Nikolai's Palace

After a long journey through the intestines of my house, where I have an unfortunate encounter with certain people of the biological appeal, I am defecated next to the barbershop, which surprisingly not enough, is located nearby to where I live. Or at least where my physical self dwells during the hours of daylight. That is on the 5^th and west, Romanka village road, “там где вода течет быстро”. And the water does run fast here. We usually use boats to get around, but today I decide to swim. The water looks fantastic at the ticking of the watch. The red and white ripples that rest on the surface of cold, fresh water are enveloped by the lazy yellow light of the street lamp. This looks like a scene from Van Gogh’s painting. And my very own reflection, I see, is a picture painted by some great hand of an artist. It is very mystifying, at least for the moment. Some old guy comes out on the porch of his house dressed in very embarrassing boxers that you know only your grandfather would wear. So I begin to laugh. And I start to think whether or not when I am older, if I will be a grandfather too.

            I begin to reminisce about a dream into which my mind has ventured last night. There, in the memories silo, I remember walking through a narrow street toward a cemetery- with some classical music, dimly playing in the background –violin concerto, 2nd movement. Driven by an uncontrollable urge to expolore I come upon the gates of mausoleum-I walk through the closed gate. A young, blond – blue eyed girl is out to greet me. She says “Привет!” and I answer “Hola!” We look at one another for a minute and after looking at her dress I notice that she is wearing gummy bubble gums strapped all over her belt. “Ma, une jeune fille, mais je t’aime!„,” I tell her, and she offers me her candy. I grab it like an animal driven by rabies out of her hand and eat it-without trying to chew. I don’t say thank you. Then I begin to collapse into a void, and forget the remainder of my trip. The symphony that I heard so vividly three-clock-strikes prior, now trudges into silence, and in the hollow space of my awakening I find my head tilting sideways - becoming the X-axis of the universal graph. I can’t get the emotion of being alive in a dream out of my head; or my head out of the emotion, or the head out of the emotion. But I know I need a great trim to look cool for tomorrows party. After all Katrina will be there. I can’t wait to see her. I remember the silly nights when we wallowed in innocence. I , half-naked running to her art school, slipping on the slippery ground, my heart full of love and worry. She is sick she said. And I… I react.

          “Gosh, why did they have to come so early?”  I am complaining as I smell Katrina’s red blushed neck. “They are my brothers, you know?” she answers. The party is very boring, there is no decent food over here and the wine, it tastes stale as the hoof of a horse. My love is here, but she is talking to someone in a green coat. She makes me laugh. It is just her manner of doing things. I grab her ass, but in such a way that does not draw attention of all the live-action posters in suits around us. She giggles as I pull my hand out of her ass and notice a wrapper. It is a candy wrapper of dark burgundy blood color.

          I am looking at the candy wrapper that is lying flat and wet on the palm of my hand as I am swimming toward the barber shop. Slowly, I begin to recollect some more of that dream. I remember now. When I ate blue-eyes girl’s candy I began to hear a familiar sound of music coming from her sphere. It was a techno version of my classical song. A variation, but a well rendered one. Then as I swallow the candy, I begin to feel our songs fusing together, producing a single melody; a united movement of drums and violas and techno power beats. “This is funny” I said looking into her blue eyes, feeling a tingly sensation of our music on my skin. “What is your name?” Then silence again.

          I feel angry for not being able to remember the entire dream. I wonder if you can dream within a dream or if one’s dreams have any gravity on the real world. But i’m young, what do i know of such science. 

          As I swim toward the barber shop, I come upon a puppeteer turkeying with her dolls. The woman apparently has a white beard that stretches long …