I have a dream…

Have you ever noticed how small our dreams are?

In the 90-s guys dreamed of being racketeers, girls – foreign-currency-paid prostitutes. Then the most adventurous ones were shot, and the boldest – sold to Albanians. Now the dream limit is – a manager. A being in a suit and a trendy tie. I guess this is how angels in Jehovah’s Witnesses’ paradise look like. In winter – Maldives or if you are not that lucky – Egypt, on Friday – to get drunk. In the morning – coffee, at noon – solitaire, at night - minimum needs for a sleep. Sex with an office co-worker or an ad representative. If you are not that lucky – with administration, in a queer form. Those who were deprived of gray matter are dreaming about a cop’s uniform. Cooler than that would be an attorney’s uniform, but there you need a brain. But Chinese haven’t learned yet how to make it cheap and of good quality. To dream is in general considered an unrewarding action nowadays. The maximum that’s allowed is - to win a million dollars. Or to purchase an apartment on the Pechersk hills or one can also get a deputy’s seat. Forever, if possible. To cut the budget, sometimes knock down mob with a new car and wag his tongue at Shuster Live show.  

 Therefore I am almost sure that 90% of the population irrespectively of the language, residential area or religion would happily agree to organize the National political prison on the ten per cent of the territory of Ukraine – with areas for hunting, helipads, palaces and kangaroos. And to place all those, longing for a deputy’s seat, there. Sure thing, forever. And that’s it. What do you think? It would be actually cheaper than it’s now.

 Anyway the situation in the world is not much better. Limitation of the coefficient of globality of dreams by the world bureaucratic international is absolutely logic and directly connected with the demographic collapse of the civilization. Nature protects itself as much as it is able, by homosexuality and murders, cataclysms and genocides, but hairless monkeys multiply faster. And to give them an opportunity to dream – is a fancy not planned in the business plan. So, a dream started to decay. Both in width and in depth.

And the worst thing is that even children’s drams are spoilt. Nobody dreams of being Robin Hood or Gagarin, Cinderella or Snow Queen. Of making a bow by himself or learning how to cook borsch. Not even speaking about baking pies or wood-burning. We are not talking about the freaks, who stay the only source of the sacred knowledge about all those things. They are kept in case of a nuclear war. What if we again have to bake pies or chop wood. And all of this with hands. What a NIGHTMARE!!!

 On the other hand - whole social groups, and sometimes countries (such as Somalia, Congo or Afghanistan) just fall out of the dream-making process. The Planet doesn’t notice those sarcomas which devour post-Christian, white (excuse me this non-tolerant word) civilization. Likewise the last Romans, the world thinks that it can negotiate with cannibals. You can negotiate, of course. The problem is that their currency is violence, not a dollar. The Us Ambassador in Libya was not saved by the passport, or by dollars, or by aircraft carriers. A tamed beast starts eating the tamer, and he keeps murmuring about the rights of beasts. It is called – tolerance. 

 The saddest thing is that beasts’ dreams are to eat all others and become the toughest beast. What is even worse is that beasts are actually right. To unite a gazelle and a lion under one scepter is possible only by violence alone or segregating them into different cages. Segregation is above the law and violence is given to terrorists as a franchise.

 When Genghis Khan was asked what he was striving for in his marches, he answered: “I wish a girl with a golden plate in her hands could go from the Yellow Sea to the Black Sea, without being afraid of losing her honor or the plate”. The similar idea about the area from Panjshir to Waziristan was also a dream of Talibes. Only the New Horde can unite a climacteric Europe and a frigid Russia.  An impotent Mongolia, let alone Ukraine, is not capable of that. Apparently the only two challengers for the place of Casanova are China or Caliphate that is quickly developing. What a weird word-play! The Old Turkic “ordu” – khan’s headquarters and Latin “ordo” - the order. The Steppe and the City. Yin and Yang. The Afghan mountains and skyscrapers of Guangzhou, Hong Kong and Singapore. And among all that, between a yurt and a douar, there lies my Land, which is called Ukraine. 

I am dreaming of not having to choose between the East and the West. Drinking water from the Dnipro without thinking if I am going to die poisoned next morning. Seeing herds of wild oxen on Kherson steppes, and eagles that soar above the mounds. I am dreaming… Of listening to the play of springs in the Kholodnyi Ravine and hearing Ukrainian in public buses. I am dreaming about singing “Yesterday” together with Hakim and Benjamin, sitting on the Temple Mount. About searching for remedies for various diseases in the Ituri jungle without being afraid for my life. Studying ancient words of bushmen on the Namib barchans. Walking down the streets of Benghazi and Port Said without hiding a cross under the shirt. Drinking “Kindzmarauli” in Daghestan mountains and fishing for a grayling on the Yenisei rapids. My dreams pull apart my poky body and my poky Ukraine. I dream about shooting away in a Cadillac Eldorado down a luxurious highway from Lisbon to Vladivostok. Feeding tigers in an orthodox monastery together with the president of the republic of Zeleny Klyn (the Green Ukraine). Hiking with a backpack from Mohenjo-daro to Jericho. Singing “Vona” (“Her”) in the Grand Canyon and skiing down the Greenland snows.

Why is there so much of me? And why is there so little strength for making the DREAM come true? Maybe I collected dreams that are not mine? Maybe you put them in storage and lost the key? I know that for my dream to come true – millions have to lose their homes and peace. Thousands – their lives. And several dozens – to curse me.  But there is no choice – we scatter away to the outskirts of Ecumene, like the Universe after it had passed the point of singularity. And either horde or ordnung. Or the DREAM. It’s also the name of the biggest aircraft in the world. Made in Ukraine. 

And if you don’t like my dream – study Putonghua and the schedule of namaz, my dear friends.