Oh, God, what a beautiful dream I had! It was one of the two dreams which have recurred all through my life but which I had not had for a very long time.
It was summer, not far from the house (which I don't remember).
It was sunny, with a little breeze. I was out walking, and walking somehow rather fast, as if heading somewhere specific. But I was following a path I had never been along before. And immediately I came to a most beautiful, wonderful place, a paradise. Overgrown with all sorts of different, untended flowers. In the distance I could hear screams, as if someone was struggling in the grass—fighting, moaning. It sounded almost like a battle to the death.
I went on along the wonderful forest path, round a corner, and into a field, and came upon children fighting at the roadside. Village children. A young woman, or girl, was sitting at the side of the road busy with something. I said to her, 'They're going to kill each other.' 'You don't have to worry! You don't have to worry about the girl, go on, go on, never mind, they won't kill each other.' Or something in that vein.
Someone came out of the bushes, I think an elderly woman, and poured a whole lot of berries— large ones, not quite ripe, they looked like raspberries—into the cupped skirt of the younger one.
I went on. It was not at all a long walk. I glanced to the right, and stopped—at my feet was a precipice.
Down below was a broad, clean, beautiful river, its surface covered in ripples, and on the far bank grass, and a leafy, cosy wood. It was peaceful and silent! How was it that I had never been to this place before! I lay down in the grass at the very edge of the precipice.
In front of my eyes—along the path—was fresh grass, a little meadow covered in blue flowers, perhaps hemp; and beyond that the picture rounded off in a darkish area—partly of pine?—while at the far end of the meadow grew two enormous flowers (in the background, but looking as if they were right in front of my eyes, and resembling the violets that grow on my windowsill); at the edge of the wood was an old, dead fir tree, which stood out but somehow did not spoil the landscape. A little to the right, through the trees, I glimpsed the convex brick wall of some ancient building, not very obvious, either a tower or a rounded wall.
Silence. Sunshine; flowers; breeze; cool; peace! I lay there, looking in front of me at that amazing scene, my whole being filled with a sense of happiness attained . . .
Andrei Tarkovsky, Time Within Time: The Diaries (1970-1986). Diary entry of July 9th, 1979.
Ina Budryte (b.1957) lives and works in Vilnius, Lithuania.
INA BUDRYTE →
BLACK TREE SWAYS
Oh, God, what a beautiful dream I had! It was one of the two dreams which have recurred all through my life but which I had not had for a very long time.
It was summer, not far from the house (which I don't remember).
It was sunny, with a little breeze. I was out walking, and walking somehow rather fast, as if heading somewhere specific. But I was following a path I had never been along before. And immediately I came to a most beautiful, wonderful place, a paradise. Overgrown with all sorts of different, untended flowers. In the distance I could hear screams, as if someone was struggling in the grass—fighting, moaning. It sounded almost like a battle to the death.
I went on along the wonderful forest path, round a corner, and into a field, and came upon children fighting at the roadside. Village children. A young woman, or girl, was sitting at the side of the road busy with something. I said to her, 'They're going to kill each other.' 'You don't have to worry! You don't have to worry about the girl, go on, go on, never mind, they won't kill each other.' Or something in that vein.
Someone came out of the bushes, I think an elderly woman, and poured a whole lot of berries— large ones, not quite ripe, they looked like raspberries—into the cupped skirt of the younger one.
I went on. It was not at all a long walk. I glanced to the right, and stopped—at my feet was a precipice.
Down below was a broad, clean, beautiful river, its surface covered in ripples, and on the far bank grass, and a leafy, cosy wood. It was peaceful and silent! How was it that I had never been to this place before! I lay down in the grass at the very edge of the precipice.
In front of my eyes—along the path—was fresh grass, a little meadow covered in blue flowers, perhaps hemp; and beyond that the picture rounded off in a darkish area—partly of pine?—while at the far end of the meadow grew two enormous flowers (in the background, but looking as if they were right in front of my eyes, and resembling the violets that grow on my windowsill); at the edge of the wood was an old, dead fir tree, which stood out but somehow did not spoil the landscape. A little to the right, through the trees, I glimpsed the convex brick wall of some ancient building, not very obvious, either a tower or a rounded wall.
Silence. Sunshine; flowers; breeze; cool; peace! I lay there, looking in front of me at that amazing scene, my whole being filled with a sense of happiness attained . . .
Andrei Tarkovsky, Time Within Time: The Diaries (1970-1986). Diary entry of July 9th, 1979.
Ina Budryte (b.1957) lives and works in Vilnius, Lithuania.