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They say that flap of a wing of a butterfly can result in an earthquake on the other side of the world. What if I tear off her wings? Completely. And then spear it to the wall and fry? Will the whole universe around me be obliterated? Or will this change only a life of an insignificant worm?


Perspective: Dmitry Kiperov


There is water everywhere, but it’s warm and relatively cozy. A bit shaky, but nothing major. Suddenly I am being pushed somewhere down, where I see a light. I try to resist the force pushing me, since I don’t want to leave this cozy place, but I am too weak to do so. Wave of air, water and blood forces me out into the world. Some woman takes me, and I scream, which feels normal, since I do not know her, have no idea what she can do to me. She can do anything! I am weak and can’t stand up for myself. Another woman, dressed in white as first one, comes up with a towel and wipes off the blood from me. I hear moaning and soon see the third woman, whom it belongs to. I am being brought to her, but I do not want to be, because she is…

I am sitting behind a small table with Maxim across and Nikita to the left of me. Seat to the right is empty.

- Dima! Time for you to go home! – This is the babysitter, an old woman with annoying trembling voice.

My mom enters and calls me, but I do not want to go to her, because she is…

September. First day of school, new people, new life. I’m growing up. Today is short introductory day, so pretty soon it’s time to go home. I live near school, but my mom still comes after me. She calls me back home, but I refuse to, again, because she is…


All of them are dead. Dad, mom, grandma, dog. Smell of burned flesh and fur in the air. A car crash. Only me as survivor…

It’s year 2002. Silver-grayish Reno Clio Symbol is running along an empty night. Its passengers left countryside about half an hour ago and are on the way home, to apartment in Moscow. Dad is driving. He had a hard day fixing the roof of our bathhouse. To the right from him sits my mom with shar-pei Chance in her legs. On the backseat – me and grandma. As usually I’m listening to music occasionally glancing over the road. As it often happens my eyes stick to the door handle, which is calling me to pull it, to open the door, to let the wind in and myself out. To… Free myself.

This time the calling is too strong, I can’t stop it. I pull the handle and then physics do their dirty work: I roll out of the car, on the asphalt, blinded by the light from the car, cutting up the night. Some old and unsightly car, which was running on the other lane, tries to avoid hitting me, turns, burning the tires right on the lane Reno was occupying. Dad turns the wheel to the max on pure reflexes and left side of the car gets crushed. For no apparent reason – BOOOOOOM!

Did that car have some inflammables or something on board? Either way the night bursts into flames, consuming what costed over eight thousand bucks back in the day. And then another thunder welcomes the burning metal. As if in some old movie rain starts pouring down, as if God mourns his children. I’m half sitting, half lying on the asphalt, which becomes wet in mere seconds.

I get up and walk up to the car. Dad is lying on the wheel, blood running from his temple, fire eating the collar of his shirt, melting his face. Mom and grandma seems to be out of it and not even realizing, that fire is eating away their flesh. Chance is unfortunate: he did not lose consciousness and thus wails as fire demolishes his fur.

I am looking at my mom’s face getting black from the fire, showing the white of the skull in some places, even, and tears are flowing down my cheeks. Tears of fear, anger, and devastation. It’s not something you easily forget. It’s not just some file on computer that you erase with a hit of one button.

I wake up. Even though it was 3 years ago, and I am 16 now, I smell the burned flesh as if something was burning in the apartment right now. It’s as if the lucid dream brought me back in time, and then returned to the current one with the smell stuck to my hair. I lay in my bed, silent, immobile, staring at the wall, as if it has answers to why the hell I feel so empty.

Finally, I raise my head above the pillow, almost dropping it back as the pulsating pain hits it. As usual with my lucid dreams I feel heavy and aching all over after I wake up. I manage to stand up, though. Well, I manage to sit first. For a couple of minutes, burying my head in hands, as if that could help. I go to the bathroom, where I pee barely able to stand on my own two feet, brush my teeth and then go to kitchen. I heat up some pancakes with ham ’n’ cheese filling and drink a cocktail of green tea and some painkillers and weak sedatives. Painkillers for the head and sedatives… Well, also for the head, but for different reasons.

These lucid dreams have been happening more frequently lately, keeping me awake at nights. ‘Cause of sleep deprivation I feel very agitated and generally on edge all the time. Sedatives help me keep it under control at least to some extent. At least, I think they are.

In 9th and 10th grade it’s customary to participate in "practical lessons" in Russian schools. Those are not actually lessons, though: pupils are exploited in legitimate way to pay for "free education" – cleaning, heavy lifting, setting up different devices, more cleaning, and even more heavy lifting. And sometimes finishing food left over since exams and "Last Ring". I’m against this "tradition", but who cares, what the young ones think, right? So, yeah, need to get my ass to school and stretch my muscles for the free education. Not like I have that many muscles though, let alone education…

This time I and Artyom Hodor from the parallel class are sent to move the desks and chairs, from the hall on second floor, where exams took place the day before. There are like 40 desks for one person and 5 desks for 2 persons. Somehow the smaller desks are even heavier than big ones. Artyom and I are moving these desks to the third floor one by one, taking occasional breaks and discussing Lineage II, an online game, which is quite popular nowadays.

- I’m telling you: bladedancer is total shit, - Artyom says

- How is that?

- He’s too weak! Even an archer can beat him!

- Come on, cast some cubes, a few buffs and go! Best tank ever!

- Best tanks are barbarians and paladins.

- No way. Next you say that light elves are best supports!

- Better than your oracles.

- Hey! I leveled up 3 oracles – they are awesome!

With each phrase we were getting closer to each other, feeling more and more excited. We were on the stage of game addiction, where you can even kill for a game. In fact, it could be possible, that our argument would have ended in a serious fight, but a small desk rose between us. In the heat of the argument, I take the desk and throw it in direction of the windows. Desk felt lighter than a feather just now. If I would have thrown her just with a bit more force, I could have broken some windows. Artyom looks at the desk, then at me:

- Dim, you’re all right?

I am shocked as if struck by lightning. I’m feeling the pulse in my fingertips even. I feel every beat of my own heart, how it pumps the blood through my body. I feel like my lungs are moving supplying my cells with air. As if every cell is screaming about what it is doing, and they all scream at once. But it’s not only my body I am hearing: I hear so much more!

I hear Artyom wondering, why I’m so nervous, but his lips are not moving. I hear some pupil asking teacher of German to give another chance with exam. I hear that teacher giving that chance. I hear another teacher talking to a concerned parent about a child, who does not seem to want to study at all. I hear some upperclassmen boasting, how he was picking up a hot girl a few days before, but she actually slapped him and told him to fuck off… And it was just a portion that I am understanding in this noise. Have I lost it completely? Am I hearing voices now?

The heightened perception makes my head feel heavier than ever. I rub the bridge of my nose, but, obviously, it does not help at all.

- Dim? Are you ok? – I hear Artyom not so much with my ears, but more like through this new perception I suddenly got. I look at him: he seems really worried. – Dim?

- Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine. Just… Had a dizzy spell or something.

- Well, if you’re feeling sick, go home – I’ll cover for you.

- I would not mind that, honestly.

- Sure thing. Go, I’ll finish it up here.

It is just a few minutes to home, but the road seems eternal with all these voices… Some guy yelling at his dog, a wife pestering her drunk husband, children playing football, a girl thinking I’m cute…

Wait, what?

That last "thought" or whatever is like a cold shower bringing me back to normal for a short time, bringing me back to reality. I am just halfway to home. A girl in tight slim body jeans, covering her nice legs, green top with no sleeves, hugging her breasts so tight you could almost see the perky nipples. Long dark-blond hair is made into pigtails falling down her shoulders. She walks by and I turn around wanting to cry out for her, but no one is there. As if a mirage or a hallucination, which won’t surprise me, considering the voices are back again.

Somehow, I manage to reach my apartment and then my bed and I die as soon as I hit the pillow.

Apparently, I did not die, but just fell asleep, because at some point, I have just woken up. No voices in my head, which now feels as empty as ever, but I feel like I’m on fire. Not like I have temperature or something, but as if I have too much energy. I try some push-ups, even though I do not workout at all – they do not help. I feel my muscles literally aching for some action, for some strange release. Also, extremely thirsty – whole teapot of water gone within a minute, and still not enough. But surprisingly, it feels… Good. Do not know how to explain it even. Just "good".

My body feels same, but yet different. It’s like that heightened perception I had at school hours before somehow calmed down but did not leave completely. It’s like I feel the control I have over every part of my body. It feels amazing. I feel powerful. I want… I want to move. A walk maybe? It’s eight in the evening and I feel so refreshed after this unexpected nap… Why the hell not?

I go for the park nearby, where I walk and walk and walk, but it’s not enough: my ankles leaden with desire to run. So, I start running and it feels amazing! I do not feel the weight of my body, I barely feel how my feet touch the ground… Wait… Are they touching it? I think they are touching it… Not sure. People are staggered by me, ‘cause they are not used to runners in Russia, let alone such happy runners: I am smiling like a crazy person. I feel like choking on my laugh, trying to tear its way through my throat. And dodging the people on my path is so… Exuberating! It’s like slow-mo and some acceleration mode activated at the same time. I feel so fluid.

I start running among the trees to up the challenge of dodging stuff. At some point a thick oak appears on my way. I understand that I can’t dodge the whole of it in time, considering how fast I am running now, but… I’m not actually trying. It’s as if I’ve lost control, like a train, that ran off its rails. I am running straight into the tree… Except I am running up its frigging trunk! Like a frigging Spider-man or whatever other comic super-hero! A few meters from the ground I jump off into a somersault and land right on my own two feet.

Surprisingly I do not feel my heart racing or anything. My breath is calm and collected and… Powerful? Can a breath be powerful? It’s not heavy, but it’s like I’m using my lungs’ full capacity with each breath in and each breath out. I burst out laughing and I laugh so hard my eyes begin to tear a little. I feel so elevated. Like there is nothing that can stop me. I may be going mental here but fuck if I care – it feels awesome! I wipe away the laughing tears and my gaze falls on the oak again. Oh God… I have such a crazy idea now…

It takes me a few extra minutes of running and freaking people out, but I arrive near a set of round(-ish) skyscrapers. I find a place where there are fewer lights, ‘cause what I am going to try to do is a bit crazy. Well, crazier, than all that running. I mean, I did just run a few meters up the tree trunk and jumped off of it, landing on my both feet. Worst case scenario, I’ll do the same with the building. Nothing special, right?

I take a few steps back from the skyscraper wall and run towards it. When near the wall, I do not stop, but instead, put one foot on the wall, put pressure on it... And start running up the wall. 3 meters, 10 meters, 20 meters… 100 meters… With increase of gravity’s pressure my legs increase the power output. With each drop in temperature my body gets just a bit hotter to counteract it. It’s like I am defying the physics around me, all in order to finish the crazy climb.

200 meters and I’m at the roof. I laugh like crazy, because… Fuck, this is all crazy! Why not laugh like crazy then? But I calm myself down and just stand there for a moment feeling the wind… This is all just a dream, right? I mean, in what kind of reality would I be able to run up a frigging skyscraper? What is it? 50 stores? Just a messed-up dream. Another lucid one, I will wake up and everything will be just as usual. But for now…

- Oh… Do I have another crazy one...?

I walk up to the edge of the roof and look down.

- Not like anyone would care even if I do die, right?

As if answering me a nearby crow croaks. I look at it and say:

- Nah… You do not care, too. Won’t miss me, either.

And then I burst out laughing:

- I fucking lost it, man… I’m not even talking to myself, but to a frigging crow. Ah… To hell with it.

And I step over. In mere 6 seconds or so I… Nah… Let’s be honest, I did not do zit. I barely had time to think anything. Not like this is a movie or cartoon, where such a fall takes several minutes, during which you can marry and then divorce. But, oh shit, these were best 6 seconds of my life! Everything – a blur. Wind blasting against my body, as if trying to hold me, but failing, ‘cause gravity is a bitch. And then, and then…

I fucking landed on my feet! Like, what the holy fucking fuck! My body did a somersault and stuff completely on its own. And I broke the asphalt! Like made a whole in it! How cool is that. Best. Dream. Ever! Oh… Wait… If I’m so cool right now… Maybe I can get myself a hot chick for the rest of the night? That would be even more awesome! Now, I need to find a club. Dreams do have clubs, right?

This one should fit: "Burning Tower". Corny name, but whatevs. It is a club, and all clubs have chicks. Unless it’s a gay club. And even then, there are chicks there. And I think I heard of this one before… Was it not a strip-club when it first started, but then they decided to shut the "strip" part down ‘cause of some legal issues? Whatever… Chicks. Hot chicks. But need to be cool. Not "jump from 200 meters and survive" cool, but the "calm" cool. Ok, ok… I’m cool. I’m super cool. Choking on mad scientist laugh, but cool. Ok. Go.

I enter the club and right from the start I bump into guards. Or face-control. Either way they ask me for a passport. Yeah, like I take my passport when I go for late run… Besides I am 16, so… There’s that. But I can try to get in. If it’s a dream – who cares? I can always try to start a brawl and win it and then all the chicks in the club – mine! So, I pretend to be searching for my passport in my pants… What the fuck? I have passport with me? But I do not remember taking it with me… Meh, as long as it helps me, which it won’t.

What the fuck of the fucks? They are letting me in? Is there something special with my passport? I look into it and it says I was born in 1987 instead of 1989. I definitely never forged a passport or any document in my life. Oh, wait... This is a dream, right? Maybe in this dream I’m older? Hm… Why not? As long as I can get some chicks.

And there are not that many good ones… Wait, I see a pretty foxy one. Our eyes meet briefly, as she turns away fast, but I manage to notice shaky lips. Wait a minute… Is it the girl I hallucinated earlier? Damn… I really need to get laid if my imagination is building up such good women. Well, game on, baby, game on.

So, your name is Besputha. Strange name, but as long as you are as open-minded as the name suggests, I do not care. And this cocktail won’t be the only passionate drink for you tonight, babe. No, it won’t. But the way you look at me… Did you like fall in love with me or something? I do need to get laid, stat, if my hallucinations are falling in love with me now.

What’s this buzzing? Is it this cocktail that’s buzzing? Woah… My vision literally splits. I see Besputha’s pretty face and… Some dickhead in mouse-gray suit and wine-red prick of a face smashing a bottle and throwing it at me. Hey! This dream is supposed to have only one crazy person, not two! And why the hell this bottle is so slow? Aren’t thrown things supposed to move a bit faster? I can easily dodge it…Oops… Sorry, barman, whatever your name is, that’s my bad. You better show this bottle-face to a doctor or something – it does not look too good. And you’re also moving a bit too slow in your gracious bottle touching or whatever you folks call it.

But no time to chat with barmen, we have a dickhead incoming, guys. Guys? Why plural? Don’t care. Not now. My spider-sense is tingling, and I prefer to react to that first. What whore? This dickhead is a whore? Well, whatever gets you knickers going, but I do not swing that way, man. Hey! You just broke the cocktail, I ordered for the pretty lady! You are paying for this. No… You better stay down. Really? Punching this slow? I do not even need to dodge this, but, ok, I’ll dance a bit.

I pull the dickhead (I mean the guy, not my dickhead – I hope it will be pulled by Besputha later, like, hard), put one hand on his waist, the other – on the chest, push both spots at the same time, lifting him off the ground and put him on the bar table. I then jump on top of him (no, not in that way) and punch straight in the nose. ‘Cause I always wanted to do something like this. Why not do this in this particular dream? I sweep his blood from my fist, thinking, that I should not lose the momentum here, so time to clean-up.

I find the dickhead’s wallet (no, not my dickhead’s wallet – this one should be emptied soon by Besputha, I hope) and throw to the barmen. And it seems like we are going to Besputha’s place, which is awesome, since my place is kinda of a mess. I mean, come on, 16-year-old living alone… Besides, quite a walk to my place from here and this fight just now made me hornier than I was before, so need not waste any more time here.

But since I am a virgin, it may be a good idea to slow down a bit now and start with a passionate, rather than aggressive kiss. I mean, dream or no dream, I’d prefer Besputha to be pleased with me, rather than me overdoing and ruining it. Besides, more practice before the same in the real world. Let’s go, into the world of sex, then! Thanks for the treat, brain!


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