Oleksandr Dan - Insomvita

“So, you believe that by killing yourself in this life, you will simply wake up in the other, like in a dream? Right?” the doctor asked. “If that is so, and if we are, as you believe, in a dream right now, what will stop you from coming back here the next time? It’s just a dream, after all. And if we were to assume that you are right and this world is your dream, how can you be sure that you haven’t killed yourself before in this life, which you’ve just called a dream?”

“That is only my assumption. As for a suicide, I would probably remember it. I do remember everything that happened to me yesterday, a month or several years ago. I remember everything, starting with my childhood."

“Probably you would…” The doctor again looked at Robert and continued in a serious tone: “Let’s assume this world is your dream. So, what is to prevent the brain of the sleeping Trevor from simulating unrealistic details of your life, the ones you would see as given, undeniable facts, because here they are implanted in your memory. Do you understand the absurdity of the situation? By the way, how long have you had suicidal thoughts?”

“Maybe five-six years. Right after I finally realized that I could not find a way out or understand the situation. I’ve often thought about it and I clearly remember when I was very close to taking that last step, but I’ve never been able to go through with it.”

Robert fell silent. The doctor continued to stare at him, thinking about something. A silence fell upon the room. There was a mix of doubt and interest in the doctor’s eyes.

“Well, dear," he said at last. "I will take on your case. Tomorrow’s a day off, so we will have a session at my home office. Drug therapy won’t work here. We will dig into your brain, into your consciousness. We will start from the beginning. We do use clinical hypnosis as a form of psychotherapy, as your Amanda said, but first I will ask you to remember some more details and share them with me. I will be expecting you tomorrow at this address."

The doctor wrote his home address neatly on his business card, which was atypical for members of his profession, and handed it to Robert.

“I will not keep you in suspense. I’m expecting you tomorrow at 10 am. And pass on the warmest greetings to Amanda for me.”

The doctor escorted Robert to the exit, but at the door he suddenly looked into his eyes and said in a cold voice: “I don’t believe you, my dear. I don’t believe a word you’ve said for a second, and you will have to really try hard to prove otherwise. I am, however, intrigued, as your lie is totally implausible. In fact, so implausible that it could turn out to be true!”

Robert stood quietly over the abyss, listening to steady sound of the river. He watched the black streams break between the large boulders, which brought back to him fragments of his childhood and youth. The faces of people, his family, close friends or simply acquaintances appeared and disappeared in his head. Some were laughing, others were giving disapproving looks. Meanwhile, the water kept rushing, swirling and roaring, almost helplessness to overcome the flat, snow-covered stones that stood on its path to freedom.

But Robert didn’t notice this. His mind was far away from the river and from this wintry place.

Who is he? Trevor from his dreams, who became a part of his thoughts, memories and his body, it seemed, or Robert, who was closer and more distinct just a couple days ago, but no longer. In this moment, the memories blended and everything in his head raged and seethed like the waters at the base of the cliff. The memories of Trevor’s life and reality intertwined, throwing up and dragging back images and scenes from one and the other.

Suddenly Robert’s mind took him back to the day when it first happened. Everything stopped, fell silent, and the memory of that years-old condition enveloped Robert in a warm and powerful feeling of something that had been long forgotten and nearly lost.

…It was Christmas Eve. Children’s room. A big table in the middle with a small, decorated Christmas tree on top. Gold and silver tinsel drooped from its branches, while big cotton snowflakes filled the spaces in between. The tree shone with garlands of lights in many shapes and colors, creating fairy-like reflections that made the holiday even more magical.

Under the tree were several oranges and a white papier-mâché Santa Claus holding a staff and a red sack full of gifts over his shoulder. Every year he appeared under a new Christmas tree, having been taken out of an old faded cardboard box, where he was stored together with the ornaments, garlands, faded yellow cotton and long tinsel made of multicolored tinfoil.

The smell of the fresh spruce filled the room, with the scents of vanilla and fresh pastries breaking through from the kitchen.

Robert did not understand why he had woken up. He was simply looking sleepily at the Christmas tree with its glittering lights. He could hear bells ringing, an accordion playing and Christmas carols being sung outside in the distance.

Christmas celebrations were in full swing. People, dressed in the costumes of vertep [11] Vertep (ukr) – nativity play. , were performing the show in the middle of the snow-covered street. They were clad in leather, fur-lined jackets, girded with belts around their waists and crosswise on their chests, rough trousers tucked into felt boots and large and small iron bells attached to their belts. The bells chimed with many tones, timbre and duration as the players ran around or stomped their feet. Crude black masks with slits for eyes covered their faces; they wore black turbans with red ribbons and held curved wooden sticks or brooms. According to tradition, they were forbidden to speak; they only growled and barked like dogs, frightening passers-by and amusing children. Other participants in the nativity scene – carolers – were dressed in Hutsul folk costumes – keptars [12] Keptar ( ukr ) – decorated sheepskin vest. , sardaks [13] Sardak ( ukr ) – upper short dress with sleeves. or goatskin kozhukhs [14] Kozhukh ( ukr ) – traditional fur coat. . They carried a long pole topped by a large star in front of them and sang traditional kolyadky [15] Kolyadky ( ukr ) – Christmas carols. .

The shows were performed at nearly every door. Four deacons carried a model of the village church and a donation box from one household to the other. The families would listen to the carols and psalms, give gifts to carolers and make donations to the church.

Joy and laughter abounded. Despite the cold, the accordionists played with bare hands, pressing the keys and buttons in time with the carolers. For three days the festivities would fade away near dawn only to start up again at dusk.

It was dark on the streets of Harsfolvo, a little village on the outskirts of the resort town of Solva, stranded between the mountains where Robert’s family lived. But thanks to the abundant snow that fell just before the New Year’s and bright light of the stars, the world looked magical.

The houses along the street were pressed together by narrow courtyards. Anyone passing could see Christmas trees with colorful lights, ornaments and garlands sparkling through the windows.

Robert had a hard time keeping his eyes open; he was tired and sleep overcame him, trying to break his will and yield to the intoxicating spirit of Morpheus. It was always nice and sweet to fall asleep.

Robert dropped his head onto the soft pillow and sank into fantasies that smoothly transitioned into dreams.

“Trevor! Hello! Wakey-wakey! You’ve slept long enough!”

The cheerful female voice came from the kitchen, followed by the chiming of glasses, plates, and cutlery, which the woman was setting on the breakfast table.

“Wake up, Trevor!”

Robert opened his eyes only after somebody pulled his comforter off.

“Auntie, let me sleep a while longer. Five more minutes,” he groaned sleepily and tried to pull the comforter back, but it slid to the floor.

Robert reached for the quilt, but he could not grab it on his first try, so he moved closed to the edge. At that moment, something incredible happened. It was as if he found himself in a world behind a looking-glass. In the middle of a huge room with a high ceiling stood a magnificent Christmas tree, lusciously decorated with round ornaments, animal figurines, glowing garlands of different colors, and great golden and red bows. A bright red star was perched on the very tip of the tree, which lit up in all the colors of the rainbow. The big red and blue ornaments, smaller white and green ones, candies wrapped in white napkins, all hung by multicolored threads, together creating an aura of something magical and ethereal.

Robert could not tear his surprised and enthralled gaze off the Christmas tree. This was the first time in his life that he had seen such a wonder.

Robert could not tell if what he was seeing was real. He looked around and to his surprise saw that he was in a different, tidy, foreign room. It was light and spacious, with walls painted bright yellow and a blue ceiling blazoned with tiny, skillfully painted stars. New furniture clung to the walls, which were adorned with an entire library of the most varied of books.

On the other side of the room stood a black lacquered piano, ready to be played. And toys – dozens, maybe even hundreds of toys. The sheer abundance of playthings made him dizzy. There were small and big model cars, leather balls for football and basketball, but most importantly there was a huge model railway set. Its tracks wound around the Christmas tree and throughout the room. There were tunnels, lights, bridges, and other incredible details beyond Robert’s wildest dreams. Above his bed a model of a real aircraft hung on invisible threads. Everything was astounding and incomprehensible.

Robert sat on the bed, his eyes wide open with bewilderment and fascination. This was the first time he had experienced such a vivid dream and he did not want this fairytale to end. Robert shut his eyes dreamily…

“Robert, get up! How many times do I have to call you?!" his mom called from the kitchen. She approached Robert’s bed and shook his shoulder.

Robert opened his eyes and got up. He was still in his old room. There was the small Christmas tree on the table in the middle of the floor. The bright colors had vanished, as did all the toys. On the wall next to Robert’s bed hung a photo of a new car from an automobile magazine, pinned wall with blue plasticine at the four corners.

His mother was making a ruckus in the kitchen.

Sitting on his bed, Robert tried to comprehend what had just happened to him. Suddenly he realized what had startled and flustered him the most. In his dream the woman had called him Trevor, and it sounded normal to him, not surprising at all, although he had never heard the name in his life. Why Trevor? Where was he just now? What kind of dream was it, why was it so vivid, real, almost genuine? And why auntie?

But the dream had vanished like a fairytale.

Amanda’s office was on the third floor of a seven-story building on Rue du Cendrier 19, in the very heart of Geneva. Jovan was waiting for Trevor at the front entrance after his session. Trevor greeted his friend with a warm hug and a slap on the shoulder. They quickly ascended the wide stairs and stopped at the door. Under the intercom button, the plaque read “Amanda Fabian – Psychologue [16] Psychologue (fr.) – psychologist ”.