"My four women from a dream”. Play on 7, 6, 5, 4 or 3 people. Nikolay Lakutin
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tomorrow evening, if that (indicates with a gesture the invitation to the acceptance of alcohol).
Yaroslav shrugs his shoulders.
Dimon leaves.
Yaroslav wipes the floor clean, takes away a rag and a milk carton. He takes off his t-shirt and unties the shoelace, while exuding growls and incomprehensible vocabulary. He takes off his other foot, picks up a book from the table, reads for a while, puts the book down, and goes to bed with a blanket over his head.
ZTM.
1st DREAM
Plays quiet lyrical music (Maxim Timoshenko "Traces", or something similar).
The room becomes light.
Yaroslav is asleep. Light air step slowly is Aida. Loose garments do not constrain her movements, on the contrary, they give her elegance and a special tenderness.
Aida walks across the room, trembling, holding her hand to her chest, looking around the room. Whirls. Her eyes appear sleeping Yaroslav. She clasps both hands to her chest, looks at the man with a tender look, and sits down next to him on the bed.
Yaroslav feels some excess pressure on the bed. The hand begins to feel the place of the supposed changes. His hand meets the contours of the body of Aida, who calmly observes what is happening.
The music stops.
Yaroslav realizes that he is not alone on the bed. He opens his eyes, jumps up with a wild yell, and falls off the bed at the other end.
YAROSLAV (in a whining voice): Well, where are the sticks? I think I broke a rib.
He holds his side, stands up, and does not look at the girl, thinking that he is imagining it.
AIDA (gently): Don't worry, it's just a small bruise.
Yaroslav slowly turns around at the voice. Cautiously looks at the girl, disperses the air with his hand, in front of his face, driving away the remnants of sleep. Shaking his head doesn't help. He crawls onto the bed and slowly creeps on his knees to the other side, where Aida is sitting. He raises his hand and starts poking her cheek with his finger.
JAROSLAV (trembling with fear voice): Yeah well eelke-where Palki. How is that even possible? Girl, are you alive? I mean, it doesn't seem like it to me? I mean, where, how?
Yaroslav sits down on the bed in complete confusion.
AIDA (affectionately): Hello, my good.
YAROSLAV (cautiously, nodding his head): …St.
AIDA (gently): no, Yaroslav, I am not alive…
YAROSLAV (screaming hysterically, jumping up on the bed): What? No? I'm dead, right?
AIDA (gently): Yarik, calm down, please. You're not dead, I'm not dead either, but you're dreaming about me now. You are sleeping.
Yaroslav narrows his eyes in disbelief. He creeps up to Aida and again pokes her in the cheek with his finger.
AIDA (gently): This is not a very pleasant feeling…
Yaroslav pulls back.
YAROSLAV: AND how can I make sure that we are really in a dream right now?
AIDA (gently): If people knew how to be aware of themselves in a dream, and what they can do here, they would not come back voluntarily.
YAROSLAV: Why?
AIDA (gently): you will Find out… But it's too early. My visit to you is not related to this question.
YAROSLAV: which ONE? Who are you anyway?
AIDA (gently): My name is Aida. I…
YAROSLAV: a Figment of my imagination?
AIDA (gently): Perhaps it is easier for me to agree than to explain what I really am, because this will inevitably lead to questions about who you are.
Yaroslav listens carefully, but does not understand very well. Straining his ears and eyes. Waiting for something, shaking his head.
YAROSLAV: Listen, what's your name?..
AIDA (gently): Aida.
YAROSLAV: Yes, here I am… as something apparently with dream… I can't figure out what's going on.
AIDA (gently): we have a little time, I will tell you. We have several of your favorite women. I am Aida – your first projection of the desired diva image. I have been living with you for a long time, but not in your head, but in your soul, so it is not possible to recognize me by logical conclusions. After all, love is not the mind, and even, in all conscience, not the heart. Love comes from the patrimony of the soul. And not only love for a woman or a man, for children or for the Motherland… Love for everything comes from one huge, vast area, which is impossible to touch and determine by eye.
YAROSLAV: and the love of money?
AIDA (gently): and the love of money is not even self-love, it is fear. Fear of losing what you have and not getting what you crave. Fear is my own brother, it is beautiful in its own way, and it lives just in the zone of mental hindrance, but this is not about it. I know you're longing for a man who's been looking for you for a long time, and I'll tell you a secret – he'll find you soon.
YAROSLAV: We are now talking about a betrothed, do I understand correctly?
AIDA (gently): it Sounds funny, but so be it. Yes, we are talking about her. Her soul yearns as much as yours. Soon, very soon, you will meet.
YAROSLAV: You know everything here, don't you?
AIDA (gently): And you know, you just don't remember…
YAROSLAV (incredulously): Well, then, tell me why I haven't been able to meet this one for so many years?
AIDA (gently): Why should I keep an answer about this, ask yourself why I chose this particular path. I tried to talk you out of it, but you insisted and I gave up.
YAROSLAV: I? What are you saying? When did I insist on spending half my life in agony and confusion?
AIDA (gently): It was not so long ago, Aranka… and not here. But I don't want to fill your head with questions that won't do you any good at this stage, but rather will be harmful. And our time is inexorably running out. I just wanted to see you, talk to you, and of course help you. Even though it is forbidden to us.
YAROSLAV (hurriedly, nervously): so help, help quickly, you say yourself, time is running out. Come on, tell me what to do. Where to go? Where to meet? How will I recognize her?
AIDA (gently): Silly… why, I've already told you everything…
Aida gets up from the bed and slowly moves back in the direction of movement, without taking her eyes off Yaroslav.
YAROSLAV (hurriedly, nervously): where Are you going? Wait? No! Not now. Stay a little longer… Please don't go!
AIDA (gently): You will meet soon, Yaroslavushka… (quietly) soon…
A short musical motif sounds the same as when Aida appears.
Yaroslav stretches out his hands in the direction of the retreating lady, who hides the features of the characters.
ZTM.
HOUSE
Morning. Yaroslav wakes up and stretches. She sits on the bed and looks around the room. He goes to a pile of things, rummages through it, selects a cleaner t-shirt, sniffs.
YAROSLAV (in an appreciative tone): OK!
Puts on this shirt, takes socks from another pile of things, performs the same olfactory analysis.
YAROSLAV (in an appreciative tone): they still look Like that.
He pulls on his socks.
She sits on the bed, scratches her neck, and looks disapprovingly at her room.
YAROSLAV: Actually, of course, you can't do that. I don't have time to do all this myself, and I don't want to. We need someone to handle this…
Yaroslav takes the newspaper from the table, looks at the ads. Leafs.
YAROSLAV: