Sergey Vassiliev - The realm of tormenting dreams

Leaping back, I can say that I survived the first year at the college, doing generally not bad there, but unfortunately, in a suppressed state of depression, which, perhaps, was preparing this fantastic rise of mood, exposing its facade. But it still did not deprive me of the opportunity to fall in love with the famous Public Library, where I really enjoyed spending my time, I was delighted with the spirit of this institution, which once had been visited by the top brains. I could sit there for hours and even thought out reasons to stay when my program was exhausted, I helped pass exams to fellow students, but not exactly to help them, but to sit and write here, in the best place on earth. Now let’s return to the situation which rooted away my ability to be a student, and as a result, in general, one of those who are mentally healthy. I turned into something completely unusual, along with other people, into the creatures of this fairy life, and now my intrinsic standard was altered; I was sure of what was happening to me, not only from inside, but also outside. Everything told me about the new order. Here everything was different for me in my idea of greatness, in this complex of Christ. I generally ignored and rejected the postulates of the established ordinary way of life, which, in fact, Christ did in his time, surprising others with the new life laws, claiming to be the king of the new world. But I must say that it was hardly possible to call my life normal, because before, of course, the excitations had not been so striking, but they made me too cheerful and lively teenager, and as time passed I seemed to be exhausted and weak, losing the emotions of that, as they seemed to me, happy life, getting thus in the captivity of depressive feelings and self-reproaches. And this time, I became so cheerful that I was completely in the power of this over cheerful mood, because I was happy with that relief that made me suddenly free and confident, I went crazy, but also took a step towards the development and understanding of myself, the step, which, unfortunately, was a fatal thrust to an excessive jubilation entailing also madness, whose images began to rule everything in me. But in fact, I did not really supposed that it was the feelings in my family, heavy and ferocious, that bothered me, originated the escape into psychosis. What happened at home, the love that came from my parents, completely stopped with the birth of my brother, and it became hard for me, and especially painful. I was not able to stand this alienation, and simply stated that I was a God. And I began to play this role in life, taking all the adversities that could only be resulted by such a rude deviation from the postulates of normal life. After all, I fully believed in this illusion, and like the knight-errant Don Quixote, who passionately believed in his mission as a knight, I, in my turn, was ready to suffer anything in life, remaining faithful to the fate of the god I felt to be, even if this threatened me depriving the prizes of life, understanding of others and in general facing all sorts of misfortunes that would soon just fall upon me for such assurance. But what to do, it was very difficult to dissuade me in this idea, when the psychosis with its turbulent mood and terrible fantasies inside me, did not give me the slightest chance to keep within the world of the old settings and so viciously set me on fire by its intoxication that the road was open only forward. I needed much a very powerful sobering up, a brake on these judgments, directly proportional to their assault force. This counteraction was prepared by my mentality, but the explosions of maniacal ideas continued for a very long time and were incredibly stubborn.

At first I was for many people, perhaps, just a very bright and active person, which confused people in a way that I liked and ensured the triumph of the “mania”, thus suggesting me first of all the rightness of the path which I had taken. My mother decided that I would be a great man, since I am so self-confident. My father said that I was behaving and thinking like a forty-year-old man. Well, of course, the praise of parents is the most important for a child, and I was completely convinced of my normality, I did not seem strange and illogical to myself, but, on the contrary, much smarter than those who surrounded me, and, of course, in such situation I was expecting much more success in everything. My grandmother was overjoyed and surprised at my active mood during our communication, and even totally justified the idea of God by comparing me to Stalin, who spoke, as she knew, that he was also a god or, at least, no worse than a god… On the whole, my behavior was met within my family as a necessary, an accomplished stage of my development towards a strong person. But my parents did not rejoice for long, for I already said that I left the college and started to propagate, i.e. to give my love to those who, in my opinion, needed it so much, and these were all my numerous friends from the village, where I usually spent weekends and vacations. Why should I go to the university when I’m smarter than anyone else? What will they give me there? And in general – soon I will be able to materialize money, and so on… Let learn those who need this education, I have more important things to do: to perform miracles and to lead people is now important, and besides, I will acquire all the knowledge of the world from myself, my hidden potentials, and it was just a question of time to wait. So I quited my favorite college and decided to make quick money on politics.

The pre-election campaign began, my mom saying: “These are the richest people in the city, we only have to take money from them, but how?” I decided to offer them some agitators from among the village youth and so did: I came to them in the office and began to speak, I stunned them, I aroused their interest, they promised to come. I gathered the youth, I explained everything, but all drunken teenagers are unorganized and fearful. I had told my adult friends to come up. A party gathered in which everybody was ruined by alcohol and drugs, also the riches arrived, even they were influenced by the power of maniacal conviction. I almost told them that I was God when convincing. We looked at all that village rabble, said something about football, turned around – and left. Though I disappointed them, but, I must say, surprised the boys from my native village, this was enough for my vanity. The divine is for the God.

These teenagers, to whom I sincerely became attached, began to notice in me something odd because sometimes I gave out my thoughts aloud. “Vasya’s gone crazy”, one of my friends told me, totally sure, in his turn, of my adequacy. I was then busy with the opening the mind’s eye and a similar remark, as I still recall it in my memory, but at that time decided to dissuade others from such a mostly evil assessment of my temperament. But more and more I heard remarks about my insanity, and the girl I was in love with at that time told me, unable to withstand the passions, that everybody mocked at me. They made such assessment not at once; I can say for sure that many people, especially close friends, were for some time undoubtedly convinced that I am a real god, including that girl whose grandmother told my granny that her granddaughter proudly asserted that Serge is a god, and probably she was very pleased that love affairs took place with such an important person. I must say, the fact that I considered myself a god, did not at all controverted the necessary idea of my normality for people who loved me. So unusual were my relations with a huge number of my friends; for almost every work assignment connected with a fairly large farm, I brought with me a whole crowd of teenagers, motivating them with a kind of special power of my inner magnetism, and the kids did the hard work for free to help his so dearly beloved friend. There were cases when over twenty people appeared in the garden fields, and everyone was stimulated by the altruism of the other and, of course, by my special attention, which helped them to feel, I think, happier, and the work seemed to them a fun game. These “walks to Vasya’s garden”, repeated for many years and became a common thing. The nature of this phenomenon was in many respects a mystery to me, and the arisen idea of deification could become an “idée fixe” in such conditions, now the great organizer (in the opinion of many people) Vasya could have really be once that Krishna-boy, who cheerfully had led forward the children of his village in the pictures of Bhagavad Gita. And even after growing up to twenty years old, many of them, even the most stable and intelligent of my comrades, believed that they were friends of a real god. Some day I remembered, being already in deep depression, this suggestion to my friend’s mind, when Vovka expressed quite repulsive sarcasm in my direction, and he began to justify himself, saying: “We believed you,” thus dexterously hiding from the truth, which was the fact that, as I thought, his own maniacal attitudes were in full harmony with mine, and their union made my idea common, as also for Dimon, but these two comrades were smarter and more sober than many of the local guys and yet they got dexterously deceived.