Мне нравится сочинять и рассказывать детям сказки. Самое трудное для меня – писать о себе. Это равносильно тому, как книга открывает сама себя. Но ведь её открывает читатель. Только он может что-то сказать о произведении и об его авторе. Я родилась на Донбассе. Украинские мелодии вошли в мою жизнь вместе с колыбельными песнями. А детство моё прошло в Орловском крае в городе Болхов. Увлечение фольклором и историей Орловского Полесья дали выход в свет в 2007 году книг “Болховские кружева времени” и “Поучительные сказки для детей и взрослых”. Имею высшее образование, тренер, преподаватель лечебной гимнастики. В 2013 году закончила Литературный институт им. А. М. Горького. В настоящее время пишу песни для детей Воскресной школы.
I find pleasure in writing and telling the children fairytales. The hardest thing for me is to write about myself. It is as if the book opens itself. But the reader is the one who opens the book. Only the reader can say something about the work and about its author. I was born in the Donbas. Ukrainian melody came into my life with lullabies. And my childhood passed in the Orel region – in the town Bolkhov. Passion for folklore and history of Orel’s marshy woodlands gave in 2007 the publication of books – “Lace time of Bolkhov” and “Cautionary tale for children and adults”. I have the higher education, coach, teacher of medical gymnastics. In 2013 I graduated from the Maxim Gorky Literature Institute. Currently I am writing songs for the Sunday School children.
Сказка “Приключения в кошачьем сне“
Do you think this is a tale? No, this is the flourish that flies before the tale and honks around the dale – fa-la-le-la! But be careful, before you read any further I want you to notice, my dear reader, that tales are usually told at night, while my neighbour tells stories in the morning, after a good a night sleep. He writes down these stories in a special book. He is not a scientist or professor, not at all. He is a true storyteller, though you wouldn’t think so from just looking at him. Small in stature, without a beard or moustache (children do not usually have them), he is dressed well dresses in a modern style, even fashionably. His name is Tarasik.
He tells stories so vividly as if he saw everything with his own eyes, as if he had been there and returned just now. When he talks he starts swinging his arms – this way and that, making various sounds at the same time – bo-boink, z-z-z, kh-kh, ta-da-da-da, BOOM! You might think he is some kind of actor on the theatre stage rehearsing for his performance.
His stories are incredible! For instance, he told me recently about his cat Whirret, about the trees that walk around, and about Halloey, who apparently works in the forest as an ambulance: one can call her and she will come right away. I was listening to him going on and on, and then couldn’t help asking how he came up with all these weird things.
“What do you mean, how?” Tarasik was surprised. “I saw it in my dreams! Bit by bit as long strings of events, that I roll into a ball and my Grandma uses it to knit a rug afterwards.”
“That is rubbish anyway – dreams, strings, rugs…” But when Tarasik’s Grandma presented me with a colourful round rug, somehow I started to believe him.
“This is, she said, for your dog Busya, so he sleeps well and doesn’t bark at night. Our Whirret just can’t sleep without a rug like this; he is afraid to get lost in his dreams.”
“Lost… in a dream?”
“Well, yes in his own, cat’s dream! Last time Tarasik barely managed to find him there.”
That is a fine kettle of fish! I don’t know about you, my dear reader, but I always wanted to find out what animals do in their dreams and where they go. I asked Tarasik to tell me more about that strange incident. And guess what? Not only he told me, but he also showed me a little performance. Curious about what was going on, people gathered around in the yard. Shortly there was no space for more, even the galleries were full and so the story started.
One Can Only See the Dream
When I was very young, I learned a secret. This secret was about me, or rather about how I came into this world. And I thought: “Well, this is my secret, and that means whatever happened to me must be different, completely different to what happened to other people.”
When I was small, smaller than my little finger, I was a happy little worm . Every day I crawled around a beautiful flower back and forth and dug earth, like a bulldozer . Eventually I got very tired and fell asleep. When I woke up I found out that I became a big-big beetle with golden wings on my back . I flew over a flower bed – z-z-z-z, and when I landed, I turned into a house . People who lived in that house were very noisy. They were constantly chatting. So disturbing, like flies buzzing – z-z-z-z , z-z-z-z . Every night this house was getting covered with a layer of sugar inside and outside. I tried to lick it off myself, but there was so much of it that the house quickly turned into a huge cake . Some people wanted to eat a piece of this yummy cake. They picked up spoons, forks, and some of them even – spades! I got scared. So the cake (that is I) grew legs and ran away. While I was running my arms grew and my head popped out . This is how I came into this world.
Don’t you believe me? No? Well, that is because a good while ago you forgot your secret. I have grown up as well (and my hand can reach the switch now), but I can still remember it. My secret resembles a sweet dream that usually comes in the morning, when Mum says, “Well, wake up, my sugar Sweety!” She always says that. My Mum is very smart. She was the first to work out that I had once been a cake.
I do indeed like sweets and I have sweet-sweet dreams. Every night I enjoy diving right into them! But after what feels like a moment later they start waking me up: “Tarasik-Seabassic! Get up! It is morning again.”
“Wait, wait a moment! I’ll just stay another while in this dream and then wake up!” I tell them.
A moment later, I come out from under the blanket, like a fingerling, and tell everyone what I have really seen in my dream.
“Well, you are making this up!” They say.
But can you really make up a dream? It can only be seen.
How I Learnt to Catch a Dream by its Tail
At first I didn’t remember any of my dreams. Stories about night adventures and flights over the clouds always surprised me. But I wanted to have dreams. Dreams like my Dad and I would drive a fast motorboat or glide down the sky with a parachute. I even (although reluctantly) agreed to have some dreams when I would have to go shopping for new clothes and shoes. My Mum said that it was her dream. But no matter how much I fantasized or tried to picture it before a night sleep – it didn’t work. After waking up I could not remember a thing. I listened to other people talking about last night dreams, but I never said anything. There was nothing to say.
One day my Grandma asked me:
“Why in the world didn’t you tell me that you see no dreams?” she was amazed. “It’s so easy, you know, to catch a dream by its tail.”
“Tail! By what tail?” I was surprised.
“By the dream’s tail! Each dream has a tail, something it ends with, a picture, for instance, or some words. So, this is what you need to hold and pull until you get your entire dream out.” She continued.
“Only then can it be remembered. If in your dream, for example, you are talking to somebody, so take the last words of that conversation and remember. Pull them like a string, and you will be get your dream again.”
Since then I remembered all my dreams caught by their tails. So many amazing things I have found out! One day I swam with a dolphin and the other day I landed on a Moon in a space shuttle. This worked so well that I soon turned into a chief dream-catching specialist. I started to go fishing for dreams. Zap-zap-zap! I would catch a few dreams and then pull them out.
The Most Interesting Dreams
Most of all I like weekend dreams, when no one hurries anywhere. Everyone lies in bed and hugs their blankets and pillows. A dream on such a day is very-very long. You can enter and exit such dream several times. But first, before you get there, you must wait for Slumber. My Grandma says “without Slumber you can never get into a dream.” And as you know she is a real expert. She would unscramble her dreams and talk for hours about the meaning of each of them. There are, she says, Monday dreams, which are very, very heavy, like big trucks. And there are light dreams like feathers, you wake up and they zing and fly out of the window.
But the most interesting dreams are those you wish for. There you can choose to see anything you want, even your favourite cartoon characters. You can go where no one has ever been before and see what nobody has ever seen before. My cat Whirret likes to walk in such dreams. He walks there day and night, from morning until night and from night until morning, at his own sweet will and when he is bored and has nothing to do. Being a domestic cat he has lots of time on his paws. All he can do is sleep and play, which is what he does all day long.
For his tricks this sneak won the title of the most ruffian cat long ago. When you look away from a plate of food, he cleans it in a flash. And he then looks at you with his honest green eyes and purrs!