A TRAP for a THOUGHT-FORM
a novel in the series
"PLAYING ANOTHER REALITY"
Chapter 40. The BALL
I arrived at the Ball in advance to calmly change into the Queen’s dress and drink coffee.
The Guardian, as usual, met me at the door. I handed him the bags of “The Girl and the Moon Cat” painting series.
“I’ll make coffee, your dress is in the dressing room, and come back right away, we’ll meet the guests together,” the Guardian said quickly, obviously nervous, and took my paintings without even commenting on them.
“The Girl and the Cat,” I said, pointing at the bags with my gaze.
“Yes, I got it. Both the Cat and the Girl. They clearly lacked the Guardian! And the Cat with me lacked the Girl!” the Guardian grinned.
I sailed into the Dungeon…
On the stage of the Theatre, with a muffled and inexplicably pouring light, I found the scenery in the form of various frames of different sizes, raised to the very ceiling. Someone (probably the Guardian himself) had already inserted pictures into them, but I couldn’t see which ones, quite possible, the reproductions of my “The Girl and the Cat” collection. I stopped and decided to count them.
“…Damn, 44!…”
I turned right into the Backstage.
Both doors to the secret rooms were tightly locked. I went into the dressing room. My dress was placed separately on a hanger by the mirror, ironed, without a single wrinkle.
I changed the clothes and couldn’t help but open the wardrobe…
Who would have doubt! — dresses. The very ones I had seen during my first secret visit to the Backstage. I counted them.
“…43! Damn!.. However, Wizard’s word, Guardian, you won’t see the 45th dress on me! In numerology 4 means ‘Death’, but 44 is 4 plus 4, or 8, and this is already a sign of infinity, that for me personally means ‘Love’…”
I let out a heavy sigh and pulled out the key to the fireplace room from my bag. The day before the Guardian hadn’t bothered about its absence. Hanging the key on a chain like a cross, I headed for the cafe to enjoy a cup of the so familiar potion before the party began.
“You are gorgeous in that dress, honey!” the Guardian whispered as he handed me coffee.
“I’m gorgeous in any outfit and without,” I said coldly.
“I hope you’ll give me a chance to verify that,” the Guardian grinned and kissed my neck.
“Leave your vampire habits behind!”
“By the way, today at the Ball we are waiting for an unusual wine!”
“?!”
“Well, no, not blood, of course… But…”
“With some love spell?!” I was horrified and heard the first guests ringing the doorbell of the Mansion.
“You’ll like it!” the Guardian winked mysteriously.
...and we hurried to meet the guests…
***
One by one, the heroes of the previous 39 parties, as well as their relatives and friends, materialized out of the Blizzard. The guests appeared in costumes corresponding to their creative roles, the Guardian courted the guests in the hallway and guided them to the cafe for a welcome cocktail, while I smiled sweetly, trying not to think about my future.
When the main participants gathered, the Guardian and I moved to the cafe, where…
The Master of the swamp hellcats, together with the Waterman from Nowhere, in order to stay alone with the charming Kikimora and the Siren, were trying to pass the Mermaid to the Old Khottabych in the circle of Baba Yaga, who was lecturing on the advantages of her broom over the flying carpet to Koschey the Immortal, the House Goblin and the dog-like Puss in Boots. The Sinner was enlightening the Last Romantic. The Sorrowful Spirit, stuck between two Realities, was discussing his Other World prospects with the Ghost of the Legislator. The Honorable Milord, who possessed the secret of the Solomon’s Pentacle making, was convincing the Migrant that there was no sense in migrating anywhere. The Professor of the Undead with the Mystic Lady were curiously studying the newfound Gods, Non-local and the Mosquitoes, trying to identify their similarities and differences, but periodically casting glances at the Medusa Gorgon. The Satyr quoted himself to the Flower Fairy. The Forest Elf was composing fairy tales for the Dryad. The Rainbow Gnomes rejoiced at each other, amusing the Faun. The Killer was listening with genuine interest to the cautionary stories of the Iconographer who had already returned from the prison. The Werewolf in the uniform was consulting with the Lawyer from Rublyovka. The Zoo lover in the costume of a peacock was fluffing his tail in front of the Birds Syrinx and Phoenix. Aladdin was rubbing the local candlestick on the coffee table, hoping that it would turn into a magic lamp stolen by the Blizzard. The Troll was trolling everyone. Arachne lurked in a dark corner, watching the guests from the side and pondering whom to start with…
The King of Swords and the former Page of Cups approached me and bowed defiantly. I asked the King of Swords to step aside with me and said him in a whisper, “Distract the Guardian when I give you the sign!”
The King of Swords bowed again and barely kissed my hand as the Guardian announced to the guests that the Honorable Mister the Puss was ready to escort them into the Dungeon.
***
“Roman, please, show up! You’re not my imagination! You’re real! Please,” I kept mentally repeating my mantra on the way to the Dungeon.
“I won’t let you go anywhere tonight!” whispered the Guardian, taking me under his arm. “When everyone’s gone home, I promise you an unforgettable Backstage tour!”
***
Within the gothic-black walls of the mysterious Theatre, softened by the muffled and inexplicable light, the music began to play. I immediately recognized the very record to which we had danced with the Guardian in the fireplace room.
The Guardian theatrically invited me to the stage first and swirled in the dance. We were followed by the Satyr with the Flower Fairy, the Forest Elf with the Dryad, Milord with the Gorgon Medusa. I thought about Roman.
“In vain, Alice,” the Guardian whispered. “It’s all in vain. There are only you and me, our Cat and the Blizzard, and nothing else…”
***
Slow dances were replaced by jointly cheerful ones. I had to dance with each guest in turn, and with all of them together in the center of the stage. The King of Swords constantly flashed somewhere nearby, so as not to miss the conventional sign. Greatly stressed by Arachne, who was creeping closer and closer, I invited the Professor of the Undead to another slow dance.
“Do you really know everything about the Impure Ones?” I whispered, waltzing with him.
“And not only! About all kinds of out-of-body forms and the Other World’s phenomenon!”
“In your opinion, do I look like a ghost?”
For a moment the Professor paused, and I almost fell, but he immediately picked me up, and we continued the waltz.
“Ridiculous!” he smiled. “Did you decide to test my knowledge? Assess my professional aptitude?”
“Sorry! I mean… Are you saying that I’m not a ghost?”
“Of course, you’re not a ghost!”
“Ugh… How many reincarnations in a few days!” I breathed out mentally.
“And… maybe… am I a dream?” I tried to clarify just in case.
“You’re kidding!” the Professor laughed.
The dance was over. We bowed to each other and…
***
Roman appeared in the crowd in the guise of the Magician!
“Thank God!” I exclaimed mentally.
“Did you have any doubts?” Roman chuckled.
“I have to dance with each author once. And then with you. Please, don’t disappear! If the Guardian brings the wine, don’t drink, since it’s enchanted!”
Roman nodded and disappeared into the crowd.
***
I took a step aside and bumped into Arachne.
“Shall we dance?” she whispered, reaching for me with one of her numerous paws and enveloping me with a magically poisonous gaze.
I ducked away from Arachne and…
***
I collided with the Cat.
“Good night, the Honorable Mister the Puss!!!” I greeted him, hoping for an answer.
“Hello, Alice!” he smiled.
“What’s wrong with the Guardian’s wine? Did he whisper a love spell on it?”
“No, it just erases the memory at midnight!”
I wanted to clarify, whether all or only some part of it, and whether the memory would be restored afterwards, but Arachne…
***
She grabbed me and dragged to the center of the circle formed by the guests dancing something cheerful. Deftly manipulating her numerous paws, Arachne spun and wrapped her invisible web around me, saturating with the poison of her devilish gaze. I felt like a fragile butterfly that would die in a cocoon of her own fear, unable to get outside.
When the dance was over, a waiter appeared on the stage. The tray with wine glasses glittered in his hands. I remembered Pasha, because the waiter looked too suspiciously like him.
“No, no, thanks, I don’t drink!” I said, forcing a smile.
The glitch in the Matrix, caused by the appearance of the waiter, allowed me to get out of my stupor, and I tried to find the Cat, but he was nowhere to be seen.
***
Dancing with each of the authors, I seemed to say goodbye to them… forever… But I had another feeling also. As before, with rare exceptions, they seemed to be fakes. No, no, of course, everyone spoke, smiled and behaved like humans. However, there was something missing, but what exactly?
From time to time the music stopped. Perhaps the Guardian was changing the records on the gramophone. At such moments, the waiter used to appear, offering another portion of the enchanted wine, and Arachne used to crawl up to me, tightening her invisible nets with her eyes.
“Why does the Guardian need the guests to forget at midnight what is going on?” I thought. “By the way, what time is it now?”
“In this Mansion, all the clocks seem to be props. They stopped a long time ago, Alice,” I heard in response.
***
“Finally! Here it is, my last dance in the Mansion!”
Roman came up to me and took my hand, but – wow! – like Ray had danced with me in some past life, his fingers slipped between mine, locking our palms in a deadly grip. No one had ever done like that, except Ray!
“You are the Magician,” I said mentally and smiled.
“What are your plans?” Roman smiled me back.
“The Professor of the Undead says I’m not a ghost. The Wanderer wrote the same last night. Damn constant changes. I’m very tired, Roman. I no longer understand what and why… how and where… I’m confused…”
“In the web of Arachne?”
“Yeah, it looks like she has chosen me as her victim today!”
“Arachne has just sensed your fear. What’s wrong with the wine?”
“The Cat says whoever drinks it will lose his memory at midnight. It seems that everyone drank the wine, except you and me, and the Guardian, right?” Roman nodded, and I continued, “The Guardian said he wouldn’t let me go home, promising an unforgettable tour of the Backstage. I agreed with the King of Swords, he will distract the Guardian so that I can sneak out into the Portal. Yesterday I got the key to the fireplace room. And look at the waiter! He is the copy of Pasha! However, the borders with Germany are still closed! How did he get here?”
Suddenly, I noticed the Guardian drinking the wine and chatting with the waiter. The waiter bowed to the Guardian and left. Apparently, for another portion of that wine.
“Does the Guardian himself drink the enchanted wine?”
“Does it matter to you? You’re not a ghost, Alice. And you have to get out of here! To leave forever for your Happy Reality! Have you finished the book?”
I nodded…
“And what way?”
(“… You want to know how this story ends in my mind, don’t you, Roman? Regardless of what actually happens,” I tried to formulate my thoughts, but… Arachne!!! She looked at me with a paralyzing gaze, and not only from every corner of the Theater, but from every point of the Universe! “Her web, entangling my Consciousness, doesn’t allow me to say what I have been preparing to say to you, Roman, here and now, when between me and the mysterious Portal there is only a couple of final chords of the Guardian’s record!”)
“You became the Magician,” I breathed it out. “And the manuscript, I took it with me. Just in case…”
“Do you want to carry the book through the Portal?”
I nodded…
***
The music stopped. The Guardian left, apparently to change the record. I found the King of Swords with my eyes and gave him the conventional sign.
“Now we need to hurry, Roman! The manuscript was left in my bag in the cafe. Let’s get it and…”
I ran off the stage and flew along the numerous rows of the auditorium to the door. Roman followed me. Jumping out of the door into the dark corridor of the Dungeon, I collided with… the waiter and… oh no! The tray with wine glasses! The waiter couldn’t hold it on! The glasses fell to the floor and broke, covering my dress with wine.
“Pasha!!!” I involuntarily burst out, and the waiter seemed to smile me back.
He put his finger to his lips, “Shh!”
“Time is running out!” Roman instantly caught me under the arm.
…And finally, having already reunited with my manuscript, I pressed the hidden tile, and the fireplace moved out, opening the passage to the cherished inter-room Portal…
***
We were standing on a silver bridge somewhere in the center of the blue-black Universe with billions of twinkling stars in the absolute Silence. The Transit Zone space reminded me of “The Girl and the Moon Cat” paintings’ background.
“It’s so quiet,” I said out loud.
“And it seems to be no Arachne here!” Roman smiled.
I hugged him and, closing my eyes, reached out to kiss him before stepping into my New and Happy Reality, when… the devilish laughter rang out suddenly.
I opened my eyes. The Guardian appeared on the bridge!
“I told you I wouldn’t let you go anywhere, honey!”
Suddenly, from the other side of the bridge, appeared… Ray.
“Leave her alone, Guardian!”
“Come on, Ray, tell her the truth!”
I looked at Ray and then at Roman.
“Ray… I…”
“Come on, come on! Tell her!” the Guardian didn’t give up. “Tell her there’s no Roman here!”
“WHAT’S?!” I was horrified.
“Your Roman is just a program!!!” the Guardian laughed ominously. “One of those you’re so fond of installing!”
“Ray, what is he talking about?! What else program? What’s going on, tell me the truth!” I took a step towards Ray, hoping for…
“Ray created the program and sent it to my Mansion!” the Guardian kept taunting me.
“Ray! Don’t be silent! The Guardian is lying! He’s just crazy!”
“It’s true, Alice,” Ray nodded, taking my hand.
“I told you that Roman is not a match for you!”
I recoiled from them, “No! It can’t be true!”
“Why, Ray? I wanted to come to you, didn’t I?”
“That’s why… I want you to live for real.”
“How can it be? Roman is alive! That’s not true! Why are you deceiving me?”
“His prototype is a living person, yes. But here and now Roman is a thought-form,” Ray clarified. “I found Roman in Alice’s mind, and, having programmed the thought-form in a certain way, sent it to you in the Mansion so that you, going through all the tasks together with Roman, would remember at least a little of what I had taught Alice once. I wanted Alice not to give up, but to live on, to create her own New and Happy World, in which Love would await her.”
“Aye-aye, Alice! Come on, come home to daddy! I’ll get you!”
“He’s crazy!!! Get me out of here, Ray!!!” still not understanding anything, I whispered.
“Ray, tell her who I am!” the Guardian laughed again, and his eyes lit up with devilish lights.
“Alice,” Ray breathed heavily. “You are…”
“A ghost?!” I supposed, not listening to the end.
“No, no, not a ghost! You are a programmed thought-form as well as Roman, but you were created by the Guardian…”
“What’s???!!!”
“That’s right, my dear!” the Guardian clapped his hands. “You are my creation! My BELOVED DAUGHTER!!! You live in MY HEAD!!! Yes, baby! I’ve written a script that keeps you forever in my Mansion!!! Come on, remember, I told you the truth, unlike both of them!!! Your HOUSE is MINE!”
My Consciousness, like a suddenly broken vase, crumbled to pieces, unable to withstand the blow, “Roman is a thought-form programmed by Ray… I’m a thought-form created by the Guardian. We all live in his head, in the Guardian’s mind…”
I looked at my manuscript sadly and threw it into the Abyss of Eternity in despair, all in vain!!! The Guardian grabbed my arm and led me along, but Ray stopped him with a look.
“Like any creation of any Creator, she has the right of own WILL. Alice, please, put yourself together! For the 44th time in a row you pass the Guardian’s script, breaking down at the same place here, choosing DEATH. I want you to choose LIFE full of LOVE, finally…”
Suddenly, the waiter appeared on the bridge.
“Pasha! And you… Are you a thought-form too?!” I asked.
The Guardian laughed again.
“Yes, honey! Both of you are created by me! And note I’m not a murderer! You just bumped into Pasha, he dropped the tray, and the red wine spilled on your dress! Aye-aye-aye!”
“And so 44 times in a row!” I realized, being shocked.
“Give her some wine, Pasha, for the 45th!” the Guardian exclaimed, but Pasha didn’t move.
Feeling impotence, I sank down. Sitting on the edge of the bridge above the Abyss of Eternity, I began weeping. Ray sat down next to me and hugged me, stroking my head.
“You have to pull yourself together, Alice! You were, you are and you will be… real, but not here! You are only one step away from reality.”
The Guardian came up to us and tried to say something, when all of a sudden… his face was sharply distorted… beyond recognition…
Pasha smiled and glanced at his watch.
“It’s midnight!” Ray exhaled in relief.
“Where am I?” the Guardian asked.
“In someone’s nightmare dream,” I replied coldly.
Pasha volunteered to take the Guardian to the Backstage, and they disappeared.
I looked questioningly at Ray and Roman.
“Well,” Ray smiled, “for the 44th time, Pasha gave to drink the enchanted wine to the Guardian!”
“Isn’t the Guardian his Creator? If Pasha is a thought-form programmed by the Guardian, then why was the program able to do so with its Creator?”
“The freedom of choice is manifested like that,” Roman said and sat down next to us. “You helped Pasha, and he thanked you in his own way.”
“Tell me everything, Ray… From the very beginning,” I asked, not trusting Roman any more.
“Once upon a time ‘The Gloves’ story, happened to the Guardian, changed his Consciousness, in which a conflict arose between ‘I want, but I don’t allow myself’ and ‘guilty without guilt’. The story about the Guardian’s illegitimate daughter, whom he suddenly fell in love with and then just as suddenly lost, is described in his book. The Guardian was so eager to materialize his lost love that, having met Alice, who looked like his daughter, he immediately mistook her for the result of his mental efforts. The gloves played a fatal role. On the eve of the meeting with the Guardian, Alice was given the black gloves as a gift, exactly like his daughter’s. Anyhow, it wasn’t Alice the Guardian needed, it was her love. So the Guardian wrote another story or, as he called it, the script. However, the thought-form he created was his lovely child by default, the conflict couldn’t be resolved, the circle was closed.”
“Ray, I wonder… If my prototype lives in reality, why do I have most of my prototype’s real life memory erased?”
“No human being, even a genius, is able to describe the whole world. A writer discards everything superfluous, not fundamental, in his opinion, for his work. So you remember only what the Guardian wrote in the script. For example, immediately after leaving the Mansion in the Blizzard, you found yourself in your flat. There was no way home fragment in the script.”
“I know I used to go to a church, but… Ray! I found the church!”
“That’s right! Any creation, including a thought-form, being a child of any Creator, has the qualities / characteristics / properties of its parent…”
“So… does it start to create by itself?” I exclaimed, stunned by the obvious fact.
“Yes! Like a virus that is constantly changing, mutating, modifying itself. Each time, after playing the next version of the script in the Guardian’s mind, you became more and more independent. You made more and more efforts to bypass his settings. You brewed coffee for the Guardian, changed the furs and programs of the parties, you were able to walk in the Blizzard, find a church, enter it, communicate with other thought-forms and even write your own book!”
“Why didn’t the King of Swords see my church?”
“It exists only in your reality, which he can’t penetrate.”
“And the Witch? Is she a thought-form, too?”
“All the characters are from the Guardian’s script! Authors and their books, as you rightly noted, do exist. And their presentations were held in the prototype of the Mansion by your prototype. That is, the Mansion in the Guardian’s mind is an exact replica of the Mansion that exists in reality. However, some of the thought-forms, writers, like you and the Witch, have tried to gain independence.”
“She kept dreaming about her first night at the Mansion…”
“Yes, because she, as a thought-form, lives in the script with only one presentation reserved for her. Trying to go beyond the program, the Witch began to create her own reality and got one more presentation at the Mansion, of her ‘Cain’s Tales’, canceling the presentation of another author, already prescribed by the Guardian in the poster. That’s why the Guardian disliked the Witch. She became dangerous for his script and could cause a revolt in the Mansion, waking up the dormant Consciousness of all the thought-forms.”
“Wow!” involuntarily escaped from my lips. “But how did the Guardian know about the existence of you and Pasha?”
“Having read Alice’s book, he learned about me,” Ray smiled. “Therefore, the memory of me is embedded in you. Next, the Guardian went to Alice’s social network page and among her friends found a prototype suitable for his purpose — a waiter. Pasha is a thought-form consciously programmed by the Guardian in order to mirror his own conflict on you, despite the fact that Alice wasn’t Pasha’s mother. However, you rewrote his script for yourself. You decided to help Pasha by means of purely heart communication and, what’s even cooler, asked God directly to help Pasha, bypassing the Guardian, who imagined himself to be God. By the way, like the similarity of gloves, the coincidence of dates of birth, mine and Pasha’s, turned out to be really accidental. The Guardian doesn’t know the date of my birth, since Alice never mentioned it anywhere.”
“Ugh!” I sighed. “That’s why we weren’t reflected in mirrors without being ghosts! So, the Wanderer is a thought-form-program of the Guardian, too, isn’t he? Anyway, he really helped me!”
“You won’t believe it!” Ray laughed. “The Wanderer is the only true person in this whole story! Imagine, he is really a shaman, traveling through the Places of Power in trance and able to communicate with various creatures and entities, including thought-forms!”
“Unbelievable,” I sighed, remembering 40 nights in the Guardian’s head. “And that 43 dresses turned out to be stained with the wine spilled by Pasha, didn’t they?”
“Yes, 43 times you made your way here, to the Portal, bumping into Pasha in the corridor, and you ended up walking into Death. There was an instant decay of atoms. The Guardian took the dress remained in the Portal to his collection. I wanted to help Alice in the real world, to make her want to live.”
“So, you created Roman in order to re-program me for Love and send me through the Portal to the real Alice, as a parcel to her Consciousness, didn’t you?”
“Right,” Ray nodded. “In parallel, you up-graded Roman to the Magician.”
“Stop! Why did the Guardian allow the installation of Roman, obviously alien and harmful program to his script?”
“Roman appeared later. The Guardian agreed only when he realized that perhaps Roman could be the one to keep you in his Mansion after you found out the truth, here in the Portal, at the last moment. We can say that the thought-form named Roman is a chance for the real Alice, but a trap for the thought-form named Alice.”
“Did the Guardian expect me to return to the Mansion to live with Roman those 40 nights permanently, in a circle, with minor modifications, since in the real world, outside the Mansion where our prototypes live, there are no Alice with Roman together, right?” I asked sadly.
“Yes,” Ray nodded. “At least right now.”
I thought for a moment and looked at Roman. That was the choice of the Transit Zone:
* to leave for Ray in the World of the Dead,
* to return to the Mansion, where I can constantly, albeit not for long, live with Roman, or
* to merge with the real Alice in the World of the Living, where there is neither Ray nor romance with Roman…
“For 21 days you have been launching your Wish Program and writing the book,” Roman said, reading my thoughts. “You have actually built a Happy Reality for the real Alice. You just have to take the last correct step. Step over your fear!”
“But you’re not there. Or rather, you’re there completely different,” I sighed.
“You are Wizard!” Ray hugged me and grinned. “You, who turned Roman into the Magician and re-programmed Alice onto Love, have only to launch both programs into the real world, where the real Alice and Roman live. Go to Alice, let her wake up in her new Happy Reality, and let Roman go to his prototype. You practiced Magic not for nothing! Everything that is yours will return to you. You’ll see! Perhaps, through another person, but surely will!”
“As well as my manuscript?!” I asked incredulously, remembering how recklessly I had thrown it into the blue-black Abyss of Eternity.
Suddenly, the Cat came up to us, followed by…
“The Honorable Mister the Puss is real, too!” Ray smiled. “And both are travelers!”
“Wanderer?!!” I exclaimed.
“Alice djan! Believe it or not, I was just on my way to Tibet, when someone’s manuscript fell on my head! I enjoyed reading your future book, but I decided to return the original to the author!”
I laughed and then looked at Roman…
“Fears, Master?” he smiled.
I handed him the manuscript and announced my task for the day…
Task No. 40. The MOST IMPORTANT
…Pass this book to someone who is not the Magician yet!
September 2020 — March 07, 2021
Moscow