A gift from the mountains

This is an excerpt from my diary, which I wrote when I was about 25 and just came back from a two-week trip in Crimean mountains. Basically, I saw some “lines” in the dream, however at that time I had no idea what the “lines” were thinking they were arteries. The excerpt is taken as-is.

Early in the morning I dreamt of a hand - my own hand. Thin amber-lit straight-and-kinked lines - arteries, and slowly moving something darkish, flickering yellow, aiming steadily for my pulse. The moving something stopped at the pulse, froze at the brightest point pulsing with amber, and suddenly filled up with the yellow glow itself from this point.

First thought - calm and detached - “it is alive, it came to get warmer”… And the second one - squeamishly-frightened, hysterical - “IT’s ALIVE! IT’s ON MY PULSE!”

My own wild screech pulls me away from my dream, right palm over left wrist - there is something there! And I am throwing this - dry to touch and curled-up something on the floor, jumping up, firing the light on.

There is a small beetle creeping along the kitchen floor. A beetle who came with me from Crimea and God-knows-how survived in my sleeping bag - packed tight and sound in a compression sack. It stopped by the stool leg and froze on the spot.

First thought again - squeamish and frightened - “KILL IT! Squeeze it with that leg!” And the second one - calm and caring - “no, how can you? It is alive, it’s glowing - I saw it myself…”

The beetle was not very keen to climb up the toothpaste tube that I pushed next to him. “Come on” - I said to him - “you will perish here, this is no place for you…”

And he climbed up right away, just as if he heard me.

I carefully dropped him down the window into the garden.