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Chapter 4: The Dream

Nikola found herself at the balcony's railing, looking down upon the large foyer, waiting for the action to start. She knew that she had been here before, had done this before, but it still had an element of suspense. Despite the overwhelming sense of deja vu, she didn't know what to expect.

The marble-tiled foyer floor below her shined with reflected sunlight, streaming in through tall windows on either side of the main double doors. Nikola's eyes followed the smooth white surface to where it was interrupted by the stairs. Several dozen feet from where she stood, deep red carpet covered the broad stairway that flowed smoothly up the side wall to meet the balcony.

Nikola watched with fascination as a figure entered the foyer from one of the sets of doors opposite the stairway. She stood almost frozen, knowing, and yet not believing, that she was watching herself. She stared at the features of the woman below her, searching for some detail different from the image she saw in the mirror every day. But the figure displayed the same delicate bone structure, deep blue eyes and straight nose. Only the facial expression differed: Nikola had never seen resignation so ingrained into her face before.

The figure crossed the foyer automatically, apparently oblivious to the statues and other examples of fine art displayed all around her. She approached the stairway and seemed to meld into it, so closely did the color of her long dress match that of the carpet. The sheaf of white papers she clutched provided some contrast, as did her pale skin and waist-length blonde hair.

The woman mounted the stairs with her back straight and stiff, only her head turned down: facing the steps themselves instead of her destination. Nikola clutched the railing in front of her so hard that her knuckles turned white. She sensed danger for the figure below. She attempted to shout, "Look up," but no sound came out of her mouth.

Nikola glanced across the balcony to the top of the stairs. She could see only flashes of color, her vision obscured by a maze of multifaceted crystal. A chandelier hung across the balcony, a huge mass, taller than a person and hanging to the floor, incongruously dividing the stretch of balcony into two. She stretched to see around the chandelier, but it proved too wide for that, and when she tried to step back, she found herself fixed to the spot. Before she had a chance to try another warning, the figure passed behind the chandelier. The red pattern hesitated momentarily in the crystalline jig-saw puzzle before emerging again.

Nikola saw her identical twin tumbling backwards out of control. Every detail appeared vividly, as if in slow motion. The woman's face expressed shock, then pain, as she began the long descent. She released the papers she was carrying and they scattered above her head and then fluttered down slowly, confusing the scene with paper snow. Her arms reached out desperately, but the wide majestic staircase offered nothing within her reach to grab. Nikola saw her foot attempt to find a solid landing, only to come down crooked, twisted away from the rest of her falling body, clearly unable to support it.

Nikola leaned over the rail, impotently watching the uncontrolled descent. The slow motion action had the feeling of a dance being enacted for her benefit, but she had no idea why. She could only watch in horror at her twin's few futile attempts to catch her balance before landing at the foot of the stairs with her head twisted at an impossible angle. The woman lay there limply, her hips and legs still resting on the bottom steps, with only the trail of paper to mark her fatal descent. No, she thought, this can't be happening again.

Nikola opened her eyes abruptly, and tried to get her bearings. Darkness engulfed her, but when she turned her head the large glowing red letters of her alarm clock announced that it was five o'clock in the morning. The nightmare had overtaken her once again, and, as usual, it left her shaken and terrified. Her body was covered with a layer of sweat and the bed sheets were in a ball by the foot of the bed.

She got out of bed and went over to the kitchen. She knew that she wouldn't get any more sleep this morning, light was just beginning to show in the sky, and she was much too agitated from the dream. She grabbed a glass of orange juice and stared at the lightening sky beyond her windows. Right now, she missed her paintings more than ever and wondered what it all was supposed to mean.

She hadn't had this nightmare for over six months, ever since she had committed the three scenes from it to paint, but it still terrified her. She sipped her juice and examined her surroundings by the faint blue light that was just beginning to fill the windows. This temporary abode, a combination living space and painting studio, suited her lifestyle. Floor to ceiling windows covered two opposite walls and during the day sunlight illuminated the entire space. The minimal, utilitarian living space consisted of an small kitchenette, sitting area, bedroom and bath that suited her basic needs.

The rest of the apartment was painting studio, which Nikola had no trouble filling. She arrived for her year abroad ready to work and planned to work larger than ever before. Before she left Germany, she ordered ten canvasses built in a range of sizes, up to eight feet on a side, so they would be ready to accept her inspiration from the New World. They stood, lined up like soldiers on the opposite wall, waiting, as if to taunt her.

As the sun crept over the horizon, the loft brightened. Nikola put down her empty glass and headed for the shower. She needed to get rid of the sticky, uncomfortable feeling that she had as a result of her nightmare. After the shower she felt a bit better, but still the nightmare's bad premonition clung to her. To make matters worse, it was hot and humid already, despite the early hour. Although it was the middle of September, summer weather showed no signs of letting up. Her clothes clung to her shortly after she put them on. Ever since she had arrived here, Nikola found the heat and humidity oppressive. She wasn't used to weather like this, it seemed tropical compared with the summers in Germany, which were never so humid.

She felt a strong urge to get out of the apartment, picked up her keys and some money, and left. When she opened the apartment door, slightly cooler air hit her from the dark hallway. It was still thick with moisture though, and provided little relief. She looked at the rickety cage that hardly covered the elevator shaft and decided to walk down the seven flights of stairs to the street.

Nikola's first sight of this building, shortly after her arrival in New York, disappointed her. Martha brought her directly here from the airport, talking incessantly the whole way, but it wasn't enough to distract Nikola's keen artist's eye from the details of her surroundings. The building, built shortly after World War II, had clearly seen better days. Brownish gray and rectangular, it looked like it had been a warehouse at one time and was not adjusting well to the change. It was one of the few residential buildings on that block of Soho, badly maintained, and blended in easily with the warehouses bordering it.

The intercom system consisted of set of buttons on the outside wall by the front door.. They were arranged vertically, and seemed to correspond to the eight floors, but for the most part unlabeled and covered with graffiti. No other sign of any attempt at security could be found. When they approached the door, Nikola was able to push it open easily. In order to lock it, one had to slam it shut, which most of the tenants apparently neglected to do.

Martha assured her that it was a very safe building and neighborhood, and that she should feel very lucky to be living in Soho, in the midst of the New York gallery scene. It didn't really appear all that safe, but Nikola had lived under much worse conditions in the past, and had been determined not to let anything ruin this trip.

When Nikola made it down the stairs, she glanced around the dreary lobby. Not much of a lobby, it was really a square hallway containing the entrance, a few mailboxes, and a door to the first floor apartment. The exposed elevator shaft, surrounded only by its metallic grate, was in the back. The elevator inside looked like a large cage, the type of elevator you see in a warehouse or parking garage. Winding around its shaft were the stairs, forming a square as they snaked up the sides.

Shadows obscured the high ceiling. The two bare bulbs installed to light the area were inadequate for the task. The whole lobby had a brown cast to it, caused by the weak yellow incandescent light reflecting off the dark walls and tiled floor.

Nikola gladly escaped to the outside, almost completely bright by now, promising a sunny day ahead. She had to blink several times before her eyes adjusted to the sunlight. She inhaled deeply, cherishing the morning air. After looking around, she wandered towards Broadway. The sidewalks were quiet at this early hour but the streets already had noticeable traffic. The only people visible were the homeless, sprawled out alongside buildings, fast asleep. It was quite a different scene from the crowds which she had witnessed twelve hours before.

She hoped to find a restaurant open, and headed uptown on Broadway in search of one. She had heard that you could find anything, at any time, in New York City and now challenged the city to prove it. She had almost four hours to kill before the gallery opened, so she walked on, and eventually stumbled upon an open diner.

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