Alisa Roft - He is real

Money works wonders in a mystical way, with each of us.

The driver’s words, that there were no more orders, and we were returning, pleased me, giving a feeling of relief. I relaxed, falling into the soft seat of the car, covered my unbearably heavy eyelids for several seconds, imagined me falling into a comfortable bed and getting to sleep. After all, over this night I managed to earn a lot of shekels (the only thing which Anna still took interest in – those pieces of paper soaked in indelible ink), and all things considered, the night, did not go in vain.

“Have you still reached out to his baked mind?” I began a mental dialogue with my “invisible friend.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t inspire anything to him. He had a knack for it, but used it in very rare cases and with caution. Most often he enabled me to manipulate people having resorted to his prompts. This night I didn’t have a desire to bother with all these manipulations, but nevertheless, the client had easily given me the wad of cash. Therefore, I assumed that my friend contributed to what had happened. – He just loved your sexually explicit dances and palmsing. And then he thought about ordering two more Ethiopian prostitutes. Wound up.”

What could be said to that? Sometimes it can be so simple. I refrained from commenting, ending our conversation, looked at the handsome Dani, tired and frowning, he was trying to concentrate on the night road. Respectable and responsible Dani, was sweating his guts out for the sake of his dream, there he has his own family, which he provides adequately. Moreover, this guy will make a caring father and a faithful husband.

He will continue military service and in four years, having received the rank of a senior sergeant, will die from the terrorist bullet, on the border with the Gaza Strip. Of course, I did not know about this at that time. And now, after several years, I consider that the well-known statement – the best are taken first – is true, and there is nothing more than the tricks of the “representatives of another world”. (Long ago we found a common language with the one, of the kind, who was assigned to the role of my mentor, I’ll tell you about others, but first things first).

Once in my empty rented apartment, I threw the bag on the floor in the hallway, took off my dress and threw it over the bag. I took a bottle of whiskey from the refrigerator, filled a shot glass up to the brim, drank and then swallowed a sleeping pill.

Standing under the shower, in a hurry, rubbing my body with a soapy washcloth, strongly pressing it to the skin, I was imagining that I was washing away all the traces from unknown hands, of those strangers who touched me today. I was imagining that the beloved warm big palms were sliding over my clean bare skin… and some time later, when I was in bed, waiting for the effect of the sleeping pill I had taken, once again a cold feeling of anguish swept over me, striking a person who is falling asleep and waking up many times alone. There has always been somebody to fill up the leisure, but making away with loneliness is completely different.

“Everything will be fine,” whispered the quiet voice of my “invisible friend.”

The effect of the pill taken a few minutes ago was not long in coming, my body relaxed, and my thoughts began to fade. I suddenly fell into a common dream (I rarely had them under the pills), saw my mother holding a cup filled with berries on her lap, she was saying how she missed me, with the sad expression fixed on her face, and stroked the sharp knuckles of my fingers with her free hand. Her eyes were so sad that it seemed that tears would flow from them, and then she dissolved, together with the dream that was going away.

My bedroom was filled with darkness; I always deliberately closed the blinds tightly so that the morning light would not wake me up with bright rays of the rising sun. Being only half-awake, I did not realize at once the sensation of the palm, which was still holding my hand. Reflexively I pulled it over, but in response I felt a strong pressure on my hand. And next to me someone was laying – kind of a man, my whole body could sense his presence.

I was paralyzed with horror, holding down my movements. Again I fell into a dream where I clearly understood that everything happening was just a dream, and in order to wake up, you must open your eyes, but my attempts did not bring the proper result. I heard the stranger, breathing intermittently very close in pitch darkness. He squeezed my hand hard, making it impossible to take it back. Fear was replaced by heartache, overflown with despair. This pain was tearing me from the inside, it was impossible to escape from it and it was impossible to stop it. I understood that it was his pain, of that somebody who was present, existing in another world.

Time after time I tried to wake up, but he did not let me go, trying to show me something in a kind of dream. Obviously, I did not understand anything, I was only scared to death. I screamed in a desperate attempt, and it helped me to wake up. I returned to reality.

The shock of the dream vision that I’ve seen made me restless for a long time. Even when I was sitting at the kitchen table and smoking the second cigarette in a row, my fingers holding it were trembling convulsively.

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