Guardian Angel. 2. 7. The 15th major arcana

"A GUARDIAN ANGEL"
a mistical novel
by Alexandra Kryuchkova

PART II. A DREAMS TRAP

2.7. The 15th MAJOR ARCANA

December 1988, Moscow

December. The snow was falling. Suddenly, there was lightning in the sky, and thunder rumbled. I realized what that meant. I started weeping, and they were looking at me understanding nothing. I was twelve. We’d just started our first lesson. The math teacher looked at me sternly over her glasses.

«My mother has just died,» I said softly, and the teacher thought I lost my mind.

We had no second lesson that day. I could go home, but I was scared. The panic fear of the inevitable what was about to happen. Or had it already happened? My friend and I went to the subway, walking until the third lesson. My mother’s sister appeared walking towards us. I knew she was supposed to be at work, but… We stopped and looked at each other. Silently. She didn’t say anything, but I understood.

After school I went home, came up to the entrance of the house. The neighbors, standing at the bench, stopped talking at the sight of me. I didn’t stop and silently entered the house. I pressed the elevator button and entered it. The elevator went up to the sixth floor. I was afraid to go out, since I thought that the coffin lid would already be there. I forced myself to take a step from the elevator into the stairwell. I turned right towards our flat with my eyes closed. I forced myself to overcome my fear and opened my eyes. There was no lid there. I sighed with the hope that it only had seemed to me. I rang the doorbell.

My grandma opened the door, dressed in black. There were a lot of strangers inside. They were saying something. Someone pronounced, «The girl has come». I kept silent. They were looking at me in silence. I wanted to enter the room where my mother was, but my grandma, standing right in front of the door, kept it closed and said, «Wash your hands.»

I still refused to believe that… I opened the door to the bathroom and saw the mirror covered with a towel… I immediately stepped back out. They were looking at me. I was slowly sliding down the wall, «MA-MAAAAAAA!!!»

And… I woke up! From my own scream. I sighed in relief, silently weeping with happiness and said mentally, «Mom, I’m sorry! How could I believe that it was all for real? I just had a nightmare! A long, long dream about you leaving me. If you want, I’ll tell it to you today.»

My eyes were getting used to the darkness. I began to distinguish the outlines of the space around me and couldn’t understand anything. That room was not mine, not mine and not mother’s. I sat up in bed and tried to see things better. To the left, there was a table between two doors to other rooms. To the right, there was a wall and another door. Where I was? What was I doing there? How did I get there? Suddenly, an alarm clock rang in the next room. The door opened. Someone turned on the table lamp and walked towards me. I saw my aunt, my mother’s sister… My eyes filled with horror from the realization that my dream was the reality. I had just dreamed what had already happened the day before! My aunt had taken me to her flat to spend the night so that I wouldn’t have to stay at home, where my mother would be for two more days.


***
September 2011, Budapest — Moscow


They called me from the Union of Writers and said I would represent Russia at the III International Festival in Hungary in September. The trip was free for me. The flight was in two weeks. At my new job, they let me go, and I urgently had to arrange all documents to apply for a visa.

Hungary welcomed us very warmly. It was surprisingly hot in Budapest. We performed in three cities, got acquainted with deputies in the Parliament. Our poems were hung next to the works of world classics on a wall of a house in the center of Budapest. On the Avenue of Stars near the city of St. Andrey, a stone with pre-engraved names and countries we represented was laid. In Ishaseg, we were awarded diplomas and the film about the festival. According to the voting of three cities, I would be the best, and in October, Hungary would nominate me for the international competition «New Pleiades» 2012 in the field of literature, their little Nobel, in which 100 literary figures from all over the world would participate, and quite unexpectedly, I would win it and get a statuette with my name plated on it and a diploma. I would know about that later, on Catholic Christmas.

We were heading to the last performing of the festival. I was in the car with a Swiss poet who, like me, spoke perfect Italian. We told each other mystical stories from life. I remembered the dream about my funeral in Venice and retold it to him.

«Do you know that Man in Black?»

«No, moreover, I didn’t see his face in my dream,» I answered, but the Man in White instantly appeared on my internal screen. «Although, there is a man who looks like him. We met six months after the dream, but he was in White.»

«Who is he?»

«I don’t know.»

«Didn’t you get acquainted with him?»

«Well, I don’t know much about him. Only his first and last name, that cause panic fear in me. He appears in my life, then disappears.»

«It’s karma!» the Swiss poet laughed. «Your dream is clearly about the funeral from your past life. Never mind! For sure, we are always shown only the previous funerals!»

At that moment, the driver of the car, who spoke exclusively Hungarian, turned on the local radio, but for some reason we heard Russian language, «Marina Tsvetaeva died and was buried in Elabuga. The generally accepted version of her death is suicide. However, some argue about…»

The poets in the car started shoving me in the sides, exclaiming, «Tsvetaeva! Tsvetaeva!» It was impossible to listen to the program about Marina, because the translator in Hungarian spoke louder than the Russian original. A minute later, the car stopped, we arrived at our destination.

…As soon as I returned from Hungary, a courier called me from Germany, where my book of poems «Without a Mask» had just been published. We met, and he gave me my copies. I had no time to enter the office, as my fellow oligarch remembered me inviting to dine together, and I agreed. Somewhere in the afternoon, I got another call. I put my hand on the phone and shuddered.

«Hello,» I said, trying not to show my excitement.

«Hello, Alice! Are you comfortable talking now?» addressing me without «Miss’, the male voice thundered.

«It depends on what about,» I answered automatically, and a wave of panic fear overwhelmed me.

«Call me back when you can talk.»

«In the evening,» I replied, and we said goodbye.

I sat at my desk for a long time, staring blankly at the PC, wondering, «Who is he? Why does this endless story never end? This happens when you took a wrong step and fell out of the chain of events prescribed for you, and it hangs around your neck or wags its tail, until life again brings you back to the same situation with the same people in order to play the role to the end according to the script written from Above. But what kind of script is that? The script of what, comedy or tragedy? What the hell is it about?!»

I had lunch with the oligarch. He offered me a job at his company as a CEO. I said that I had just signed a job contract with the Germans.

In the evening, I drank coffee in a coffeehouse trying to overcome my fear, to dial the number of the Man in White. With the maximum effort of will, I pressed the call button of the desired subscriber. The Man in White didn’t answer. It made me laugh, he was my dream, for sure! He didn’t exist! But soon the Man in White called me back. I said the usual «hello» and was ready to hear anything in reply, except for the thundering, «Who are you?»

My mind spread its wings to leave me, but I forced myself to answer calmly, without emotion, like a sane girl, «You asked me to call you tonight when I can talk.»

The pause lasted long enough, but ended with, «What about?»

«I don’t know,» I laughed.

«Are you looking for a job?» he asked in a rough voice.

«No, I’m not, thanks,» I laughed again.

He said he had a second line call, and he would call me back later. I paid for my coffee and left the coffeehouse, heading home. The Man in White called me back. And I didn’t understand anymore, whether it was a dream or reality.

«Alice, I’m sorry,» he laughed. «Aren’t you tired of that nonsense?»

«What do you mean?»

«I have a vacancy…»

«I have a signed contract with the Germans,» I was slowly losing my temper.

I was walking down the dark alleys to my house. Yes, what was happening to me was just another dream.

«How much do you get? I’ll pay you more. I need the employee urgently.»

I remembered everything that had happened in that dream up to that moment, while he continued to speak loudly and quickly. His voice was the voice of a man, sharp as a knife, ruthlessly cutting me into pieces. I was scared. He pressed on me.

«Where were you then, in summer?!» I shouted to him. «Where did you disappear to? I’ve already the contract signed!»

«I flew away and came back. Why talk about it? When do you come to work with me? I need it right now!»

We both spoke loudly at the same time, and I could hardly hear his words. He would kill me! He would! For sure! And I cried, «Who are you? I don’t know you! What do you want?»

Suddenly, we both fell silent. After a long pause, he said softly and slowly, «I just gave you information. If you are NOT interested…»

«Okay, I’ll come to you. Tomorrow evening,» I said decisively, in order to move the unplayable scenario at least in some direction, at the same time remembering that the icon of St. George the Victorious, brought to him from Greece as a gift, lived in my house.

The next day in the evening, after the exhausting procedure of nomination for one of the literary awards, I arrived at his Palace. He sat at the table, turned halfway to me, trying not to look at me with his piercing look. I handed him my books as a gift, «Occasional Poems» and «The Book of Knowledge», in which I told the world about his terrible force of attraction and repulsion.

«Thank you,» he said indifferently, leafing through the book of poems.

«The third part is yours,» I added.

«Actually, everything is the same. From 10 to 19. Sick leave at your own expense. I told you about money. Oh, and one more thing, August is now a working month. No vacation, except for May holidays and the New Year.»

«Do you have a heart?» I burst out for some reason and bit my tongue.

«A heart? Who? Me?» The Man in White turned to me and looked at me in surprise. «Yes, I have. You’ll think about it until tomorrow!»

I looked at the Man in White and thought, «God, «tomorrow’ is already tomorrow, and not some other day later! Who is he? How old is he? What am I afraid of? What does my Subconscious know I don’t know yet? What does it try to protect me from in every possible way?»

My Subconscious didn’t find anything better than to lie, «Tomorrow I’m meeting with an oligarch. He offers me the position of CEO. The day after tomorrow.»

Just the day before, I had said «no» to the oligarch, and even if he had offered me to take his own chair, I would have still refused, because…

«Oligarch? Are you still thinking? What’s there to think about then?» the Man in White exclaimed and added, «Okay, the day after tomorrow.»

I left, forgetting to give him the icon of St. George.

I called him to say «yes». He didn’t answer my call. I waited for him to call me back, but he didn’t.

«It’s not Him,» I though, and tears almost appeared in my eyes.

In the evening, shuffling the Tarot, having asked the cards for the first time, «Who is he?», I got one of the 78, and it was the 15th Major Arcana, «The Devil».