsky award. Playing Another Reality. Alexandra Kryuchkova

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Confession of a Ghost. F.M. Dostoevsky award. Playing Another Reality - Alexandra Kryuchkova

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style="font-size:15px;">      “You didn’t believe in them, and anyway you have seen them!” I didn’t let up.

      “Are you hungry?” Ray asked, clearly not eager to tell me about the devils.

      “No, and you? Do they eat anything there?”

      “Sinners are fried in pans and then eaten!”

      “However, you haven’t been fried yet!”

      “It’s not evening yet. Have you noticed anything strange? What seems to be wrong? And what kind of dreams do you have?”

      “I see a monk,” I admitted, “today at Spyridon’s temple, and before that on Athos. I rarely dream about something or don’t remember my dreams.”

      “What am I to do with you?” Ray said thoughtfully. “Tell me where are you now?”

      Suddenly, something made me shift my gaze from Ray to the crowd of passers-by, and I saw … myself, sitting down at the next table! Ray glanced at my copy and then at me.

      “Ray,” I said in horror, “are you conjuring me?!”

      “You’ve guessed it wrong. I really don’t know what to do with you. You don’t remember anything, or rather, you remember selectively and you are not aware of reality, therefore you see neither devils nor angels. You are tightly stuck in your Past, wandering through the labyrinth of memory.”

      I got up, walked over to myself at the next table, called out – in vain, and returned to Ray.

      “Let’s suppose I’m stuck in the Past, but where is my Present?”

      “It’s no longer on Earth, Alice. You are dead.”

      I screamed in horror at such a sudden thought and… woke up…

      It was deep night on Athos.

      34 Before/7 After. House No. 3

      Winged Lion

      Somewhere in the Universe

      “You won’t believe, it’s sunny there!” the Guardian smiled at the door to House No. 3.

      I squeezed my eyes shut and stepped inside. When I opened my eyes, right in front of me, I found a wide-open, rocky-toothed mouth!

      “No!” I yelled, clinging to the Guardian, and the mouth immediately shut.

      “Well, I’m sorry, I’ve just yawned,” the Lion said calmly. “I’ve been looking forward to see you, and the Sun is baking in full!”

      The Lion, not at all aggressive, turned out to be very amiable. He stroked me with the brush of his tail to make me calm down, stretched out his paw and said in a deep voice,

      “Actually, I’m a kitten, a big one. Just don’t tell anyone or they’ll stop taking me seriously! House No. 3 is the Sphere of Close Contacts, brothers and sisters, short-term local trips; commerce and business; elementary education and the Word, oratory and literature in terms of writing, not publishing, since publishing is handled in House No. 9. You can pet me, I don’t bite.”

      “Where are we?” I asked the Lion, shaking his paw and scratching him behind the ear. “There’s nothing around here, except the Sun baking.”

      “That’s right, we are in the desert.”

      “Desert? Is it the Sphere of my Close Contacts?”

      “For a lonely soul, even any crowd is a desert,” murmured the Lion. “This phrase was read in Heaven and voiced on Earth by Chekhov, the writer.”

      “Nice to meet you, Rukh!” flashing a sunny smile, the suddenly manifested Star said. “I am Acubens, or Sertan, according to the astronomer Bayer’s classification of 1603, Alpha Cancri, I correspond to the elements of Fire. I’m a patroness, guiding strange and lonely people, including holy fools, prophets, astrologers and writers. I give the opportunity to penetrate into the World, where the Past and the Future coexist, and to learn something to transfer into reality.”

      “Sertan is a magician, a star of revelations and prophecies. She brings surprise gifts in the Sphere of her location!” added the Lion and spread his wings.

      “Wow, you are winged!” I exclaimed, and the Lion purred contentedly. “We are in the desert! What kind of gifts are we talking about?”

      “In deserts, magical mirages live and revelations are heard. The hermits retreat here to get closer to Heaven,” the Guardian encouraged me. “Sertan has the features of Saturn and Mercury, which is good, because she is in the Sphere of Mercury, the Word. Your words will be a life-giving source.”

      “Sertan gives strength to survive in harsh conditions,” said the Lion. “She is also a symbol of the Egyptian scarab beetle, the resurrection of the soul, the source of Eternal Life, which logically complements the Sun, the Higher Self, your life-giver.”

      “Wherever I look, there’s the seal of Saturn,” I sighed.

      “They call me refuge and hidden place,” Sertan continued. “Experiencing pain, you’ll retreat here and create something spiritual as required by the energy of Saturn.”

      “Sertan is clearly expressed in Pope John Paul II and in Michelangelo, who painted the Last Judgment,” the Guardian added. “More often the star promotes people in the field of literature, in the study of stars and in public affairs.”

      “Now I’ll tell you about myself,” the Lion purred. “Let’s fly over the desert! Get on my back and hold on tight.”

      I grabbed the Lion’s lush mane, the Guardian waved his wing at us, and we took off.

      “Do you know why I am winged? I love catchy words. They fly in the air, I hunt and catch them, and then play with them,” said the Lion with a smile. “People with the Lion Zodiacal Sign in House No. 3 are famous for their strength in creative thinking. A wide flight of thought plus imagination and ingenuity is the key to success and self-realization in the field of art. Sphere No. 3, associated with the Word and the ability to express thoughts, is often flooded with light at birth of writers. Lion is a temperamental creature, he leads the masses, has the flame of the Eternal Fire burning, that can ignite others. Knowledge of foreign languages is a plus. A good position for theater and film actors, I have pronounced stage drama skills. Lion needs listeners for self-realization.”

      “Are there many listeners in the desert?!”

      “The smallest gold coin is the most expensive, although you are interested in the global, since Lion is the king of beasts, and kings don’t think small things. The king generously takes his subjects under his guardianship, so you tend to patronize and help others. Drive away from yourself those who are cunning, running and dodging in every possible way. What do you see there, in the oasis?”

      “The Lion King?” I supposed, noticing a strange man in a crown, with a book and a pen in his hands.

      “King

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