A TRAP for a THOUGHT-FORM
a novel in the series
"PLAYING ANOTHER REALITY"
Chapter 33. HYMN to MOSQUITO
“Today we have a presentation of the book ‘The Hymn to Mosquito’. Funny title for a poetry collection! Is the author Mosquito or one more God?” the Guardian asked as he greeted me at the door of the Mansion.
“Does one exclude the other?”
“Didn’t you accidentally cast a spell on the Blizzard?” the Guardian suddenly changed the subject, sending my furs to the hanger. “Did Alice end up falling in love with spring?”
“Do you mean warming? However, minus 15 degrees Celsius isn’t critical for your Blizzard,” I stated, heading to the cafe. “Besides, it’s not me.”
The Guardian stopped and invited me by a meaningful glance into the fireplace room. As soon as we were inside, he locked the door.
“Who?” the Guardian asked, and I felt the pre-storm tension in the atmosphere.
“You mean… who is casting spells on the Blizzard?”
“Yes, exactly,” he nodded, moving closer to me, but I stepped to the window.
“The Wanderer,” I confessed.
“What else the Wanderer?” the Guardian approached me, standing by the window. “Where did he come from?”
“A shaman, why? And why do you suddenly care so much about the Blizzard?”
For some reason, my words made the Guardian angry. Clenching his fingers, he pounded his fist on the windowsill.
“Where there is no Blizzard, lives… your Death!” he said gloomily, glancing at the fireplace, which was the main Portal of the Mansion. The madness appeared in his eyes again, he hugged me and whispered, breathing fast and hard, stroking my hair, “You mustn’t die! You shouldn’t leave here! No one will love you like I do… How many years? Do you know for how many years I’ve been loving you? How long had I been waiting for your return? I will never let you go! Do you hear me? Never again!!! Not to anyone, never… never…”
The Guardian was clearly crazy. I tried to formulate something reasonable, but nothing came to my mind. And at that moment a lifesaving sound came from the fireplace…
“MEOW?!”
***
The Mosquitoes God outwardly looked appetizing, like cheese in a mousetrap, therefore, despite the prolonged buzzing, the guests were already praying to him with might and main. And I thought, “Every deity, regardless of its level, finds own parish!”
“It’s getting warmer today, congratulations, Alice!” Roman greeted me.
“That was the Wanderer!”
“Don’t underestimate your merits! Rather, it’s the result of your work with the Matrix.”
“It’s not enough for the ice to move. However, the Guardian again tried to convince me that my Death was hiding somewhere behind the Blizzard.”
I announced the break, made coffee and sat down next to Roman.
“Why was it so important to you that you choose the Ball dress yourself?” asked Roman, stirring the sugar in his cup.
“If the Guardian buys me the dress chosen by me in the store the Guardian has not ever been to, can we consider us not ghosts?”
“If we are ghosts, then no matter what dress he buys for you, you’ll see the one you’ve chosen. In the World of Ghosts, everyone sees what…”
“Oh, the same rule again! And only 7 evenings left before the Ball! I’m walking in a circle, and I don’t understand how to get out of it!”
Roman hugged me, and I leaned against his shoulder.
“And yet, Alice, you are on the right track! Today it’s minus 15 degrees Celsius, yesterday it was minus 20, and it had been even minus 27 before.”
“Why is Death there, Roman? When the Guardian has a glitch in his Consciousness, he says that he loves me and will never let me go to Death. He really believes what he says. Does the fireplace Portal make the transition only to the World of the Dead? After all, theoretically, the Portal should transfer you to wherever you want. If I am alive and don’t want to leave for the World of the Dead, that is, I don’t want to go through the death of my physical body in the Portal, then, passing through the Portal, I will enter the Transit Zone first, and then leave it for the World, which I’m creating here and now. So, I won’t disappear inside the Portal, but, most likely, I’ll end up in the same Mansion, in a slightly different variant of the Reality. Right?”
“Let’s suppose so. I’m not the Magician yet,” Roman nodded.
“Besides, if I’m alive, as well as Earth, sooner or later the Blizzard will be over, and spring will come. However, according to the Guardian, the Blizzard will never end… probably. How is that? First, he says the Blizzard will help us survive Death as if we were already dead. Then he says where there is no Blizzard, Death is still waiting for me… One out of two: either the Guardian has really lost his mind, or he knows something I don’t. For example, that we are ghosts. But if we are ghosts, why should we be afraid of Death?”
“It’s logical,” Roman sighed, but it seemed to me that my thoughts didn’t interest him at all.
“I want once again, but without the Wanderer, to get here at night. Or rather, not here, in the Backstage. At least to read the Guardian’s diary.”
“Be careful, Alice. Take care of yourself!” Roman kissed the top of my head.
The Guardian rang the bell.
“No fears again?” Roman smiled out loud.
“Today we have ‘The Hymn to Mosquito’!”
Task No. 33. PRAISE ME!
…The Magician knows that every being in the Universe, both animate and inanimate, has something to be praised for. At least for the fact that it serves the Creator, performing its secret or explicit mission during its current incarnation/presence in the Universe.
As a rule, it’s easier to notice the flaws in other creatures, which in most cases are only some differences from what is acceptable to you in your subjective world, or the personal reality in the system of coordinates set by yourself.
Magicians remember that every creature is unique, and to be unique means to be non-standard, so magicians allow others to be themselves. The task is to reveal in each being, sent to you on the Path, something it can be praised for. By default, we are not talking about flattery, but about worthy of a sincere feeling – admiration, gratitude, respect, love…
Every day, praise at least one creature you met on the Path, and every evening, remembering the day you lived, find at least one reason to praise yourself, as well as something for which you will thank the Creator…
***
I drifted off to sleep, moved into the Dungeon and, after waiting for the Guardian to retire to the Doll’s room, entered his own.
On the table — yes! — there was the same Diary notebook.
Thank God it turned out to be open!
However, the spread was practically empty. At the left top, like the previous time, the current date was indicated, but there were no phrases below, just one word, “Wanderer?!”