I woke up with a clear thought, he was a dream. He hadn’t come to the Mansion. It was just a trick of my agonizing Consciousness, in every possible way resisting the decision to slip away into the Other Reality during the last, the 40th party in the Mansion. Clinging to life, Consciousness created a phantom from my past that could soften my heart to rewrite the life script. I even dreamed about Roman that night, even with a small belly, like in the very dream I felt happy of having finally found him.
However, he appeared again. Roman. My non-existent romance. He smiled watching me on the stage with interest.
When I reached the break for the autograph session of the Ninth decade, I sailed up to him.
“I’ve dreamed about you today,” I whispered, not adding “darling” from fear.
“Perhaps we all are dreams of each other, but this is not a reason to lose darlings. Besides, I did your home task and made a plan for the next 12 months. What does your plan consist of, Alice? I hope you didn’t forget to include my name as well. At least as your student?”
I silently scanned Roman and couldn’t understand what was wrong. Wrong in the whole story: the sudden snowfall of Roman and Pasha’s puzzles. Why? What for? I couldn’t allow myself…
“Okay, Alice, silence is a sign of agreement,” Roman smiled. “Do you know what impressed me in the most charming Baba Yaga of today?”
“How easily did she fly onto the stage?”
“With what ease, joy, tenderness, and without any complexes, she recalled a magical night with her lover in their years. How old was she then? The Witch with ‘The Devil’s Trill’ looked half her age! However, as you correctly noted at the presentation, age for her, judging by the book, is a sore point, as well as the age difference between…”
I went cold and couldn’t utter a word.
“So what’s the next task, Master?”
At that moment, a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. I turned around and saw the King of Swords.
“Do you mind if I walk you home after the Open Mic?” he asked.
I rashly glanced at Roman with the look that gives away any girl. However, Roman just smiled like saying, “I can’t stay here that long.”
“Okay,” I replied to the King of Swords, and his heavy hand immediately disappeared from my shoulder.
“Do you like him?” Roman asked silently.
“The King of Swords never becomes the King of Cups!”
The Guardian rang the bell, and the break was over.
“You asked me about the next task,” I returned to the ground. “Audit your swamp!”
Task No. 2. INVENTORY
…Make an inventory of all things and objects, including clothes, souvenirs, other people’s gifts, books, magazines, photographs and even files on your electronic device – basically, of everything in your space.
The space should be filled with living energy working for you. Every object has a unique energy, but perhaps some of them have already fulfilled their purpose, and some are not yours at all. Review each item. What feelings does it evoke in you? Decide whether there is a place for it in your world here and now. If it causes negative emotions or none at all, this is not yours, say “thank you” and part with it without regret, with joy. Since the world doesn’t tolerate emptiness, something new will definitely replace the old…
The task is to open your door for the Future…
I went onto the stage and announced the Open Mic. The Cat was already sitting in Roman’s place.
***
I returned home and looked around my swamp.
“Should I sort things out on the weekend? Maybe. To take half to church. Two literary parties have already passed, and the 40th is just around the corner. I will spend the 40th and breathe out: freedom! F-R-E-E-D-O-M!
The 38 evenings left are enough, of course, to find the main Portal in the Mansion. It can’t sneak away from me! The Guardian has no right to prompt, but the Mansion is not the Winter Palace, it’s quite tiny. And nothing would keep me here anymore. Nothing and no one!”
***
“Hi, my girl. How u?”
“It’s 2 a.m.”
“Alone?”
“Pasha…”
“Like u much but u so distance. Me 4 u how?.. If want. How u want?”
“What’s happened with you, Pasha? Why did you suddenly remember me? What for? I am older than you. You are such a beautiful, kind boy… Forget!”
“Understand. Problem age only? No nerves! 4 me no difference u older. I like u much. Many years like. Feel good with u. Will love always. No leave u. Never. True say 2 u. I call?”
He called me, but I dropped it. What was going on looked like the delirium of a madman. I got out of bed, reached the Tarot cards in the darkness, turned on the nightlight.
Incredible! “The Knight of Cups”, “The Magician” and “The Devil” again! They haunted me. But…
“Now… what for?”
Chapter 3. SINNER
“Funny poster!” the Guardian whispered softly as he helped me remove my furs. “Is it true that the author is a prankster?”
“You didn’t read the poster carefully. His book is called ‘The Sinner’! Anyway, I haven’t tried.”
Leaving my cup of coffee on the table, almost forever registered for me, I ducked into the next room of the museum. The Guardian followed me.
“Here is a box for letters to the Creator,” he said.
“And the postbox at the door outside?”
“Yes, there is the second one.”
“I sent him my poems. Many years ago, Natasha Nikiforova invited me to the action of the ‘Evening Moscow’ TV to read poetry on the Ponds. It was the similar blizzard as today. The verses I had read, I dropped into the postbox at the Door to the Mansion. I had no pen with me, so I sent poetry instead of a letter.”
The Guardian took a pen and a paper notepad out of his pocket.
“Write it now,” he suddenly whispered, coming close to me.
“Everything has already been decided,” I answered categorically, hanging in thought, “Now what for?”
For some reason, I wanted to hug the Guardian, but I stood like an idol. And he hugged me.
“Here it is!!!” I suddenly felt something and took a step aside. “The Portal is here, isn’t it?”
The Guardian chuckled, but he had no time to answer, because the door to the room opened slightly, and the Cat appeared on the threshold.
“Meow?!” he said in surprise.
I left the room without writing anything to the Creator.
***
The Sinner stood embarrassed on the stage, as if in front of Christ. The hall was crowded with women. While the hero of the party was reciting poems, perceived as a divine revelation in advance, the women, in their dreams, already wrapped