The Painter of Dreams

Have you ever experienced in your life, a dream that unfolds like a movie? Most dreams are like that, you might say, but what if it is a series of dreams over seven consecutive nights, each one continuing where the previous one ended?

"That's impossible," I hear you say. "No one can experience such a thing. Maybe for two nights it's likely to happen, but seven nights? I don't think so.”

That’s precisely what happened to a man called Charlie Garcia, from Buenos Aires, Argentina, who worked as a bus conductor for 26 years. One night, after the late shift, having argued with all those unruly young people who were not willing to pay for the ride, he came home hungry and exhausted. Charlie gobbled his sandwich, put the TV in standby mode, and fell asleep.

Then the first dream in the sequence started. He found himself living in a skyscraper somewhere on the outskirts of his home city. The landscape was barren: no trees, no grass, just bare ground and a small river winding around the place. There were no houses around; the city was a distant presence, but in his surroundings, only the skyscraper was there. A small hill that looked more like a pile of ashes was next to the building. There were no roads, car parks, or automobiles, just the 25-floor skyscraper, with Charlie living on the 21st. His apartment looked cozy though, much nicer and more modern than his house, where he lived in his waking life. He had a beautiful view of Buenos Aires in the distance, which didn’t look much like its counterpart in reality.

Charlie had a vivid memory of his dream the whole day afterwards, and he thought it would be nice to have such an apartment in the suburbs. He didn’t like the scenery though, but it was a good trade: his current busy estate with his poor bungalow for the dream's barren area with the skyscraper and a lovely modern apartment.

For a moment, it seemed logical to him to have a similar dream the second night, but he was confused when he woke up afterwards. It was the same skyscraper and the same apartment, with the same barren area around it, but now there was a road to the city and a car park with a couple of people living in the building. He was happy to have neighbours and hoped they were nice and that they would get along well.

In the evening, before the third night, he thought that it might be nice to have a similar dream the next night just to see how things would unfold, but he thought it was unlikely to happen. To his surprise, he found himself again at the same place with the same people; now there were many more of them, and the scenery was more beautiful. They had planted a couple of trees, there was a kids' park, a quayside by the river, and the hill was no longer barren but full of greenery. The whole place was abundant and nice just like in a dream.

He decided to talk about this series of dreams with his neighbour Pablo, who was a painter and asked him if he could paint his dreamy skyscraper. Pablo agreed, but only in case he had the same dream the next night. Charlie said he would meet him the next day to confirm and give more for his painting.

The fourth dream was also about the skyscraper. The neighbourhood was abundant with people; there was a nice swimming pool and lots of kids. The building now had its own radio station called “Joker Radio”, broadcast from the basement. He was sitting near the swimming pool, having a glass of his favourite cocktail - Mojito - and listening to a DJ speaking some service news. Everything was nice and sunny. People were happy and cheered.

When he informed Pablo that the dream was there the next day, Pablo said he would paint four pictures, one picture for each dream. “What if I have the same dream the next night?” “I’ll paint the fifth picture then.” Charlie was convinced that this wouldn’t stop the next night. Pablo told him to book a place for him in the skyscraper, where he would fit his atelier. “I will as soon as I meet the landlord or the caretaker.”

Instead, of the caretaker, in the next dream he met the most beautiful woman. She was so lovely, that he fell in love immediately. Her name was Alina and lived on the fifth floor.

“Why did I meet you only in my dreams. Where are you in the real life?”

“You silly thing. This is the real life.”

When he spoke to Pablo about Alina, the painter was unsure how to paint her face. He just said she’s the most beautiful in the world. But "world beautiful" doesn’t mean the same for all people. What was beautiful for Charlie wasn’t that beautiful for Pablo.

“You can paint her without showing her face. I will add it myself from my memory.”

“That’s not how paints work. What you see is what you get. You can’t add or remove anything.”

They agreed that Pablo would paint her face from his own view of beauty, and if Charlie didn't like it, he would make a new painting. Then Charlie would choose between the two. 

The sixth night, Charlie was on the hill, under the oak tree, sitting with Alina and watching the skyscraper. Cars were buzzing around, but they didn't mind the sound. He asked her to move in with him. She said she would think about it, but it’s better if he moved down to the fifth floor as she doesn't like the height.

“What do I do with my apartment then?”

“You can lend it to Pablo. He said he would like to move in with his painting studio.”

Charlie was happy to inform Pablo the next day that he had gotten an apartment for himself. The only thing was that it’s on the 21st floor.

Pablo said: “That’s ok. I’ll have a better view of the sky. Besides, we will remain neighbours. I think you told me you’re on the same floor.”

“I’m moving with Alina. She’s on the fifth.”

“That’s alright. We’ll still be neighbours. I hope there is an elevator.”

“To be honest, I haven’t seen one. I never knew how I reach the 21^st floor.”

Charlie had no idea that the seventh night would be the grand finale—or just how spectacular it would turn out to be. He was so enthusiastic about his dreaming that he hoped it would continue on and on, at least until he got bored. But things rarely unfold that way. Just as the dream had appeared suddenly, it vanished just as abruptly.

He didn’t hear sirens in his dream—otherwise, he would have woken up. The only thing he heard was a voice on the radio, urging everyone to leave the building immediately because an earthquake was about to strike. Suddenly, he found himself on a hill, watching a skyscraper collapse. Everything was vanishing in a cloud of dust. A group of firefighters was evacuating people from the area and guiding them across the river to a refugee camp, where they were given blankets to warm up, along with fresh water and food.

The radio Joker was still playing his favourite song—About a Girl by Nirvana. When he woke up, the same song was playing on his real-life radio. Then he heard the phone ringing—it was Pablo, inviting him in for a morning coffee.

“It’s a disaster, Pablo. An earthquake hit and turned everything to dust. And the worst part is, I never saw Alina again.”

“Don’t worry,” Pablo said. “It was just a dream. Your paintings are ready.”

He showed him the seven paintings. The first one depicted a skyscraper in a barren landscape, with nothing around it except a hill. The second showed the same hill, now with more greenery, and the skyscraper in the background. The third was a view from his window, where the city appeared in the distance beneath a dreamy blue sky. The fourth painting featured a man who looked like Charlie, lounging lazily in a chair and sipping a cocktail. The fifth was a portrait of a woman who looked exactly like Alina. The sixth painting showed a couple sitting on the hill, gazing into the distance, and the skyscraper was again in the background. The seventh depicted the aftermath of the earthquake—a half-demolished building and the refugee camp on the other side of the river.  

Charlie was shocked. “How the hell did you know? I never told you about the earthquake. And Alina—she looks exactly like she does in my dreams.”

“That’s not Alina. That’s a portrait of my sister, Kelly. She lives in Italy now. Let me tell you a story about these pictures. When I was a kid, we lived on a farm on the outskirts of Buenos Aires. Life was good back then, and I really enjoyed it. Then, when I was ten, my parents decided to sell the farm and move to the city. I missed the old place terribly, even years later, so I often took the train back to the outskirts and spent time at the farm. I watched the workers demolish my old house and start building a skyscraper with 25 floors. At the time, I had already started studying painting, and I decided to paint my favourite landscape. The first painting—with the barren land—is from the period when the building was still under construction. When they finished the building and new residents moved in, I painted the second one. I became friends with a guy on the 21st floor who let me paint from his apartment—that’s how the third picture was born. He’s also the one in the fourth painting, enjoying a cocktail by the swimming pool. He appears again in the sixth painting, sitting on the hill with his girlfriend. I was supposed to give him that picture, but I never saw him again.”

“Was he killed in the earthquake?”

“No, silly—there never was an earthquake. The building is still there. I just never found the time to go back and meet him again.”

“So, how does Alina fit in?”

“I told you already—that’s my sister, Kelly. It’s her portrait. These seven pictures were part of my first solo exhibition. That portrait is the only one that stands out. It’s not a landscape, and it wasn’t painted on location like the others—it was done in my studio, with her posing for it.”

Charlie was even more puzzled.
“When did you paint all these pictures?”
“More than twenty years ago.”
“Then how did they all get into my dreams?”

“Beats me. I’m a painter, not a wizard. Maybe you attended my exhibition once and saw all the paintings. Now they’re resurfacing from your subconscious as poetic dreams.”

Charlie couldn’t recall ever visiting Pablo’s exhibition—it had taken place so long ago. Still, he accepted the explanation as logical. He had probably been there, seen all the paintings, and then dreamed about Alina and the skyscraper twenty years later. After this experience, he and Pablo became better friends. Charlie began visiting his exhibitions more often, but the dreams never reappeared.  

by Nemanja Milekic