All Russians Have Dreams

Chapter 1

They gave you the look. They gave you the glares. They gave you the stares. You walk into the room, and your whole world changes, whether or not anything is determined, set in stone, or permanently changed. Your identity changes, yet you are still the same person, in a different self-outlook. Your residency changes, your looks change, everything about you has some affect on your future life.

~

As my mother and I strolled through the hallway, each of us glanced at each other occasionally with compassion-less glances. My mother's crystal eyes had a sudden clarity in them, making them abnormally larger than first in taken, as I stared at her with a stone slowly settling into the pit of my stomach. My mother, Serafina, seemed suddenly a more interesting person than made out to be. She whispers into my ear, "нечего не изменится." Nothing will change. A lie that should have been true, except it wasn't. She was trying to comfort me, but her sudden ounce of concern made my brain throb and my pulse thicken, as well as make me all in all more uncomfortable. My eyes wandered off my mother's pink shoes, or her hair in a bun for the first time in this year, or her blue dress with sparkling glitter that revealed only a hint of our social status. As I focused on my steps, I wished that the day would have never come, only an edited version of itself. I lifted my head and returned my gaze to my mother. She saw me trace a faint smile and sternly gave me a look that in Russian means to have a straight face. My mother did not tolerate any sort of misbehaviors, especially at a day like this. Her thick accent when she spoke to me alarmed me in sudden fright. "Помни," she simply stated. Remember. Language is power, and all we need is power. Serafina's pace quickened, burning a whole in my brain, leaving a special place in my heart when I would remember this moment in years to come. Her tiny feet managed to trace the floor without a scratch, as we walked straight ahead towards our future. My teachers in Ekaterinasburg always told us that it was impossible to predict the future well enough to be accurate. However, despite this, my mind began to form different images. Life images. The beginning at the end. ~

My mother rapidly and abruptly paused at the position about fifteen feet from Room 2. My mother pulled out of her back pocket a piece of neatly folded paper, and checked the confirmation that was mailed to us, taking four months after our application to reach out home address in the Soviet Union. We were discriminated against our religion, although we were reassured everything would come forward within two weeks. Now, we stand at the door where our future changes. My mother took my hand into hers and we exchanged a silent prayer for spiritual enlightenment. We consecutively took a deep breath, letting our exhales be a longer period of time than our inhales. We let go of each others hands, and my mother turned the brass knob of the door.

Chapter 2

We stepped through the door frame and walked into a room of white. The walls, the floor tiles, everything up to the clipboard and pens on the table was this color, except for the iron desk that vaguely looked like copper. My eyes stared straight ahead without even giving a look at my mother from the corner of my eye. I predicted my mother was doing as I was, since we were preparing for this moment since the day we filled out the application. There were four chairs, expected for a family of three and one inspector. All the seats must be filled as protocol for controlling the flow of communication. However, we were a family of two, my father leaving the country without any trace of him left behind. I slowly walked, focused on my breath and my pace. I pulled the chair out under the table and sat down, my head leveled straight towards the main seat, with my mother directly across from me, following my lead. We tucked in our blouses and sat silently in the room. I felt as if I were in an echoing hall, and if I were to speak my voice would travel a distance substantially greater than expected. I fidgeted with my hands, and I reached my hand into my pocket, trying to find something I could occupy my hands with. However, my mother and the security guards firmly warned us that nothing except our clothing were to be worn on us. I removed my hand as my mother shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with the circumstances. Her long, black hair was in a bun, however she fidgeted and soon let it fall down to her waist. She stared at the door, waiting for our two inspectors to go through with the interview and inspection. Both of us were tapping our feet in unison until we could not bear any longer. Suddenly we heard a voice, and as excepted it reflected off the walls of the white room. My mother fiddled her hair into a Japanese-style clipping, only a slight bang falling to her forehead. I remember she told me to show my ears and forehead, so the people who stared into our cold eyes determined whether it was us or not. I mimicked my mother's actions and pulled my brown hair around the curve of my ears. Then I straightened my posture and took a final deep breath, exhaling no sound. A man in a dark suit walked proudly into the room, his bold colors standing out from the aspects and highlights of the area around him. Following him came in another man, slightly shorter than the other but identical in every other way. I tried to remember a few things Serafina reminded me before we left our home. Make eye contact. All of the people in the building will be men, so they will try to find a weakness in you. However, don't let them. Keep your back straight and don't move your hands to do anything. Answer questions thoroughly without giving too much information. All of these things fluttered in my mind, but his booming voice made it harder to concentrate. Then, without any warning, the interview began. "Hello. You will answer an array of questions from both of us in a set amount of time and the honest truth. Do you understand?" addressed the sir. No introduction. No name. We were women, and people they never wanted to see. "Yes," I stated with the slightest confidence in my voice. My mother repeated after me. The shorter man explained to us that he will start with me, then Serafina. She must remain quiet for the interview to go thoroughly and she must not make any noises or partake in the conversation. They will first ask of documented questions, then state mandated questions, then their own protocol based on the information. I agreed, and my mother agreed, and the whole set arrangement began, at the very beginning.