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Vladivostok
Copyright 2009 Christina M. Guerrero
This is the inspiration for The Englishman
“Gotta write the story behind that dream.”
This thought nagged at me for a while. I’d remember the dream, intend to write something, then forget.
Then the process would start all over again.
Finally, when I had time, I reviewed the dream: I was standing on a hill at night, looking down toward a small city. An odd, strong breeze blew things about. Something unusual had happened. Behind me and to my left was a large house where I was expected. But how could I be expected if the place was dark? And there were a few people walking around.
That was it. I had the dream several times, thought it was oddly comforting, and thought about writing a short story based on the little scene.
I started the project with a question: What’s the deal with standing on a hill at night? But that was a silly question. I’ve stood on many hills, and I’ve been outside at night. And I’ve stood on hills at night. Perhaps the dream was a composite of those experiences.
What about the city? Was it also a composite, or a memory, or a real place? I liked it. It sloped down the hill. At the bottom, the buildings curved from my right to my left, then faded into an unknown substance. There were no lights on in the houses and buildings around me and on the hill. In the distance, just a few lights were visible in or on a few buildings.
Despite the lack of illumination, the place felt cozy and safe. I’d have the dream, and turn toward the dark house, and start walking towards it, toward whomever or whatever was expecting me.
Based on these details, several story ideas came to mind: The main character’s car broke down, and he/she had to walk home, uphill, to the house, to a family waiting for him or her. Or the character had finished work and was walking home. Or the character was simply admiring the view.
I had to think about it. I went about my business for several months, and let the dream and the story ideas simmer.
Then, late one night, while doing research on the Internet, I typed “Vladivostok” into Google. I’d been studying the Trans-Siberian Railway and hadn’t yet looked up the far eastern destinations of the train.
I read a few paragraphs on a few sites. I looked at a few photos. And as I examined one of the photos, I said, “Awesome.”
The image was a reverse, daytime version of my dream.
After a few more clicks, I found a photo of Vladivostok taken at night, from one of its hills, looking toward its bay. This matched the scene in my dream. Even more awesome.
Perhaps the dream was a memory of something I’d read or seen about the city? Maybe. But until I did the Internet research, I hadn’t seen any modern detailed photos of Vladivostok, only a few from Soviet times.
I spent too much time on the Internet that night, viewing picture after picture of Vladivostok, feeling delighted and surprised that my dream resembled an actual place. The bay explained the odd breeze: near large bodies of water, air feels fresher and more powerful and smells saltier.
There was probably a story in there somewhere, but once again, I put the project aside. I was busy with other projects. Also, I was wondering about the lack of lights in the city, and in the house where the character was going, and couldn’t figure out an explanation for that.
Several weeks later, while flipping through “Lonely Planet - Trans-Siberian Railway” I said, “Oh, so that explains it.”
According to that book, in its section about Vladivostok, there are frequent power outages in the city during the winter.
I thought about my dream, and was able to remember details that now made sense: there were no lights and it was nighttime, but life was going on. During the first few times I had the dream, my dream self thought “How are we going to eat and bathe and spend time together? Oh ... candles,” but only in a vague way. I remembered the odd strong breeze, which was rustling branches and papers on the street, and whatever was in the distance -- water, as I discovered. And weren’t there flickers of light -- in the buildings, indicating candles, and outside, indicating flashlights? I think so.
So was it a memory of something I had read and forgotten? A composite of several experiences and images? Subconscious creativity filling in the details?
Maybe all three.
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