A second chance

      Since that night I have been dreaming these strange dreams. Ildhar was different in each of them, but like me. In the first we were wounded, in worn clothes, dying in the mud; in the second — we happily escaped to the city to be secluded; in the third dream I, in an unusually modest but beautiful ceremony, madeLike knights, handing out strange sword shapes and becoming a dragon. Ildhary looked at me with such pride that there was no thought in the head and the body moved automatically. In the fourth dream, Ildhur was not there, but I, under the gaze of a lonely moon with a starry sky, read her letter, moistened on the cold ground near a small fire. It was so… real that I felt like I wasn’t sleeping at all, and I was watching the show myself, but the series didn’t go in a sequence. Or maybe I’m looking over the mirror, watching who I could be in another world. And every time I wake up, it takes me five minutes or ten minutes to wake up and go back to the real world, but when I get away from it for one moment, I return to a place where the light of three bright, hot suns replaced my familiar stranger’s smile. So passed a month.       Did I say that I love my job? Well, I do. I may be a boss, but I like to work. I like to stand behind the counter and talk to customers while hands themselves, on the machine (worked since fifteen years), order. I even like to feel the look of disparagement on me. What, a slim girl with tight ass (although it is not visible, but people have fantasy), quite not zero breasts, face with minimal makeup and aristocratic-vampire features. Who hasn’t looked at the barista. Lunch time is over and the cafe is almost empty. In the corner sat a student — regular customer, who found my establishment ideal place for performing the given abstracts and reports, near the wide window occupied an old couple table, talking about something nice, and a minute ago came out a pretty girl in too short skirt, As if the world were offended. I always enjoyed watching the clients. Irritated, sad, cheerful, hurried, repudiated… People are always different, and I have always been interested in children. I am a bystander and listener, who can always be told what is wrong and maybe even be ready to advise something, to cheer up. That’s what I like about my work. Not without unpleasant moments, of course, but pleasant ones overshadow them. The bell rang out of my thoughts, and in a few moments before me stood a tall brunette in a blue business suit. — Max, I smiled at the man and turned to the coffee machine knowing exactly what he would order. — How long have you been out? — Hi, Connor — still the same low, cheerful, hypnotic voice said hello to Max. — On vacation was, lazy on the beaches of Turkey, studied chic Yakutsk. — Russia is the second country, as always. I turned to a man holding an aromatic drink and reminiscing about his past stories.       - No, well, what? — Max was angry, but he smiled and thought it was time to take a sip of coffee. Max is my regular client, he’s the first. We’ve been friends since high school. In parallel and always competing classes, we were often compared to Romeo and Juliet until Max joked that he was not Juliet because I too was a noble, beautiful soul. It was in school that we got into psychology, but we went different ways. Max became a well-known psychologist in the city, sometimes a conniving price for his services, and I opened my own cafe. Well, as she discovered, the previous owner of this establishment died and left it to his favorite employee, knowing that the son will sell the fucking cafe. Along with the repair and breath of new life in this piece of heaven, I had to fight off the lawyers of a cocky spoiled son, but the trial was fair, and after an attempt at intimidation the heir went to the trauma room and got away from me. — Hey, Max, do you do house favors? — I got a kick out of my head and I went straight to the quarry. — Well, in this case, the workplace. — Are you crazy? — The man laughed, and I wanted to hit him. — Not yet, but I am tending to it with incredible determination, I said, driving the image of Ildhur away into the blackout of consciousness. Can I have a moment? Max nodded and headed for the corner table, out of sight. I called Nate in a gesture and followed him. — Well, let’s do it — said Max, rubbing his hands, as soon as I sit down and look me in the eye — say something. -Should I talk to a psychologist or a friend? — Friend, Max nodded and smirked, the psychologist is still on vacation, but maybe he’ll find a place for you in his schedule and wallet. — Goat, I grinned and gave him a slouch with my long-standing gesture.       - I know. — Max rubbed his forehead, looking at me like I hit him with a bat. — Thanks to you, by the way. We’ll go back to our barn. I closed my mouth, not knowing where to start, and looked around the room every fifth time trying to get rid of the image before returning my attention to the other person. — It’s all about dreams… I said, leaning back on the chair. — You know me. I never remembered my dreams if I dreamt anything. I never remember dreams. Never, but a month ago I started… I remember every dream in the smallest detail, to the number of weeds under my feet, and that… more like a memory or a series with me, but the timeline is broken. — What’s the bright side? Max asked, chin-swinging and burning me with a waiting look. I’m not in a hurry to answer. The brightest in all dreams is Ildhar, and no landscape can compare with it. Although the scenery in my dreams are really magical. The three suns were as if united in a single body on an unusually large sky, and with each hour they formed into new figures; the flowers had unusual shapes and colours; the cities, villages, forests… but none of that mattered when she was next to me — Sunny Girl. Today I dreamt of a fight: bloody, cruel, as if it had been going on for several days. I remember the blood flowing from my sword, the sound of air being cut, the sound of flesh being pierced, the sound of bodies falling, of men who fought me, but who were not like men. But I also remember her. When I think about it, I see only her image, hear only her voice. — The girl, I said confidently, still seeing the image of Ildhar before my eyes. — Beautiful girl. I see her in almost every dream, and even when I wake up, I… still feel her touch. — Try to compare the world of your dreams with ours. What associations? — Well… — I was wondering what the world of my dreams looked like. — That world has something in common with Seth       — Well… I was wondering what the world of my dreams looked like. — That world has something in common with “Hundred”, a little medieval, there is something primitive and at the same time modern, a little from the Vikings, ancient Greeks, paganism mixed with Buddhism and Christianity, fairy tales mixed into one single Some games have similar locations. — Is that girl? I was already buzzing, thinking too much about the not-so-important question, so Max quickly changed the subject. — What’s her name? he asked. — What does she look like? Can you control your sleep? — To control? No, I thought again, going into myself. — I am like watching everything from the first person, but not more, and a girl named Ildhar. She… Beautiful. Remember in grade 9, I described the perfect girl to you? Well, she’s even more perfect. I’ve never seen one. In every dream she is different, pale and tired, cheerful and tanned, but her face almost always shines a smile, so bright that it seems to obscured the sun itself. Max frowned and looked down. I can call him my best friend. He and Elsa know everything about me, and I know everything about them. I even guessed they were meeting when they hid it better than Slytherin hid the Secret Room. And now I can say with complete certainty that Max is trying to remember something, but I don’t give it any importance. — I think… it’s okay, — thought Max for a minute, but his voice made me tense. — You said you remember every dream in detail? Keep a diary and describe each dream, starting with the first one. And something else. What’s your name?       - Sandrof? I replied, with my eyes fixed on the extraordinarily serious face of my friend. — You’re not seeing her in your dreams, are you? For the first time, I can’t see what Max is thinking. His face is so focused, thoughtful and yet detached. I could only nod. Max immediately stood up and scratched his back. — Well, I have to go, and you get the diary and pass it on. I only opened my mouth to ask the question, but Max had already disappeared from view, and only the ringing of a bell indicated that the man was in the establishment. — What demon? I didn’t hold back, but seeing new clients, I hurried back to the bar. But Max decided to follow the advice, wondering that she had not thought of it herself.

*******

      Work, work, work… These thoughts have filled my head for the past two hours. Today there was a lot of people, which made me happy, although it seems that only I was happy. Nate and Kate didn’t have time to sit down, I was standing at the coffee machine and even Elsa had to take orders, maneuvering gracefully from table to table, which she wasn’t… One and a half years, somewhere. The work was boiling, profits were increasing, the strength was running out, no memories of dreams came, because I never, damn. I did make a diary a couple of days ago. Two diaries. In one I wrote down the dreams briefly and sent them to Max, and in the other I was drawing everything in detail, even somehow trying to put them together into something with a straight chronology, but quickly abandoned this idea. It was a waste of time and I felt better, but not much. I was no longer haunted by breathtaking landscapes, echoes of battle, but every time, just closing my eyes, I see Her. Today I dreamed of a forest. Centuries-old trees, the smallest of which is under fifteen meters, unprecedented plants, flowers of unimaginable palette of colors. And in all this splendor stood a little house, covered with blue moss and reflecting all around flowers. This place was like Paradise, and Ildhary was like an angel. She was dressed in a delicate blue-colored strange, folk costume (how do I know it’s folk?), the material of which reflected from itself the rays of the sun, on her belt hung a sparkling white sword giving the girl votivity but not frightening; and completed the whole pictureRed hair, a fiery waterfall falling on her bare shoulders. For a moment, I thought that the virgin-white angel wings were spreading behind her.       If I had been haunted by the image of Ildhar from my second dream, now it is forgotten, having given place to an angel dancing a celestial dance and quietly humming some soothing melody in a language I do not understand. I still hear her voice and don’t know how I get my job. My mind is far away, my eyes are empty, and only the automaticity of the movement in my youth prevents me from crashing or tipping something. From my thoughts I only pluck a pleasant female voice. — One latte to go, please — asked politely the visitor. And I woke up instantly, just dying. Did I? That voice… I raised my head and held myself back to keep my jaw on the floor. Fire-red hair, braided in a messy pigtail, uncurled strands, saving on the face burned, puffy lips. — Ildhar?! The girl raises her head, and I seem to soar into the heavens from the giddy eyes of her. We are silent. I’m surprised, she is brooding. We are silent, staring at each other’s faces. — No way! It goes through my head before I hear that charming voice again, and it’s already there. -We haven’t met before?