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Eestikeelsed artiklid



Vilen Künnapu



Harry Pye


Mart Aas


Mehis Heinsaar




Felix’ dream was interrupted by the ringing of his alarm clock. He reluctantly opened his eyes, feeling that he was in a strangely pleasant mood. His state of mind was at once perplexed and loving, but loving towards whom?... He stared irritatedly at the alarm clock, which had awakened him at the sweetest moment. Not to mention that it was absolutely unnecessary, since he had been out of a job for more than a month now.
Luckily, Felix remembered the dream more or less.

He remembered it from the moment, when he had been walking through the city towards the central railway station. It was evening. The surrounding air came to his memory as misty, warm and thick. There were very few people about and the Schnelli pond area was imbued with a lonely humid silence. As he was walking, a pool of rainwater suddenly caught Felix’ eye on the park lawn. Slowly, a large cardboard box was rising from the pool. It was a square box, could have been around one cubic meter in size. When it had risen to about three meters above the pool, it unfolded to the shape of a cross and levitated there for approximately ten seconds. Then, the apparition sunk slowly back into the water. Thereafter, Felix was overcome with a profoundly religious feeling. He cautiously approached the rainwater pool to see how deep it really was, but at the bottom he saw just ordinary grass floating, and he would have guessed it was only a couple of centimetres low... What did it all mean?

From the park, the fellow walked to the old dairy parlour in the central railway station (a place that hasn’t been there for more than a decade beyond the dreamland). The milk parlour was dim and deserted, it smelled rancid, but Felix liked it there. He bought a cup of coffee with milk and a couple of grease-pies. While quietly sipping his hot watery drink and listening to a distant bossanova tune, he suddenly felt someone approaching from behind. A moment later, that someone brushed her face against his hair and he could feel a burning desire flash through his soul. And without even seeing the person behind him, he fell in love...

Then, he woke up.


Now, in hindsight, he did not remember setting the alarm clock in the evening. Nevertheless it had rung and pulled him out of the dream world.

Felix came out of his reverie.

The room had cooled down during the night. November was yawning behind the window; frost covered the fence posts, suburban rooftops and trees. Felix jumped out of the bed and got quickly dressed. He counted his remaining money, which wasn’t much. Enough for a can of soup.

He tied the shoe-laces, ready to leave his tight little studio, when an overpowering longing pulled him down. The longing for this stranger in the dream, who had stood behind him and brushed her face against his hair. The thirst to find that mystery woman threw Felix back into bed. With all his clothes on, he pulled the blanket over his head and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to wake up in the same dream.

And quite inexplicably – he did...


He found himself standing near the central railway station. On the platform. The weather was still misty and warm, but now it was morning. Felix had a suitcase in his hand as if he had just arrived from a long journey, but he did not know where he was to go. He decided to trust the feeling inside. Strolling down the Vana-Kalamaja street, he soon turned left, sensing some unfamiliar anticipation and pressure. People he met on the street expressed some dismay and turned away, as if dreading him. Felix wandered along the narrow suburb streets that smelled of coal. He looked at the numbers of houses and somehow he felt sure of where he was headed. At last, he turned into a small dead-end street, stepped into a garden with a tall fence, and stopped in astonishment.

There was a tall, slender woman standing bare feet in a dark-blue summer dress and Felix recognised her immediately. It was the same stranger who had stood behind him in the parlour – there was no doubt…
She had a milk-white complexion, uncommonly large dark eyes and provocatively red lips. Wild unruly mess of a hair covered her head like a bush. The woman leaned on the fence with a smile; her dress was unbuttoned from neck to belly, revealing the white curve of her breast. In front of her stood – or rather, floated – a huge silver-scaled carp. The fish, who was slowly moving his fins and the woman seemed to be engaged in an intimate conversation; at the sight of Felix, the woman flinched and the silvery fish disappeared behind a wood-pile, startled.

But the woman gathered herself at once.

“Why did you come back?” she asked from the man in an unexpectedly calm voice.

“Why do you poke your nose into things that are no longer your business?”

Felix, full of confusion and sprouting jealousy, couldn’t say much to his defence.

“I just... wanted to know, how it continues. I wanted to know, who you are, what you look like, and... to tell you that I...”

“Stop, please. Your time here is over and you know that. Perhaps you noticed that others are afraid of you. You are a dead man here. Do you understand – dead! Go away, leave immediately. You should not be here!”

“But you touched me and there was...”

“What was, was then... and what is, is now. You have no business here. Do you get me?!”

There was a quiet inviting whistle from behind the woodpile. A childish smile came to the woman’s ruby-red mouth and she vanished behind the pile of wood without further ado with the uninvited guest.

Bewildered, insulted and jealous, Felix ran after the woman, but behind the woodpile, there was no-one. Full of desperation, Felix lifted his eyes to the sky and exclaimed...

He awoke.


Now, Felix’ head was full of uncomfortable disorder. He did not remember what he had dreamt, only a feeling of heaviness lay on his soul. It was twenty past ten. He found himself on the couch, half dressed, one sock on, the other clenched in his sweaty fist... Strange, he thought. He strained to remember once again what had happened in the dream, but it seemed to be a mission impossible. It was like someone had swiped a hand through his head. Rubbing his face with fingers he cleared up, got out of the bed, pulled on his coat and shoes. Then, he walked out of the house.

It was snowing softly. Crows perched on the treetops. Crisp air and sun blinking through the clouds dispelled Felix’ gloomy mood. His step got lighter towards the city centre.

Mehis Heinsaar

Mehis Heinsaar is a Tartu-based writer. He is the author of four books and a member of the literary movement “Erakkond”. See also his texts “The Traveller’s Happiness” (Epifanio 4/2006), “Artist and Age” (Epifanio 5/2006) and “Live Again in Peace” (Epifanio 6/2007).

August Künnapu, Vilen Künnapu, Mehis Heinsaar, Arne Maasik, Kiwa.