Evald Flisar - My Father's Dreams

But she refused to listen. We left the wood behind and were crossing meadows and fields, with the village on the other side of the stream. I could just see Eve floating across the foot-bridge, looking back and gesturing to me to hurry up. Mother was right behind her, I could see her lifting the bicycle and carrying it across to the other side of the stream. Then she bent down and, with the strength I would never have thought she had in her, lifted the footbridge, which consisted of a single planed trunk of a pine tree, and tossed it into the stream, causing a splash. She straightened up and waited for me like a stern schoolteacher for a pupil who has to be punished for a grave misdemeanour.

I stopped on the bank of the stream. I realised that only half a mile further up was the dam on which everything had begun. And it suddenly struck me that it could all have been so different. If it had been raining that afternoon, or Eve had not come to sunbathe, or Father had not discovered us on the dam, my dreams might never have started. And if they hadn’t, would I now be standing where I was? Would anything that was behind me have happened at all? Most probably my life and my future would have turned out completely different. But I could also feel that backtracking was impossible, and that there are moments in life when by a single, seemingly insignificant move or decision one’s destiny is sealed, determining one’s actions for years to come.

So it seemed useless to resist the urge that drove me on. The stream was not very deep, I could wade or even swim across, but the water must have been freezing cold. From the other side Mother hissed towards me not to attempt to cross, because she would have no choice but to drown me. A strange emotion suddenly rose from the depths of my being, something that had been lying there for a long time. I did not care any more what I did, as long as I got past Mother to reach what belonged to me, more than to anyone in the world.

I jumped into the stream and waded across. The icy water sank its teeth into my skin like a ravenous wolf. But I ignored the cold, sudden hatred had given me back all my strength. As I tried to climb out onto the opposite bank, Mother kept slapping my fingers with the hard heels of her slippers, hitting me on the head with her hands, and pushing me back into the freezing water. All my attempts to crawl out ended in failure. The cold and the effort soon made me dizzy.

In a moment of despair, when I no longer knew what I was doing, I fetched a sharp stone from the bottom of the stream and tossed it at Mother’s head with all the force I could muster. The stone hit her in the forehead and made her collapse with a cry of shock. Her inattention gave me just enough time to climb out of the water and hurry on after Eve, who was waiting for me on the outskirts of the village. Afraid that I would lose her, I ran as fast as I could, waving my arms and shouting, “Wait, wait.”

The creaking of the axle soon told me that Mother had recovered and was right behind me. It wasn’t long before she streaked past me, bent over the handlebars, with her jaw grimly jutting out before her, legs pumping furiously. Soon she was far ahead, disappearing among the houses, closely on the heels of Eve. Expecting the worst, I ran even faster and did not stop until I reached the village chapel, where I had to decide whether to continue up the road, which was one way to Grandpa Dominic’s house, or across the cemetery and down the slope, which was another, shorter way.

I had no doubt that Eve, especially with Mother in hot pursuit, would have chosen the shortcut. I ran up a small incline to the cemetery. Sure enough, the first thing I noticed was the bicycle which Mother had leant against the wall of the chapel. The small wooden gate which led to the cemetery was open. I ran through it, and down among the graves. Mother was waiting for me. She was standing in the middle of the path which was cutting the cemetery in two. In the moonlight I could clearly see that she was tightly gripping the crossbar of a wooden cross. She must have wrenched it off a cross on one of the graves. Behind her, lower down, I saw Eve, who was still frantically gesturing me to follow her.

I was completely exhausted. All I was really aware of was my desire to reach her at any cost. I was prepared to remove or destroy anything standing in my way. First I tried to sneak past Mother, believing that she would not try to hurt me. But she raised the crossbar and hit me on the back so hard that I fell to my knees. When I managed to rise, she was standing before me as impervious as before, with her feet apart, immovable as a column of stone.

“Help!” I shouted. “Father, help me!”

But the sound remained locked inside me; not a word came out of my mouth.

“Mother?” I tried. “Mother, let me pass, please.”

This time, too, there was no sound; as if my words had sunk to my stomach or through my veins into the ground below. Suddenly the earth all around trembled and moved. A crowd of snowy-white skeletons rose from the graves and made a circle around us. As they moved, their bones clattered like loose roof tiles in a strong wind. Although they were eyeless, they seemed to be watching us. One stepped out of the group and moved toward me. On the way he bent down, detached his shinbone and pressed it into my hand. His jaw bones moved as if he wanted to give me an encouraging smile.

I gripped the unexpected weapon with both hands. Mother and I attacked each other. The struggle was very short. I hit her over the head; the blow was so powerful that she limply sank to the ground. I kept hitting her with the bone until I broke her skull, disfigured her face and lacerated her limbs. Even when she was already dead I could not stop bringing the bone down on her lifeless body. In the end I threw the blood-spattered weapon among the graves and breathed a sigh of relief. The skeletons clattered; it seemed that they were applauding. The one that lent me his shinbone, now picked it up and slotted it back in place. Before rejoining the group, he patted me on the shoulder. I made a step forward and the crowd parted to let me pass. Victorious and free, I walked down the path towards Eve who was waiting for me at the bottom of the cemetery. She was standing there naked, no longer wrapped in her blanket.

I reached out to touch her hand, but as I did so I realised that I was holding the bony hand of a skeleton, which gave off a sickening smell of decay. Its jaws were set at an angle which reminded me of derisive laughter. Then I heard a clattering sound of derision behind me; as I turned I saw the crowd of skeletons slowly moving towards me. I sank to the ground and was rescued by darkness.

When I opened my eyes it was early morning; a grey, misty light was spread over the hills. My first thought was that I had never had such a vivid dream; I could remember every detail. The only unusual thing was that I did not wake up at home in my bed, but in the cemetery, in my pyjamas, lying on the wet grass among the graves. Candles still flickered on some of them, and the chrysanthemums placed in stone vases the day before still gave off their saintly smell. I felt cold and started to shiver. I noticed strange filth stuck to my sleeves and trouser legs, a mixture of mud, soil and blood. This was indeed the most unusual dream; never before had it happened that I would be carried like a moonwalker to the location of my dream. I ran home across the fields and through the wood, to avoid early risers.

Some time later Father found me in the bathroom, where I was trying to brush traces of what looked like blood off the tips of my fingers. I had no idea how blood could have appeared on my fingers, having only got hurt in a dream, probably while I was trying to climb out of the stream and Mother kept hitting me with her slippers. Everything that had happened in my dream after that point, had already vanished in a blur that meant nothing at all.