I dreamed of

I dreamed of corporate high rises converted into dwellings for people. I dreamed of the Rybalsky bridge and driving along it in childhood. I dreamed of dark deep forests full of blueberries. I dreamed of beautiful beaches in Prerov from the past. I dreamed of touching the cold white sand and hot salty water of the Baltic again. I dreamed of Hamburg. I dreamed of hearing the desperate screams of seagulls in front of its train station. I dreamed of its seafood restaurants at the waterfront overlooking the harbour. I dreamed of theatre plays being not overly dramatic. I dreamed of seeing the polar explorers on stage. I dreamed of writing with oversimplified sentences. I dreamed of taking good photographs. I dreamed of driving a car. I dreamed of days when I just take a car and drive wherever the road takes me. I dreamed of men in sleek black suits. I dreamed of my child speaking my native language. I dreamed of not losing my native language myself. I dreamed of being a friend, not a parent. I dreamed of a place of my own. I dreamed of a happy home with tropical, looking like an almost abandoned, but in reality, carefully maintained garden, looking like a Venetian palazzo somehow, but also like a Scandinavian home. I dreamed of a house near the ocean, or at least near the sea. I dreamed of a house overlooking a dark pine forest on a cliff. I dreamed of black sand and melting glaciers in Iceland. I dreamed of black sand stuck to my hips. I dreamed of black sand stuck to my feet while I’m rushing home across a weathered wooden terrace. I dreamed of a storm. I dreamed of observing storms from the sea every single day.  I dreamed of harsh winds messing up my hair. I dreamed of seagulls trying to fly in the storm but instead floating on the wind. I dreamed of hotel rooms. I dreamed of not being ashamed of who I am with men. I dreamed of never dreaming again. Cause dreams are the reasons for heart attacks. Cause dreams are the reasons for heartbreaks. I dreamed of doing my laundry across the street, waiting, and reading. But instead, I was doing my laundry at home. I dreamed of meeting people in the bar. I dreamed of being comfortable meeting people at all. I dreamed of being able to express my opinions publicly, without overthinking, without embarrassment. I dreamed of being sure of my thoughts. I dreamed of knowing what is right and what is wrong, without overlooking the complexities. I dreamed of Pieter Bruegel the Elder being the first urbanist. But he depicted village life. I dreamed of sleeping without a pillow. I dreamed of wearing a male wristwatch. I dreamed of wearing male clothes and male suits. But I never dreamed of being a male. I dreamed of shaking hands with men when meeting them. I dreamed of thin silk shirts and slip dresses. I dreamed of an airport runway every Monday. I dreamed of being a cabin crew attendant. I dreamed of speed trains. I dreamed of a loud typewriter with a double ‘N’. I dreamed of another Earth. I dreamed of another me. But in reality, there are no second chances. I dreamed of silence while people are talking. I dreamed of people valuing silence more than words. I dreamed of people understanding the value of silence. I dreamed of a cookbook with all the proper recipes in it. I dreamed of the smell of sea salt on my arms. I dreamed of the taste of sea salt on my arms. Just like in childhood, in this tunnel in Gagra. I dreamed of some truth about myself. I dreamed of some truth about others. I dreamed of Chagall’s paintings. I dreamed of a goat in the middle of my backyard. I think that’s why I’m crazy about blue colour, because of his paintings. I dreamed of a love affair like an LSD trip. Where I can control the volume and what matters. I dreamed of desperate reviews on meals in restaurants. But no one ever wrote them. I dreamed of writing these reviews myself, to recreate the feeling of eating like the last time, but over and over again. I dreamed of people accepting only the first letter of my name. I dreamed of people perceiving expertise and competence as a story telling and not as an affiliation with certification or accreditation board. I dreamed of not needing a website portfolio. I dreamed of somebody taking photographs of me like seeing through me. And someone did. I dreamed of living in a high-rise building with a concierge. I dreamed of the mistakes that I wouldn’t be afraid to make. I dreamed of the beauty being sold over the counter in the night supermarkets or drugstores. Just like alcohol or painkillers are sold. Once I even dreamed of losing everything. Until I lost everything. I dreamed of a small piece from October 2008, but I don’t remember why anymore. I dreamed of not remembering December 2014. I dreamed of never remembering the voice of terrorists. I dreamed of being able to walk Hrushevskoho street again. I dreamed of a staircase leading to the National Art Museum and D. waiting for me at the top of it. I dreamed of having a red wedding dress. But it will never suit me anyway. I even dreamed of the temperature at -2 degrees Celsius. I dreamed of air smelling like a rain just before one starts. I dreamed of first snow every November. I dreamed of Stockholm. I dreamed of Stockholm even in my dreams. I dreamed of Øresund Bridge. I dreamed of the North coasts. I dreamed of cold landscapes. I dreamed of dramatic landscapes. I dreamed of ferries. I dreamed of distant islands and ferries connecting them. I dreamed of Greenland and its snow desserts. I dreamed of going there on a ship. I dreamed of crossing these snow desserts. I dreamed of snow storms. I dreamed of extra warm yellow winter jackets. I dreamed of being a planner in remote northern communities. I dreamed of tattooing only the left side of my body. Because that’s where the pain is. I dreamed of cozy wool sweaters and a fireplace on a long winter night. I dreamed of train number 2046. I dreamed of looking like a Scandinavian woman. So I dressed like them. I dreamed of talking without verbs. But it’s impossible. I dreamed of being able to speak Danish. I dreamed of a big family Christmas gatherings without fights.  I dreamed of apple gardens in blossom. I dreamed of fearing nothing. I dreamed of cold bedding at dawn. I dreamed of being able to speak like Julia Ioffe. I dreamed of smoking and drinking wine on the streets of Barcelona. I dreamed of wandering these streets drunk with A.. I dreamed of dipping my hand in the black soil. I dreamed of a home like never before. I dreamed of huge farm fields full of wheat on the road back home and to D.. I dreamed of a big dog sleepy barking at the passers-by, just like my grandparents had. I dreamed of just living my life, not having attachments or goals. I dreamed of having a simple job, just working at the harbour. I dreamed of living in Montréal. Now I do. I dreamed of the mental urban map that will remind me of places where things happened. I dreamed of old lamps and a special barely noticeable sound while turning them on. I dreamed of empty white rooms with high ceilings and almost no furniture. I dreamed of huge windows with no curtains. I dreamed that loneliness wasn’t that bad habit which is very hard to refuse. I dreamed of being able to write again. I dreamed of being able to write in a foreign language, like Samuel Beckett did. I dreamed of being able to write something similar to the ending monologue in “Blade Runner.” I dreamed of M. coming back to her child, though she is way past this point in time. I dreamed of Brett from Fiesta for too many times that I already think that I am her in the future. I dreamed of coming back to Jake as Brett always does, because Jake no longer believes in anything. I dreamed of no war in my country. I dreamed of not having first childhood memories about war too. I dreamed of never reading the transcript of the snipers’ conversation shooting people on the rooftop of the Ukraina hotel. I dreamed of not remembering the dates. But now all these dates are imprinted in my mind.  I dreamed of no news special on the night of February 24, 2022. I dreamed of not waking up my family with a telephone call and saying that the war had started. I dreamed of a man who’s gonna say that everything will be okay, though he does not believe in it himself. I dreamed of being able to hug my friends. I still do. I dreamed of being able to be a war reporter. I dreamed of being able to fight for the truth like they do. I dreamed of being objective. But objectiveness is a moral idea, not a fact. I dreamed of being impartial. But I cannot. No one can when their friends are being killed and deprived of opportunities. I dreamed of never seeing mass graves in Bucha, Irpin and Izum. I dreamed of never seeing protestors being beaten on the streets by police forces. I dreamed of never knowing the smell of tear gas. I dreamed of Mariupol not being destroyed. I dreamed of Melitopol train station having no meaning again. I dreamed of… But at some point, I’ll have to stop.