He was tossing and turning in his bed. The clock advanced to 4:12 am and still he could not find any sleep, any rest, any relief from his being awake, from his conscious state. This had been his condition for hours now. But as much as he tried he could not escape the real world, escape to some dream - no matter how outlandish, nightmarish or frightening it would be - all would be better than to wake through his current existence.
There was a brief glimpse of relief when he drifted off to a short, feverish delirium. He was descending into a cave, more sliding down than actually stepping down by his own will. And there she was lying, in a puddle, drowned in the shallowest of waters... And immediately he came back to full consciousness - to hit him like a strike of lightening: he lost the most precious thing in life: his insouciance/беззаботность.
[Excerpt from „No return to Eden“ by Roman Beljajev/Роман Беляев; Copyright © 1925 Роман Беляев]
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