Posted by Gary Johnston
I am in a forest. The Sun is doing its best to shine through the trees. A gentle breeze plays with the leaves. I am walking down a path, and I see an old man with long white hair, a beard and wearing a long white gown. He is sitting on a tree stump with a pad on his lap. As I get closer I ask him, “What are you writing?”
“Your life,” he replies.
“Really? What happens?”
“I don’t know,” he says. I’m at the part where you walk into a forest and see me writing.”
I have no idea whose mansion I am in. It is not mine. I am in the person’s private library sitting in an armchair reading a book. As I turn the book over to see its title, a loud booming voice says, “Are you reading this book, or is this book reading you?”
Wow! What a feeling flying high above the clouds! But then I become afraid because my soaring scares me. Suddenly I am walking in a crowded shopping mall. Why am I here? What was going to buy. I sit down on a mall bench and think. People stare at me as if I am different.
I am in a forest. The Sun is doing its best to shine through the trees. A gentle breeze plays with the leaves. I am old with long white hair and a beard. I am wearing a long white gown. I am sitting on a tree stump writing in the pad on my lap. I look up. Walking down the path towards me is a man. As he gets closer, I see that it is me as I looked when I was younger . . .