Youth... Carried away, seething. Friends and peers... Cheerful walks and naïve serious conversations...

Young disputes and reckless songs... My boy still loves me, but it's like he's moving on. He already has his own inner life. He leaves me alone more and more often and is often silent in my presence for a long time.

The beginning of youth. Kanechka in a military uniform. There is more seriousness on the face. He is often thoughtful. He has many acquaintances. Some mysterious meetings. I can clearly see a large table, covered with green cloth and littered with some maps and plans. Around him is a whole gallery of young and old faces... I remember them all so clearly! Bending over the table, they are examining something, studying... Then they argue for a long time with a serious and excited look. Kanechka is among them, but for some reason he is sad...

Wait! The old voice suddenly said, and it sounded menacing: "Don't be curious any further!" One more picture, and if you see it, your request will come true... But know that you will regret it!

No, no! I shouted. "I want, I want the boy to be alive... I beg, I beg..

Look!

It was as if a heavy soft carpet had unfolded, which had hitherto covered one of the walls of the room. A black, empty space opened up behind him. At first, I couldn't see anything. Then there seemed to be a faint light, and in the depths I saw...

Gallows!!.

Do I need to tell the rest? Everything went on as I saw in this prophetic dream.

When I woke up, the boy was sleeping deeply, peacefully. Breathing was even, correct. His cheeks did not burn with the same fire. The fever was gone.

He began to recover quickly. And then the scenes I had seen in my dreams began to repeat themselves in real life. I even recognized faces. In the faces surrounding Kanechka, I remembered old acquaintances.

The terrible, tragic end was also known to me in advance... Sleep did not deceive me here either."

Kondraty Ryleev was really hanged.

Reading this story, one involuntarily thinks: was it worth praying so stubbornly, with such passionate persistence, only to survive an even heavier, more terrible grief and lead his son to such a joyless, terrible end?