Description
...on Thursday, Valera woke up again inside Sveta's dream, and although it was snowing outside the window of reality, it was again hot and humid in the dream. the mosquito appeared almost immediately this time. making three friendly circles around Valera's nose, the mosquito hovered in front of his face and began to squeak narratively:
“You people are always complaining that your life is short, but think about mosquitoes. a human is like a huge locomotive rushing through life, millions of mosquitoes smash against his windshield, he knocks down hundreds of hares and ducks, dozens of cows. but when the speed of his life slows down, he is dissatisfied with the rare change of picture, and when he stops completely at the depot of old age, he begins to complain that he was driving too fast and did not have time to enjoy the journey, although flowers still grow around and heavenly flowers sit on his rusty attic birds and the sun shines through sooty windows…..
but for us, mosquitoes, you are born, you fly for the first time and "slap" - the first strong sensation is the blow of the wet tongue of the swamp toad ... and you're gone, however rather you are still here, but not the same place anymore)”
the mosquito laughed, Valera caught a squeak with interruptions like the laughter of a neurotic nerd
Valera suddenly asked: why are you squeaking to me about life and death? I didn’t die, I’m in a dream! mosquito?!? what's up with life and death here?
⁃ I think death is also a dream, we have met here eventually, I don’t know how it really works, I have just recently died
⁃ don't mosquitoes and people end up in different worlds after death? Well, there are horses in the horse afterlife, mosquitoes in the mosquito one? people into human?
⁃ ahaha (a mosquito squealed) it depends on the width or narrowness of your perception, don’t think that I’m trying to humiliate you now, it’s just that you people always divide everything: communists and anarchists, liberals and democrats, black and white is your everything, but we mosquitoes don’t care who we bite, when I died, I also fell into some very narrow dream of my native swamp, but then I quickly found a way out and began to travel between dreams
⁃ so there is a connection between dreams?!
⁃ certainly!
⁃ and can I get into another dream?
⁃ naturally!
⁃ but when?
⁃ even now) choose to whom we will fly to? whose blood shall we drink? ah, you don't drink blood)) ahaha, who would you like to see? but he must be either dead or asleep)
⁃ got it! Svetas' boss recently crashed in a car accident! let's see where he died at?
⁃ let's go)
⁃ The mosquito took out a lighter from nowhere, struck it and the dream in which Valera slept disappeared, or rather, he curled up to a pot with a tropical flower in Valera's hands, it became dark around and Valera followed the luminous one - a silhouette of mosquito with a lighter
⁃ hold tightly the pot with your dream, if you will lose or break it - you won’t be able to wake up - the mosquito squeaked and that was the last thing Valera heard before he woke up...
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Original artwork is oil on paper / Digital copy of an analog artwork
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