Chapter 7. Continuation 3
I hate museums.
All this dusty waste paper and angry aunts in the corners that don't let you touch anything.
I was once at the Portland History Museum, hiding there from the rain on the day of the free visit. Impressions remained the most unpleasant.
But this museum turned out to be different.
We entered the first hall, and I almost rushed back from the unexpected, so strange it was in the afternoon sun to be in total darkness. Of course, my eyes gradually got used to it and began to distinguish between the figures and even the faces of people around me, but I was still confused. Did they have electricity cut off for non-payment?
Dean told me to lift my head. I looked upward obediently. Thousands of stars shone above us, on the dark ceiling, slowly rotating and shining. Some flared up and went out, others showed up in their place, others flew up their way up the ceiling, spitting on the movement of the others, and left a long, tail-like trail after themselves.
Dean's quiet whispering that this is a primitive sky, as it was when our planet was born, I heard somewhere to my right. I'd lie there on the floor to see it all above me and lay there for five hours, even if other visitors were stepping on me. How beautiful it was...
Next up, there was a room with prehistoric rock formations. Fingerprints of the first shellfish and some other scaly baboonie who sailed the seas and oceans millions of years ago. In the corner there was a large sandpit with a spatula, so that kids could pick there, pretending to be the seekers of ancient fossils. We almost ran this hall.
The next one too. In the niches behind the glass there were figures of the first monkeys. Such overgrown, walking on all fours, then there were almost normal people in skins and with spears. On the screen was shown a video about how primitive people drove the mammoth.
But in front of the next room, Dean slowed down and turned to me, asking if I was ready to see something very cool. Wasn't it cool before? I almost asked him that question, but then I remembered that he wasn't talking to me, and just nodded. Sam snot behind my back. Dean solemnly hanged his eyebrow and disappeared in the doorway. I followed him, and... I was awesome.
There were dozens of giant monster skeletons in a huge room, three floors tall. Dinosaurs of all stripes and kinds pulled their necks up, leaned toward the ground in search of food, and became terribly angry.
Sam wandered between the skeletons and read signatures, pretending to be... interested, of course, but no more. Dean was watching him with a smile, and then he whispered to me that Sam had been raving about dinosaurs since he was five years old, and he was buzzing his ears about the center, so he wanted to get here.
It turned out to be the largest collection of prehistoric lizard skeletons in the country.
We've been there for at least an hour and a half. Sam slept in when he left so Dean wouldn't see us, and sneakedly touched some little dinosaur's skull. He didn't care how he did it. Dean, by the way, saw it.
And now we are sitting in the park.
Senior Winchester left for a minute and came back to us with three ice cream horns in his hands, each of them depicting a dinosaur. Sam chose a tyrannosaurus, and the inside of the ice cream ball was red, and I even dared to joke that it tasted like meat, but Sam, licking the edge, assured us that the tyrannosaurus was harmlessly strawberry. Dean still had a flying lizard with banana flavor in his hand, and I got a huge herbivorous pleso... plesio... something-a-lizard, in short. It's his giant skeleton that takes up a third of the biggest hall. The ice cream was green, and, no, it wasn't herbal, though Sam didn't forget to joke about me in return. It's apple. It was delicious. I just dripped three times on their jeans.
Sam looks happy. He and Dean are talking quietly about something. Finally, everything's okay between them again. Still okay, right? Keep it that way. I'll go make a wish near the fountain. Suddenly it will come true.
November 2, 17.15
It did not come true.
It's just a coincidence, isn't it? It is not my fault. It was just a strange day full of impressions that affected me so much that I stopped controlling every step of my life. And in the end, my tongue was unleashed.
Damn it.
But I'm not saying anything, just noticing, looking at the kids playing everywhere, that I would like to bring my son here if I had one.
I don't even develop this thought any further, but I immediately feel the peace and tranquility that reigns in our gazebo after eating ice cream dims, wanes and falls to the ground like autumn leaves. But everything was so good.
I turn around and look at Sam, who's extinct, watching the kids on the playground playing with their parents. Dean's been staring at him and looking at me a couple of times with a kind of resentment in his eyes.