I had woken up this morning, once again, to a fast beating heart and the distant memories of another horrific nightmare. If you were to know me, you'd understand that I am not usually prone to any nightmares - petty or dramatic. However, these were rather different compared to any nightmare or dream I've ever experienced, so different in fact that I wonder whether they are just works of a creative imagination.
I remember the boy, being dragged away. It seemed so familiar to me as if I'd seen something similar before. The man, the dark, shadowed one – there was something about him – about all of it. I know in my mind that it's hardly possible, but I feel that there's something about that man and the Abbey that tells me it's a part of me. Sometimes I feel like I'm breaking through my mind, and almost discovering something that was in front of my eyes, but I had blocked from my memory a long time ago.
What appeared to bother me more increasingly than the other aspects, was not the boy being dragged away like a useless toy and not so much the harsh, cruel voice – ruthless and unforgiving. What I found most worrying was the building in which they all occurred.
The same building was the main feature, the Abbey, the same cold stone building – the one that I had seen with my own eyes merely days before. Normally, I would need little reason to explain my fascination with the place – after all I always feel some sort of connection or bond between myself and Russia no matter what I appear to be observing. However, I fear that there may be something more – more than the usual captivating aura of Russia.
I fear that there may be memories. Memories forgotten, that I long to recover, that I long to access through some unseen barrier. However, I also fear that when I finally know them the connection and the emotion – good or bad – will be so immense that I wish I'd never sought them out in the first place. There is something very tense and obsessive about the thought that I know there is something dark, darker than dark that is about to be revealed to me and I know my lust to know about what is hidden from me is great ... far too great.
'Are you ok?' Rei asked me, his face expressing concern as it always had. I did not reply apart from my classic expression: 'Hn.' I had almost revealed to him my fear and longing, a bond too immense to be healthy. This, like everything else had to be kept to myself and only myself – just like everything else. This was my mission, mine, my own.
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I ate breakfast silently, though this was no different. The others were still getting ready for the day so I hoped I'd be alone for now. I needed to think without any disturbances for a while. For a moment I considered visiting the building – I knew exactly where it was situated and I would hardly be missed for some time...
At that moment Rei entered the room. I glanced briefly at his expression – it was concern once again. Not wishing to go through the same questions like I expected to occur, I kept my eyes fixed on the furnished wood and urged my mind to recollect any image or wording from my memory that would even fit with the grey building. None came.
I could hear the others stumble down the creaky staircase. I didn't want to be disturbed and I wished to know more about what this place was. Its stone posture, the cold aura it had, it's towering height and the dense shadows – it all ment something to me. I had to find out, it was no request, no childish curiosity that could wait . I had to do this.
I left, not saying farewell as always. I could not hear their questions nor feel their glares full of concern and annoyance on my retreating back. I stepped through the doors and embraced the cold, the comforting cold that only Moscow could give. It had snowed lightly through the night and so the ground was gently frosted but nothing heavy. I made my way down the path and took directions I didn't even know to my knowledge.
As I walked through alleys and streets the desire to understand – to fill the gradually deteriorating part of my being where Russia was placed grew stronger and it seemed with every step I took I understood something more than had though I had acquired no solid information.
The cold, grey, emotionless building with the deep shadows appeared in my mind time and time again, as if some great importance. The image of the boy – the boy being dragged away appeared too. However, unlike the other memory, I felt that this was not one solid event, but something that had occurred more than once, in my past.
The voice. The cold voice, the voice that haunted me still and sent chills down my spine appeared more than was necessary for a simple memory. I knew whoever owned this voice would have something to do with this. He had to otherwise I would not feel intimidated and frightened by his voice, its low tone, and harsh texture. I would not feel that he once had a control over me, and when I meet him again – still will.