Eyes of the Placebo

I still remember her eyes.
Just like it was yesterday.

Boring day. Just another boring day, one could count thousands of them – filled with nothing, days that certainly happened without leaving almost any trace.
Boring, ugly, yet faceless day.

I met her near the old bridge. Her red hair gave some noble-like shine to the rusted and soiled remains of the Koloss, as they called it. Her lips moved, as she kept repeating something, with her eyes stared somewhere far, far away from here. It was nearly hypnotizing to watch her.
Suddenly, she darted to the middle of the bridge, screaming, almost growling – and stopped. Now she was touching the column, smiling and curious, just like a child first seeing a toy.
She looked back at me.

“Do you think this is real enough?”.

Real enough? Seriously?
“Excuse me?”
She smiled again,and now it was a smile of a patient parent.
“Do you think this is real enough”, she repeated in a calm, deep voice.
“Sorry, I still don’t understand.”
“Have you ever heard of placebo?”
“Uh..well, I guess..”
“Have you ever seen any Matrix movie?”
“Yes, I have”, I replied. “So what difference..”
“Why can’t you understand then? Why can’t ANYONE understand it?”

She must be crazy, I thought. She’s got to be mad. Mental, as they call it here.
Pills-driven, chaotic person with something very important missing inside.
So why am I still here, listening to all of this?

“Have you ever loved? Have you ever felt something that was strong enough to take you away? Have you ever questioned the things you’re living in? No, you haven’t. Nobody wants to find this out – and the truth is right here”, she started crying again. “The truth is right before your eyes, and yet everyone’s too blind to see a bloody thing.”
“And what would that be?”
“The truth is”, she answered, “that nothing’s real enough, if you take a really good look. The truth is”, she said in a higher tone, “that there may be no truth. No truth at all. You may be my fantasy, and vice versa. We both could be inside a someone else’s lucid dream. We could be a dream of the bridge. A dream of the planet. An instant hallucination of Solar system, if you want to. When you..”

Suddenly, a cough started. It was a rough cough, the one you wouldn’t expect from such a graceful young woman.
“Beg pardon. When you wake up and uprise too fast – haven’t you had that strange feeling, like you aren’t in your body, but just a spectator, a voiceless, powerless gazer?”
“Well, I know what you’re talking about, but that’s just…”
“That’s not my point. How do you know what’s real?”
“How do I WHAT?”
“Yes, you heard me. How do you know that all this is real?”
“Why would I need to know that? It’s just real, that’s it.”
“No, that isn’t. What season is it now?”
“What? Summer, but..”
“Why summer?”

I stared at her, astonished.
“Why summer? Because it’s warm, and it’s shiny, and…”
“… And because you’ve been told it’s summer”, she said with a smile. “You see, we have names for almost everything, but we know them because we’ve been told before. The skies are blue, everyone knows that, right? But what EXACTLY are “the skies” and “the blue”, apart from the words? “Blue” is “blue” just because back in the days someone said “Alright, let’s call this blue”, and everyone else agreed, or something like that. We think we know the world, but all we know is a shape. A shape, a label, a description from someone else. It’s like listening to music someone sings to you. How would you know if he’s not mistaken? How would you know if you aren’t, as well?”
“And you”, she continued after a short pause, “you don’t even ask yourself about something like this. You just live along, drifting on a stream with your head down and your eyes closed.  As agent Smith, as I recall, said in the first Matrix movie, “living your life – oblivious”. You feel something – and at the same time you don’t really feel it, you see? Feeling is a motion, this way or another. But you don’t move, you’re just a spectator – making decisions, and yet so powerless.”

She went silent. All of the sudden I realized that it was almost a midnight.
But I didn’t want to left her here. And even if I could’ve, I didn’t asked myself why.

__

The switch clicked softly, and the lights turned on.  For a second, we were standing still and silent, yet I noticed her stare was drifting, looking for something in the room.

“Are you alright?”, I asked, trying to understand what’s going on.

“Yeah..sure”, she answered after a short delay, and smiled. “I was just..”

“Looking for something real enough?”

“Yes, sort of”, she smiled again. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Truth be told, I keep asking myself the same question. I don’t even know you name, and that makes the whole situation even stranger, at least it does to me.”

“My name?”, suddenly, she laughed loudly, almost furiously. “My name? After all I’ve said before? My name, really? Oh god.”

“Uh.. Excuse me?”

“You still didn’t get it, did you?”

“I’m afraid, I didn’t. Enlighten me, then?”

“What difference would it make? Give me a name and change it a few years or minutes later, misplace its vowels, twist it, read it backwards, after all! What would be the difference? As for me, there wouldn’t be any, not even a slightest sign of it. So I just don’t bother – and probably shouldn’t you”

“But how would I call you then?”
“Call me any name you want to. There are only two of us, so I don’t see any trouble or chance to adress your words to a wrong person”.

She kept smiling, and all of the sudden I realized that something has changed. Something in her eyes and motions, even in the way she smiled. Something in her very nature.

“Are you alright?”, she asked from the distant corner of the room. “What is it you’re thinking so hard about?”

“Oh, nevermind”, I replied. “So what’s the matter with the names?”

“You still can’t understand it? Ok then, have a sit. It’s going to be a heck of a night.”

“Something tells me it is. So…”

“So here’s the same old thing, once again. Maybe this will give you a clue. Back at the bridge, I thought I’ve said enough, but I was wrong, as it appears. Ok, let’s do it one more time.

The world itself may not exist.”

“Stop right there. How could it possibly…”

“Don’t interrupt me.”
“Sorry.”

“The world itself may not exist. And I mean the exact words I say. Everything around you could be unreal. The thing is – we won’t ever know for sure. Sounds kinda self-centric, but the only thing you can truely prove to be existing is your mind. Why? Because the fact of a dot asking the Universe about existance of everything else states that the dot IS here, yet without saying anything else is. I’m a dot. And I really wish you are too.”

“But isn’t that.. let me remember the word..solipsism, right? The “I’m the only thing that’s real” point of view.”

“It’s not. You see, solipsist would say that the whole world around him is a fake, made up by his mind. The whole world. That’s the point. A solipsist thinks of himself as of a god, The One and The Only, Alfa and Omega of everything. But isn’t that absurd? Isn’t that ridiculous? I mean – we may sound almost as the same tune, but I can’t stand them. It’s too bloody pathetic, too overwhelmed with self-esteem. It’s almost childish.

I’m sorry, I got carried away from the important things. The solipsist states : he is the Only Thing that Makes and Matters, without the Mind the reality’s gone. I say almost the opposite : we’re not “the only” something, and “The Mind” neither. We’re just people. If we’re gone, the world wouldn’t change. It wouldn’t change at all – at least, I guess so.

You see, the world we know and the world that IS, the world that exists actually – they may be two different worlds. It may be the only one real world we’re somehow floating in, hallucinating or dreaming the Dream we used to call our world. I don’t know what’s behind the door, I don’t even know the shape or the size of the room we’re in now. It’s may be death that awakes us, and it may be birth that takes us away. Everything is possible, and yet I can’t say what’s real.”

“I sound so miserable”, she continued with a faint smile, “I sound so weak, frankly speaking. I feel so weak. It’s like… Just imagine. Everything you’re used to like, or love, or hate, or anything else – everything may be a fake. Everything that worth something may be just a signal in your brain cells. It may be even worse, because we don’t know what’s the Mind is. Maybe we’re just a clouds, drifting in a colossal stream of blazing liquid. Or something plazma-like. Or, for example, everyone, every single one of us is a part of another dream. A dream of something much greater than human can imagine. God, Solaris, the Overmind – our options are limitless.”

“This can’t be true.”

“This can’t be true? How could we even attempt to imagine what’s the real world is?

Picture a child… say, five years old. He plays with his toys, listens and watches the world around him, this way or another. He looks at the toy – and his mind picks up the form. He looks at his parents, so his minds picks up another one. And the process goes on, years by years.

He’s grown now, he has a lot now he never even thought of before. Study, earning money, social activities, relationships, responsibility – you can’t ask his younger version about that, because he didn’t learn the form yet. It’s not that he has no eyes to see, it’s that he stares in the wrong direction.

He grows further. He’s a father now. That’s the form he used to know about, he thinks, but then he realizes that it’s not that simple. He understands that he can’t be the father he dreamed to be years ago – asking nothing, giving everything asked. No, he starts to be a good father – and years after he suddenly appears to be pretty alike his own old man. But as the form is learned, his mind can operate with it, yet the forms could interfere with each other.”

I caught myself sitting with a mouth wide opened.
“What do you mean by interefere?”

“I mean the exact thing the word means. Imagine a movie, a really good one, with strong plot and wisely written characters. The one you really enjoy watching. The first time you see it, it lefts you amazed. The second time you know the ending, yet the movie takes you away – and you forget everything and just enjoy it. But after a several times, the feeling disappears. The more you watch it, the less you enjoy it. You find new details, but you can’t find the same emotions in the same number. And, after all, you may even become tired of the movie, grinding your teeth every time you hear about it. But the point is, the movie hasn’t changed, it’s still the same movie it was when you first came to see it. Reality’s the same, but the spectator can’t agreed with that.

Same thing with the world. The guy that became a father, he thinks of his past different now. He thinks with the mind of grown-up, yet neither past, nor his memories have changed. It’s just the interfering shapes he learned that make the difference.

And now, since you understood the idea of the shapes… I want to ask you a simple question : how could a human imagine something made of parts he has never seen? How could anyone imagine not just the red sky or dark sun, but a place where horizon lies under his feet?”

It was a long silence. It was like trying to catch a balance between the fear and the amazement.

Horizon beneath?

“And what would replace the horizon then?”

“I don’t know. There may be no ground at all.”

“I wish there were”, I thought. “I could really use one right now.”

__

“Is anyone here?”
The voice faded slowly. Dark hall remained silent.

“Is anyone here? Anybody, hello?”

“In here”.

I ran into the room. There was a man in a chair.

“Once there was a star”, he said, almost hidden in gloom. “There was a star, a really beatiful one. A keen one. One day, the star gone away. Never to be seen again.”

He left the chair and slowly came closely, still irrecognizable in the dark.

“And what happened? Who are you, for God’s sake?”
“Well, young man”, the man replied, staring at me as he was reaching me with his hand. “Believe me, you don’t really want to…

“…Know”.

I woke up.

She was here, watching me closely. Her hair was glowing softly in a moonlight.

Her lips still kept the last breath of the word she just said.

Her eyes. Oh, God.

“Bad dream?”
“Sort of.”
“Tell me about your dreams”, she smiled.

“What?”

“Tell me about your dreams. Not the strangest topic of ours, I guess.”

“Why don’t you tell me about yours?”
“Alright, but you’re first.”
“Alright. Usually I see places I’ve visited before. Old gardens and parks, sea shores and underground stations… Common dreams, you know. Someplace you’ve been to, filled with someone you’ve seen here and there. Not a big deal.”
“So correct me if I’m mistaken : it was too common to sleep any longer, and you just suddenly woke up speaking?”

“Today it wasn’t the same.”

“What was it, then?”

“It wasn’t even a nightmare. It was just a.. strange dream. One could’ve seen it coming, in spite of my not-so-usual evening activities. It’s your turn, I guess.”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

She went silent for a minute, thinking about something.
“So…?”

” I’m searching.”

“Searching for what?”

“For the tune.”

“What kind of tune?”
“The right one.”

Madness. Once again, I caught myself thinking how stupid was the idea of talking to her, not to mention inviting her here.

“What do you know about your dreams?”

“You keep asking…”
“I’m not joking”, she said in more serious tone.

“You know, even after a whole evening  speaking with you about unreal reality and all this mind-blowing stuff like that, you still catch me surpised. What should I know about my dreams?”

“You tell me. Listen. I understand, you can probably think I’m crazy or something – but I’m not.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“You’re lying.”

She stood up quickly, with her voice trembling with anger.

“You’ve just lied to me! Looking me in the eye, you lied to me!”

“I did no…”
“No, you did! I still hear it.”

“Listen”, she sat at the same chair she was sitting in before.

–

“Orhpia, are you here?”

“Yes, mom.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m playing”, answered the girl proudly.

“Playing what?”

“That old strange thing.”

“What old…Stop right now!”

–

“What happened in your dream?”

“Oh, just a man…”

“The old one?”
“How did you…”

“What did he say to you?”

“He told me some kind of story. About a star, as I remember.”

“I was right, then.”
“Beg pardon?”

“Do you remember everything we’ve talked about?”
“Yes, clearly.”

“Listen then. When I was a child, I had a dream. It kept repeating, again and again…”

“What kind of dream?”

“Don’t interrupt me, please. One day, the dream changed. I found myself in a dark hall, full of strange gloom and glow. It scared me, I was terrified, but couldn’t woke up. So I asked I there was anyone here. Truth be told, I can’t say if I was wishing to hear any voice at all.

But I heard one. A deep one. A dark one. The voice was almost a being itself – and it scared me even more.

The voice called me.

I went in its direction. There was a room, and it was one of the most weird things I’ve ever experienced.

The room was divided. It wasn’t just a line or something like that – it was a divided room indeed. To the left there was a bright, yet smooth, shine, and there was my mother sitting.”

“By that time she was dead”, her voice lowered as her eyes filled with tears. “She was already dead for years.”

“Of course, I tried to touch her. But she stood up, and stopped me…somehow, I don’t know exactly how. She told me to calm down. She said I should listen closely.

She told me almost everything I’ve told you today. About skies without horizons. About strange things we appear to believe in. About the way to fix the tune I’ve missed all these years. She told me the story about the star you’ve heard in your dream. “

“At least, tell me the story then.”

“Believe me, you don’t really…”

“But he thinks he does.”

A sudden voice from another room broke into her words.

A deep voice indeed.

“Is that him?”

“Yes, that was the old man. But how…”

“Doesn’t matter. I think he has something to say to us.”

She turned to the mirror, looking for something in her pockets.
“What are you doing?”

“Wait a second.”

Finally, she found something. After a few seconds, she made something with the mirror and went back to me.

“What was that?”

“It doesn’t matter. Lets go.”

There was a light in the kitchen. The one we surely didn’t turn on.

As we reached the door, it suddenly turned off.

There was a man.

The same one I’ve seen in my dream.

“Who are you?”

“That’s not the matter. I’m here for another reason. What do you think about the story she told you this evening?“
“You mean…”
“I mean exactly what you’ve just thought.“

“Well… I can hardly put it in words. It’s strange, it sounds rather crazy, but I can’t find anything to argue about. It’s just a whole, a monolith my reason can’t neither broke nor ignore. “

“A monolith, you say“, replied the man with faint smile in his voice. “What if I tell you that she’s just mad?“
“Then I’d say that we make a nice couple, according to the fact that she’s here right now.”

“You know, what’s really important in this whole story of yours, young man? What really maters now, and does after all? It’s the decision. The turn you take, and the point when you decide to turn. You could still make it all wrong, you know. You always can.  But now the hard part begins. ”

She started crying again.

“What’s the hard part?”

The cry went louder.

“You don’t really want to…“

“…Know.”, I said, as I woke up.

__

Empty bed. Empty rooms. Empty apartment.

She’s gone.

I was sitting at the kitchen, thinking about everything I’ve seen.

This can’t be real. One can’t simply disappear without any trace. It’s just… I woke up, right? I bloody woke up alone in my bed! With a strong headache I’ve never experienced before, but anyway. There wasn’t anybody around.

This can’t be real. This can’t be real. Just can’t be.

This can’t be a dream. Sudden thought pulsed on the back of my head, almost as painful as the ache. The girl, her ideas and her eyes, that inimitable stare you can hardly forget even years after… And the lipstick on my mirror.

Oh gosh, I let her inside, I thought. I let the girl I’ve just met somewhere inside, despite the fact that she was acting crazy as hell.

I laughed, laughed hard, trying to get rid of the stress. But then I understood it won’t help at all.

“I guess, I owe you an apology.“

That voice! The old man’s voice!

I ran into the room… and I saw her.

She was sitting in the same armchair she used back then, faintly smiling and looking at me.

“How…”
“I guess, I owe you one too. And some explanations, probably. How about a walk?”

“You…”
“Just one walk, alright? I’ll explain, I promise.”

“Okey then.”

We went outside. Sunshine was dancing in her hair as she was looking around. It felt awkward.

“So how about now?”
“What?”

“Well, I guess, it’s quite a right time to tell me something, don’t you think?”

“Alright then. But please, listen – just listen, don’t say anything. It’s hard”, her voice trembled.  ”It’s hard to tell.”

“I’m all listening.”

“It started years ago, when I was a kid. I used to have a very colourful dreams. One day, I found them pretty close to the real world – and enjoyed the discovery I’ve made. It was amazing. I built cities in my dreams. I felt myself like a real creator. Not just a word, not just a somebody with a power to write a shitty poem or draw an average picture – no, I felt myself almost a Creator. A god. My abilities here were limitless…

So it’s no wonder I started to slip away. I didn’t want to go back here, to the real world. It was so imperfect, so dirt – not to mention people. We were rich, and I saw what the consequences are. People around me and my family were so miserable, so greedy. It scared me. They seemed almost soulless, ready to do anything to climb one step higher. Running away from the filth that gave them birth and filled their inner emptiness.

So I lost the sight of the reality. I ran too. At first I was just tiring myself during the day. Then I tried some meds, and found them as a pretty nice solution. It was almost a nightmare, if you ask me. But it didn’t seem the same way back in the days. I thought that the uncertain possibility to have a little health issues is a good price for world of mine. Who wouldn’t? Everyone would. So did I.

One day, I met the Old Man. He told me I had to stop. He said, I had to stop right now. I laughed. Oh god, what a stupid girl I was… Anyway, I was unable to do any harm to him. In my own dream! Imagine my amazement when he told me about himself. It’s not everyday when you’re given a whole world to change, but when someone comes and says “Hey there, you’re not the only one alive in this dream”…Well, it raises the bar of awkwardness twice as high as it was.

So, he led me to our old house. I recreated it very carefully, but he reminded me of something I’ve forgotten. He helped me remember one part I’ve missed. That was the moment when everything changed.

Back in the days, in the real part of my childhood, there was a strange room we always kept close. My mother forbade me even to think about the room, not to say enter it. But one day I saw a light under its door, and asked her about the room again. She started crying, talking about some old tunes she’s found, about some promises she made and ones she was given. It was creepy. She was up all night, staring somewhere in the garden. I’ve never seen her so sad.

However, several days after she came to my room and said that I must never ever speak, or thought, about this room. She made me promise, and I kept the promise for years, until the one she died.

A week after her death, I was sitting in my room, thinking about further actions. Though I wasn’t allowed to rule the company or something, I had some things to deal with. I decided to make a cup of tea and went to the kitchen, when I heard a voices.

It took me a good three minutes to realize that I clearly hear her voice. Just a week after the burial! And the sound came from that old forbidden room.

I got there, torn between desire to see her again and  promise I’ve made. Maybe I should’ve kept the promise that day.

But I opened the door. And I’ve seen her and the old man I’d seen before. It was a strange moment indeed. They went silent for a second as they saw me. Then she started crying, and he smiled. He said that it takes more than just a one prohibition to erase something that flows in my blood, or something like that. He invited me to play with him. He said that it would be a real fun for someone who created a whole world in a dream.

And after his words I recognized an old piano, standing in the darkest corner of the room. Then he waved his hand…and it’s changed! Right before my eyes it changed its shape. It was more of a harp now. I can’t really tell. It was like something in a dream – you just know the shape, you know everything about it exactly until you have to describe it. It was even stranger than hearing my mother again and meeting the old man from a dreams altogether.

But I tried it. It had an unique sound, but I had no idea what to do with all these keys and strings. I tried, and something in the room changed. I stopped playing. This thing scared the hell out of me. He asked me, why did I stop playing. I explained. Then he smiled, and told me the story he partly told you.

The story says,once there was a star. It shined for a people who worshiped it. They were smart, but they remained kind. Unlike us.

One day, the star told the people that it felt lonely. They asked why, and the star told them that it felt envy. The star wanted to be a universe. It wanted to create another stars and rule the space. It wanted to be something much greater than it was.

However, sooner or later, the star decided to try. It left the people for a day, and they all died. All at once. They died grateful. They wished the star to find its path.

When the star returned a few days later, the damage was done. The planet was dead, yet the return of the sun gave it a hope to become the same old planet one day, only if the light would do the right things in the right places. But the star couldn’t have stand it. It cried, days after days. The star heard all the voices of the people it unintentionally killed, and the sound of it made everything worse. The star was gone, refusing to fix anything. Too afraid to be responsible again. And no one seen that star since then.

The old man told me that, and I burst into tears as he was speaking. Once he finished, I asked him why did the tell me the story at all.

He said that I was the star. A star that was trying to fool itself, unable to use its gift properly. So he made me two offers – the first was to open the door, and the second was to play that strange thing. He suggested me to describe the thing I was playing. I said that I can’t. That’s alright, he said, as the thing doesn’t exist.

I asked him to repeat that. He smiled and said it once again. The piano wasn’t fake, it just didn’t exist in this reality.

I laughed and asked “the good ol’ magician to show me the hat once again, as I can probably see the hare from right here”. Then he came to the piano and his hand went right through its surface. He asked me to play it once again, and I felt the solid wood and bone under my fingers. He was standing near, smiling. He said, he didn’t want me to believe him. It wasn’t about belief at all. He said, I have to answer for my dreams now. And the next thing I know I just woke up.”

“So here I am”, she smiled slightly, looking far away. “Keep looking for something to prove whether I’m sleeping or not. Look, we’re back at the Koloss!”

She reached the same column she’d liked yesterday. I came closer.

“But who was the Old Man?”
“It was the Great Prometheus himself.”
“What?”

“That’s the funny thing. Especially after all the placebo thing, right? Prometheus isn’t a myth. Well, it’s not a fairytale, at least. I can’t say if he exists, but he isn’t something one made up hundreds of years ago.”

“And how about giving people a fire? And all the eagle stuff?”
“He gave us a fire. It’s our dreams. You see, he told us how to light up our own mind. How to enlighten it and see not just something we can touch, but something we can imagine. It changed everything. He gave us the most important fire – the one that led us to all the other lights we know now. And the ones we’ve already forgotten, as well.

As for the eagle… I don’t know. Maybe it’s some kind of punishment from forces we don’t know, maybe it’s just his conscience that tortured him as we wasted the light we were given. It’s probably wrong to judge him as a human being, but I’d be disappointed if I was him. Just imagine – you give away the light that can shine, and we’re using it to decieve each other, harm each other, kill each other. To get rid of people around us. And worst of all, we’re trying to reach the state of the universe, not even knowing how to be a stars. We’re too selfish. We’re seeking for too much. “

“And you know”, she suddenly looked at me,”you know what? Even if all this world is fake, even if it’s just a made-up illusion, a placebo we’re taking daily – we still produce enough light to make it a real world. Something worth itself. How do we know if we didn’t pass the point when fake becomes a truth, just because it’s everything that matters?“

She went silent, still staring at me. It felt like she was about to start crying again.
“Are you alright?”

“Yes, it’s fine”, she replied, coming a bit closer.  ”Look, there’s something with the Koloss, right behind you…”

“What?”, I asked as I turned.

“I’m so sorry“, she whispered.

When I turned back, there was nobody around.

I still remember her eyes. Her hair. Every single moment I’ve seen her is precious for me.

But most of all, I remember her eyes. The only real thing that happened to me ever since.

The only thing real enough.