The next morning we were sitting in the park near the house. We spread colored pebbles on a bench. The one I had in my hand looked like a turtle shell or crocodile skin.

In a moment of revelation near the Musical Comedy Theater, I bragged to Reed that I had saved a decent amount of money in recent years. I had no idea that on the second day of this bad training, Reed would ask me to bring all my money to his apartment for a practical assignment.

The other stone was light pink and resembled bubblegum candy.

The assignment was to wander around the district at night with all my money.

Then I was looking at a chipped rock that glowed like marble inside.

He also had a route in mind for the night walk.

Reed sat so close that his shoulder was touching mine and showed me the map on his phone screen.

1. Down Stakhanovskaya Street from Reed’s house as a departure point
2. Cross Vaneeva Street, head towards the “Tractor” stadium.
3. Go to Dolgobrodskaya street through the amusement park.
4. Pass through the wild part of the park.
5. Go around the Minsk bearing plant to get to another part of the 50th Anniversary of October park.
6. There, the park paths make a star. Come right in the middle of it and wait for the dawn.

I glared at the star on the map. From my angle, the star looked like a pentagram.

I was ready to laugh, but shook my head disappointedly, calling myself a fool in my own mind. To my question why Reed answered that it was impossible to continue the training without this practical assignment.

The back of my neck felt cold as if many little needles pierced my body. I realized how thoughtless I was to have spent a thousand dollars on this. I felt very ashamed of being so easily deceived.

I looked furtively at Reed. He was waiting for an answer staring into my eyes.

How brazen of him. Now he is probably going to tell me about my sick attachment to money.

This rascal thinks he’s a master. He thinks that I’m going to make a fuss and demand a refund. Then he’s going to flip me off and complete the scam in just two days instead of the promised ten.

He won’t dare. The bastard will work off every coin I gave him.

Thus, I returned the same brazen look and agreed.

I was thinking what to do as I stood over the bed with stacks of cash in my room at my parents’ house.

Should I take half with me and leave the rest with a farewell letter to my parents? Yes. One should praise sanity and encourage caution.

Or should I spend it all down in one day?

There was some sinking sensation inside of me. I got angry as soon as I remembered his arrogant rat face. Despite being a suspicious neurotic, I suddenly felt that I wanted to give myself over to an adventure and prove to this lousy Buddhist that I am not emptiness, but a real somebody.

I will surprise him when I come back. I’m not going to give up easily. I will go with a feeling like I don’t care at all about my own life and that money. This is a dangerous feeling.

I rerecorded the timer message, explaining to my parents in great detail on whom they should take revenge if I went missing. Then I put all the money in my Abalakov backpack, hid the folding bowie knife in my sock and that very lighter in my pocket. I even called for a cab, which I had never done before for economic reasons — adrenaline affected me so.

‍

The cab driver kept looking at me through the rear view mirror. At the end of the ride he asked me if I was okay and if I needed any help. I said, “No,” and got out of the car.

The cab driver didn’t leave, and I deliberately went into the wrong entrance to wait for him to disappear. When the cab left, I looked around and ran into the entrance I needed, climbed up the stairs, and froze in front of Reed’s door.

A picture of tall bulls in leather jackets waiting for a fool with money on the other side of the door popped into my head.

There were no bulls and Reed told me I could do anything I wanted before my practical assignment began.

Of course, the rascal didn’t even plan to prepare additional assignments for me. He was playing the xylophone, putting empty glass vessels around him, and looking through them without paying any attention to me. I became indignant at his conceited look.

I think I’m capable of murder. Even my granny frequently said that I had a desperate character.

I kept an eye on my backpack full of money and didn’t eat or drink anything that Reed offered to me. Instead I sat in my chair and leafed through Bardo Thedol, repeating paragraphs that I especially liked: ‘It is our own nightmares and biting conscience that threatens and can tear us apart. Yet the source of formidable creations is within us. If you are not intimidated, the creation is powerless, its threats are unattainable. Step forward and embrace, kiss the bloody maw, and the visions will disappear!’

‘Will you go dressed like this?’
      ‘Yes.’

I intentionally took clothes from home that wouldn’t draw attention on the street: a black baseball cap, a turtleneck, tight sweatpants, and sneakers with a white swoosh. You don’t approach people like that on the street because they approach you first.

‘Wear a blouse with ruffles.’
      ‘Jabot?’

I shook with anger but agreed to change clothes.

Does he want me to be detained by the police? Or to not let the bulls in leather jackets confuse me with anyone else? Or to draw more attention from strangers and make sure I wear myself out with obsessive thoughts, or...

At ten to twelve I stood at the door all ready for the night out. I wore polished shoes, smart pants, and my jabot shirt. When I was about to leave, Reed held out his hand to me and said in a soft tone:

‘Don’t forget to turn on geolocation for me. And be as scared as you can.’

I shook his hand, took my backpack with the money and walked out.

Per our agreement with Reed, the geolocation was set to work for eight hours. I cautiously peeked out of the entrance and looked around.

There was no one outside. I didn’t see any bald heads peeking out from the corners, no one was hiding behind the bushes or cars as well. The lights in the mermaid cafe were off.

Full moon. Warm night. You could hear the railroad rumbling nearby. In the windows in the apartment complexes near the road, people were safely getting ready for bed. I could only distinguish noises of the city somewhere far away, but not here; these streets of the Tractor Plant were silent. And it smelled like summer.

I stepped on the pebbles and heard them rustle softly under my shoes. There was nowhere I could hide on the curb; the narrow street made me feel as if I was under a spotlight.

‘Let them attack me,’ I said to myself.

The breeze blew the flaps of my jabot. I was irresistible in that very moment in my own eyes. Who else was walking at night in an elegant outfit with the 0000 contents in their bag? My look was real. I was enjoying the beauty and insecurity of my practical assignment. I was not tormenting myself with thoughts about what comforts I could deprive myself of by losing everything. Why to hold on to a life that makes one feel sick? The novelty of my experience helped me breathe easier.

Road signs, car bodies, asphalt, and dark windows were illuminated in the orange glow of the streetlights. I felt like I wanted to fall in love. But I wasn’t in love with anyone. With that melancholy, I walked, keeping a medium pace. Not for a second did I forget about the possibility of being followed.

I looked back three times and ran across the road, approaching the educational institution “Specialized Lyceum of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of the Republic of Belarus” which was abbreviated and read in Belarusian as “mousse.” I imagined how sweet my illusory lover could be eating a berry dessert.

There was no one at the intersection with Koshevoy Street. Only the moon followed me. 

I had such a low opinion of myself that I knew once I got to the Primordial Light, I would not be able to realize that I was dead and would not say to the emptiness, "You are me" to free myself from the circle of rebirth. So I had no choice but to flounder between life and death, and turn into a spineless creature in the next Bardo. 

The street looked exactly like in the Soviet photographs. I am the creator of all scary things in this mystical Epiphany.

The lights in the windows went out by the minute, only the blue-and-white TV screens continued to flicker. There was nobody at the intersection of Budyonny street either. The broad Vaneeva Street that I needed was only a couple of buildings away. However, there were fewer and fewer streetlights along the way. 

I clenched my teeth, pulled the strap of my backpack tightly, and stepped into the darkness of the courtyard.

‘What is this turmoil inside me? Where has my 'pointless mood' gone, and why have I become scared all of a sudden?’ 

My eyes were staring somewhere beyond the reach of the streetlights, my ears were catching the slightest noise, and my feet were ready to run. I heard a terrible roar coming from the courtyards. Those were screams of drunken youth, but I thought they were screaming for me. Something aggressive was screaming from over there and this something was prowling around to find me. I mumbled lines from the Bardo Thedol prayerfully: 

‘Don't be frightened! Nothing can harm you, because you do not exist! Therefore, you can become whatever you want. Become this Sound, respond to it. These mirages are you!’

I did not even notice that  I was running; then I lost my way until I found myself on Vaneeva Street in front of a large nine-story building. It seemed as huge as the high-rise Ministry of Internal Affairs on Volodarskaya Street. With my mouth open, I couldn't take my eyes off the windows. The staircase and balconies glowed with green light that you would see in a hospital. People in twos and threes could be seen on the balconies. None of them were looking at me; they were busy smoking cigarettes and talking to each other.

I abstracted myself from the outside world, peering into the sickly green light of the balconies as dim as goblin skin. That light made the people look like goblins. Were they savoring the moment together?

I turned my head – on the other side of the road, a traffic light shone right in my eyes. Twenty-four bright emerald seconds. It was a dead moment stretched out in time. My ears started ringing as if a sudden clap had turned on a loud refrigerator in my head. I was repeating lines from the fifth day in Chönyi Bardo: ‍

‘A bright green glow mixed with the dim greenish light of Jealousy and Envy. The dim green light leads into a world of eternal enmity and the slaughter of evil giants. Your path will be interrupted in a long and most unfortunate way. Look right into the glittering flames!’

I rushed across the street, desperately staring at the bright green light. The Tractor Stadium bus stop. A  construction site. A path turning right. The next thing I know I am running up the hill toward the amusement park, still playing Reed’s game and following the route. 

I stopped on the hill to let my shaking body catch its breath and look down at the moonlit stadium. 

Outside the football field, “Kukla Kolduna” was coming from the Shelton sports bar. I looked around but saw no one. Gorshok finished the ballad with the lines: ‘Everything happens like in a bad dream. And it's dangerous for me to stay here!’ I snorted and headed up the hill toward the 50th Anniversary of October Park. My attack of sudden fear was already decreasing.

In the park one could take a ride at the autodrome, go swinging on the somersault “Clowns”, ride on the “Pookie Swing”, or whirl in the plastic seashells “Waltz”. All of these attractions were the color of saffron, an effect produced by the contrast between the street lantern lights and the ultramarine sky like in the blue-orange Hollywood Transformer movies. Trees cast cobweblike shadows on fences and signs with names of attractions. There were cracks in the asphalt like after an earthquake. 

Passing the attractions, I walked out to an amphitheater with a wooden stage, a brick blue wall, and audience benches. In front of the stage, there was a flag stand that looked like an anti-tank hedgehog or a sea mine. The stage was fenced off with a rope with red and white polyethylene tape bows and a sign that said, ‘Beware. The stage is in emergency condition. To avoid accidents, no one is allowed on the stage!’

Despite the late hour the empty stage was illuminated by a large white lamp. My shoes clopped on the wooden steps. 

‘Greetings, ladies and gentlemen! I am an anguished stranger who has persuaded himself to suffer. You have to be strong to suffer, only the weak hide in amusement. They would not last a day under the weight of my melancholy!’

I heard a noise from the side of the stage. I turned around in anticipation of the bulls in leather jackets, but saw a girl in the shadows. 

I decided that this was a temptress-messenger.

The moment you sink into the vanity mire, the scum is always right there.

The devil woman got up on the stage and started walking towards me gently. Smiling and carefree. She wanted to get to know me, inspired by the amusing coincidence. 

I replied to myself with the lines from Bardo Thedol: 

‘Don't be seduced! That comes out of you too, don't be seduced.’

I noticed the respected casual fashion brand logo on her and decided not to look in her direction anymore, especially not at her face. The devil woman froze a few steps away from me. 

I uttered the following: 

‘If you are frightened, walk towards danger and fear. Reject beauty and push away tenderness. It is better to follow the stench than to be tempted by the sweetness of the fragrance.’

Without looking at her, I walked silently toward the exit of the amphitheater. 

It was quiet.  She was just standing behind me, it seemed, and looked at my back. Or maybe she didn't look like a beautiful girl any longer, and turned into a bogeywoman with a long snake neck. 

It's a shame to live in a world where everything is made up by a voice in your head and where you can't pull a devil woman to you and leave a kiss on her lips.

I walked out onto the walkway, suffocating from tension and embarrassment, and went on to the sound of “I'm going all in Dolce Gabana.” 

There was a holiday celebration at Cafe Hazar, which looked like a summer house. I hoped that the devil woman would not dare to pursue me. I could still see her interested smile before my eyes. I wanted to hide. I went inside, quickly found the toilet, slammed the door, and finally caught my breath. 

The time was nearing one o'clock. I opened my backpack, looked at the money, and embraced it. There were no pills at hand to dull the fear, so I decided to buy an espresso at the bar. The room was like a paradise made of artificial flowers. Women with round bellies in square dresses and rectangular knee-high boots were dancing in the room. “You got me, you blinded me, You brought me to the doorstep, but you didn't give me love. You got me, you seduced me...” 

Disco lights flooded the dance floor with rainbow colors and reflected in the white mirrors and metal café chairs. The bright glare flashed through my mind when I was paying for the coffee at the bar, causing me to remember the following from Bardo Thedol: 

‘On the sixth day all the flames will light up before you. The main elements shine like this: Water, Earth, Fire, and Air.  All together they will appear before thee. Don't you dare choose!’

I drank the shot of espresso in one gulp and stepped into the disco lights. I turned my face toward the laser colors to absorb their light. White. Yellow. Red. Green. 

I was caught off guard at the most intimate moment when the geometric women hooked me with their arms and pulled me into their world. They raised dancing fists, stomped their feet, and laughed with their mouths wide open. 

I broke free from their clinging hands and rushed from the cafe through the park to the streetcar tracks on Dolgobrodskaya Street, looking back to see if the devil woman was still following me.

I was tempted to call a taxi when I reached a dark wild park on the other side of the road. I didn't want to get there at all.

I ran across the road and followed the path into the darkness of the forest. I made sure not to turn on my flashlight to avoid drawing attention to myself. Thick trees surrounded me like a gang of hooligans trapping a nerd. The street lantern light still reached me through branches. I went deeper and deeper into the woods. Not daring to stop and let my eyes adjust to the darkness, I tiptoed along the path almost blindly. There was less than a kilometer left to get to the pentagram and stay there until dawn. 

I spotted a black skinny man walking on high legs in the trees. It is just a pine, which doesn't stand still and moves around. 

The darkness was changing the surroundings before my eyes. There were many black shadows among the trees. The Buddha-Heruka, the Buddha of Manhood. Krotishvarima, Lady of Femininity. All of them were described in the Bardo as monsters and beings from the hellish worlds: 

‘Foxheads... Tigerheads... On this day many terrifying deities will appear before you. Increasingly horrible in appearance, the nightmare gets more frightening, where we fall as if into a mire, failing to recognize the Signs and Images.’

The survivor in me demanded to control, watch, and see everything. With a heavy sigh I lowered my eyes to look at the road and immediately raised them again. I couldn't help but stare at the phantoms. Back, forward, right, left, back, forward. The phantoms were blurry, but I imagined them so quickly that the outlines loomed colorfully and clearly. I whispered: 

‘Don't be afraid! You cannot be killed, you cannot be torn apart in the earthly sense. All these figures are creations of our Minds.’ 

I could hear the noise from the road in the distance. ‘This is not real. The noise of the road is. Probably.’ 

I ran with eyes forward, stumbling, until reaching the end of the forest, orange blinding streetlights, a tall factory wall, wild raspberries, and ferns. 

I would not go back there for anything in the world. 

I sat down among the ferns and leaned against the wall. I didn't feel comfortable sitting under the lanterns; the dark forest was right in front of me and anyone could be watching me from there.

A company of men in leather jackets were approaching me from the side of the factory. I wrapped the straps of the backpack around my wrist. My brain was thinking feverishly. 

‘If contact with them is inevitable, then… the knife is in my sock and the lighter is in my pocket.’

I waited until they came closer, glanced at them casually, and ducked into my phone as if I was a normal kid. 

Communication did take place. There were three men. The thick-skinned razorback with five wrinkles on his forehead spoke to me.

‘Do you have two rubles?’ 
      ‘No. If I did, I wouldn't be sitting here right now.’ 
      ‘And why are you sitting here, all dressed up like a bridegroom?’ 

The men sniggered.

‘I have been kicked out of the house.’
      ‘Oh, shit... Who did it, the wife?’

I said my parents kicked me out because I wanted to be a musician. 

The men were very satisfied by this turn of history. Their eyes lit up. They made whispering noises of approval.

‘Wow wow wow… What do you play? The guitar?’

I was worried that they could find a guitar and make me play it.

‘The xylophone.’ 
      ‘What's that? A rattle toy for kids?’
      ‘I have a professional xylophone. I dream of playing in the Indonesian Gamelan orchestra.’ 

I was brilliant. The sparks in the men's eyes went out. They weren't interested in me anymore. They stood for a minute or two, made a few jokes and walked off into the forest, straight to my monsters, creaking with their leather jackets.

The lanterns in the park were yellow and white, covered all over with night insects. 

It was 2 am. I checked the map, walked past the board of fame of the Minsk bearing plant, stepped onto a tiled path, and found myself at the bottom of the pentagram. My blue dot stepped off the path and went into the darkness of the trees.

The center of the pentagram was surrounded by tall trees. A small vacant lot and a young tree resembled the entrance to the Black Lodge from Twin Peaks. 

Of course, I was very afraid, but I couldn't leave before the break of dawn. I was obsessed with completing the task. 

For some reason I remembered a picture from a random stupid book on occult philosophy: a human figure lying in a pentagram with his arms and legs spread out. Suddenly, I threw a challenge at myself:  “If I don't lie down the same way, I'm a wuss, and chaos will consume me entirely.” So, I laid down on the ground and spread out my arms and legs, listening to the noises coming from the Partisan Avenue nearby. 

The location point was in the very middle of the pentagram. Bereft of my body, I was watching as if I had already died and was wandering in the Bardo. The sky with its orange vignette of city lights and stars put me to sleep, dark branches of the trees were swinging affectionately, the ground was holding me like a baby, and the wind was stroking my head. I was never alone because everything around me was alive, and I could get it from everywhere, even from every molecule. 

I lifted myself off the ground, rested my elbows on the backpack underneath me, and stared at one point in the darkness.

... Little white dots floated in the air and slowly began to clump together into a grainy cloud. A pixel picture. I had forgotten about it although I knew those dots were best visible in semidarkness. Apparently, I was used to seeing it only in my room, and I never thought I would see it in a park. I grabbed my phone automatically in search of a flashlight, but remembered the words from Bardo Thedol: 

‘Even your consciousness is unreal, it’s an obsession. You are an image in glass that catches itself!’

‘How so?’ I thought. ‘If the world around me is alive, why shouldn't the cloud exist apart from me?’ 

I was confused about who actually created who. What exists and what doesn't. Like hundreds of molecules. Like digital noise. Like vapor or radio magnetic waves visible in the dark. They were everywhere now. Everywhere I directed my gaze, I could see the pixels fluctuating in the air. Even still, the concentration of pixels was the greatest a few steps away. A white cloud hovered in the air, slowly chewing on itself. I was ready to see all kinds of things, but the cloud wasn't taking on anyone's appearance, it was just swarming like a bunch of little insects. 

‘Maybe throw some money at it?’ I thought. ‘No, nonsense... Or should I try?’

I opened my backpack, grabbed a bunch of money, swung, and threw it at the pixel cloud. The money went through and fell to the ground, glowing with white light against the black ground. 

Then I threw the Ozhegov dictionary at it. The book opened and flew into the pixel cloud like a bright bird, it landed on the ground with its dark cover and faded into the black ground.

A cute dog showed up with its tongue out and a goofy grin. I was just getting over the pre-infarction the sudden appearance of this animal gave me, when, after sniffing the money lying on the ground it ran right to me.

The pixel cloud did not disappear. It kept hanging in the air the whole time. 

I wanted to pet the dog's ear, but I got scared of fleas. The dog felt my squeamishness and just laid down next to me. I felt grateful for this living creature that understands everything although in its own doggy way. How could I think  that the dog was my imagination when it was so alive? 

I was so exhausted from running around and from my own emotions that I had already got used to the pixel cloud. 

Could this be my poor scary lover? I grimaced with a yawn and looked at the cloud again. It reminded me of the words from the last Sidpa Bardo:

‘If you are disgusted by an appearance, embrace and caress it.’  

What if the pixel cloud loves me the most? I was overcome with a bright sadness. I even imagined this noisy blob of pixels resting on my shoulder. But as I sensed the sexualized image, I remembered how rebirth happens in the last Bardo, and hurriedly stopped all my thoughts on copulating.  

The dog was snoozing pleasantly beside me, and I decided to take a nap too. I laid my head on my backpack and curled up on the ground. 

‘Thank goodness it's a warm night. I won't get sick.’ I thought and took one last look at the pixel cloud, which was almost disappearing in the first rays of dawn. When I opened my eyes, the lawn was already flooded with the morning light. The pixel cloud was gone. The dog ran away. A bunch of money laid on the ground. The dictionary was not there.

I regretted not petting the dog. It had saved me.