Introduction: The Author’s Inspiration
“My Dream and the Real Story of the Bird with Blue Blood – The inspiration for My Writing and Painting”
One night several years ago, I had a beautiful dream. In my dream, I saw myself as a bird, looking at an abstract, shaded spectrum with a beautiful shape inside it. A beautiful voice came from the colors, its cadence like notes of music tinkling in my ears.
“Do you know me? Do you know what color you are?” the voice asked.
I did not recognize the shape, because the light surrounding it was very bright, but the voice has stayed in my mind ever since.
“No,” I said, “but you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
The voice said, “I am waiting for you, do not be late.”
“But how will I know I am talking to you?” I replied.
“You will know it’s me; I will tell you that I like the color blue.”
“I will find you, I promise. I will never give up!” I shouted.
I woke up suddenly, my body filled with energy. “She is waiting for me!” I shouted, “She is going to tell me that she likes blue. I must find her!”
The next few months passed slowly, one after the other. Each morning gave me fresh hope that I would finally find her, but each night I did not only brought disappointment.
Her words repeated in my mind. “I will tell you I like the color blue. Do not be late.”
I shared my dream with my family and best friend. They mocked me, saying that I was insane to believe in a dream. But I knew it was real; a vision. I felt it in my bones.
As the days went by, I started to lose my patience and decided that I must do something. I wanted to find a way to communicate with people through my art, in the hope that it might help me find her.
I created seven paintings, each one an abstract portrait of a girl holding a flower. In all but one, there was no color. I hid the painting with the blue flower among the others, and photographed them to carry with me as I searched desperately to find the girl who would tell me she liked the color blue.
I started by showing those pictures to everyone who I met, never telling them what I hoped to hear. I showed my pictures to many different people—relatives, friends, and strangers I saw wherever I went. I asked the flight attendant on one of my journeys if she liked paintings, and when she said yes, I showed her the photos. In response, she said, “I like them,” but she did not say, “I like the color blue.”
The hope in my heart never died, but every day I did not hear those words became more difficult. One day, everything changed.
At Lakeland College, in one of my English classes, I met my fate, and she made me feel a way I have never felt before, filling my heart with peace.
A girl named Ksenia was one of my classmates. She seemed nice, but I was scared to even look at her. Every day, I planned to talk to her, but I always backed out; more shy and scared than I had ever been before. I wanted to ask her if she liked blue, but whenever I got close to her, I would lose my courage. My eyes avoided her whenever she looked at me, but when she looked away, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
One time, I busied myself by pretending to read some blank paper in front of me, but I glanced at her and saw her smiling at me.
I gathered myself, and asked her, “Do you like paintings?”
After a moment of silence, she replied, “I like the color blue.”
The world froze in front of me. I opened my eyes wide, choking with excitement. Had she really said she liked blue, even before I had showed her the picture?
I kept looking into her eyes. When uncontrollable tears touched the white sheets of paper on my desk, I finally broke the silence. “You are the one!” I shouted. “I have been looking for you for a long time, and I have found you at last. You are the dream that has been growing in my soul.”
All my classmates and my English teacher just stared.
Embarrassed, I left the class, but I was as happy as if I was a bird flying high in the sky.
The next time I saw her, I gave her a painting, “A Flower in the Beautiful Shade of Blue.”
“Ksenia,” I said, handing it to her, “this is for you.”
Our whole class stared, confused.
“Did you draw this?” she asked.
“Yes, because you said that you like blue.”
Our classmates gathered around her, curious to see the painting.
I was happy, but another strange feeling rose in my heart, filling the world around me with darkness and fear. I left the class to sit in the lobby.
Soon, Ksenia followed me, coming to sit beside me. I told her about my dream and all the difficulties I had had in my journey to find her. I told her that she was the reason for my existence, and that I had been painting her every day but destroying the paintings after I finished them as I felt she was from a different world. I told her I had kept my promise and looked for her.
Sudden warm tears fell on my hand, and I remembered my dream and what the voice had said: “I am waiting for you. Do not be late.”
Just then, I heard someone calling her. It was a man.
She leaned over the table and said sadly, “You came late.” Without another word, she got up and left, but her eyes locked with mine, saying, “I love you. I want to go with you.”