An old blind man rested in a hospital bed bare-assed but adequately covered by a plastic garb and thin nylon bed sheets. His swollen cataract-lumped eyes stared without vision up to the ceiling. It was cold. He was scared.
A door opened. A young man with bright green eyes and beach blonde hair softly trotted into the room, closing the door behind him. The blind man listened for the young man to step closer, but there was no sound. The silence irked him.
³I want a torrent. I want a storm,² he muttered. These would be his last words. A clammy hand gripped his bony fingers and squeezed them tightly. He could hear sobbing. His eyes stared vacantly upwards, but there was no vision in the darkness.
³There are clouds outside,² spoke the young man as eh spoke with gashing breathe. The clammy hand squeezed tightly. He wanted to squeeze back, but there was no energy left inside of the old grey shell of a body.
He felt his body weakening. Already he couldnıt move from his bed, and now he could barely twitch his fingers. A soft him rang in his ears. Between the moments of silent he loathed it, but now the soft purr of the electronic devices was fading.
He tried to smile for his son. The muscles did not want to move. He felt his aged heart pulse within his chest. It seemed to almost make a grinding noise as it rubbed against his fragile rib cage.
³Dad I love you. I love you so much,² spoke the son. He did not hear a single word, but he felt pain from the tightening grasp on his hand. He loved it. He didnıt want to pain to stop.
Slowly even that sensation began to pass and fade. His eyes watered. He was a coward. He was afraid, but the panic was gone now. The anxiety of a flustered and rattled mind was now gone; there was no energy left to keep up such a futile mental scream. It was inevitable that this would happen. It was the only inevitability there truly was.
As his heart stopped, and his lungs failed to breathe, one of the few final thoughts that floated in the abyss on the end of all things was that of a storm. He wanted it to rain. He wanted to feel water splatter across his body as absorb into his skin. Sensation was the only indicator of life for him, as he was one who lived his life in and out of dreams.
The soft hum in his mind, that dull melody of a single doleful note, faded away.
There are only two places in the universe where all answers and all questions are understood.
Of these two places, only one held what was perhaps the most beautiful vista ever seen by any person in existence. A gentle grove of trees surrounded a bluff that looked across two sides of a grassy valley. Like most things, at first glance it didnıt seem as if there was anything particularly pleasant about it. It was in the time of the early morning that the gleam of sunlight from the tress seems to glow with just a particular shade of green that made the human psyche feel a throbbing emotion nearest to tranquility.
The trees themselves were of a nature that was not seen elsewhere. They were a variation of the willow, but its thick brown and grey gnarled roots raised out of the ground into a thick birch-like slender trunk. At the top this particular flavor of tree exploded in long whip-like branches that extended outwards like a parasol.
The air was cool and blew softly onto the long draping branches of the trees that the willow-like vegetation seemed to sway with a swagger of a newly wed husband dancing with his bride.
It was early afternoon when he arrived to the grove. Birds chirped in with a long chorus that seemed to play in tune with the waltz the plant life seemed to dance to. The man rubbed the thin stubble that grew on his face from a weekıs worth of walking through hills and valleys without any sign of another individual. He looked up the path on rising hill. Only a few yards more up the path the tree line appeared to stop as a small circular stone structure poked out of tall wild grass.
There, he had hoped, was where the understanding lay. He walked up the tall hill slowly yet eagerly as the stone structure drew closer and closer to him. It was a small squat building that seemed almost organic, like a part of the landscape, save for the thin trail of fumes that evaporated from a chimney that protruded from the structureıs thatched roof.
He walked nearly completely around the round little stone building before coming across a makeshift wooden door made out of the white wood of the trees surrounding the knoll. He reached out the knock on it, but pulled his hand back as he was afraid he would break the thing.
³Excuse me,² spoke the man instead as he peered through the cracked of the wood, ³do you accept visitors?²
Inside the red glow of coal under a thick black iron cauldron lit the room enough for the man to make out a silhouette of a small figure sitting next to the flames cradling a long thin staff in her arms. As he strained his eyes to look inside, the figure turned slightly and raised one small and bony hand in a greeting gesture.
³No,² she muttered almost too softly for the man to make out, ³but I will accept you regardless.²
The man stood there momentarily taken aback, only to nod softly and gently rattle open the rickety wood door. It was darker inside then what he had imagined, and as he ducked under the stone door frame he came to realize it was smaller then what he had expected as well.
³Iım so sorry to disturb you,² spoke the man, ³but you see Iıve come from very far way to see you²
His eyes wandered to a corpse that had long since rotted away but still sat complacently on a chair in the corner. The structure itself was clustered with bottles of grey clay and burgundy glass that hanged from every rater and peg that made up the building. Firs and ancient tapestries of a civilization long dead layered the floor and the few spaces inside the cylinder that lacked pegs or shelves.
The shadowed figured tapped her staff. The man quickly darted his eyes back at the woman, only to blush in modest embarrassment. The old woman gestured with her staff for the man to sit next to her by the fire.
He sat. The woman did not speak but gazed into his eyes with blank expressionless eyes of her own. Once again her arms unfolded and she pointed at a spot on the wall near the manıs head.
³Fetch me that bottle which is the shape of a gourd,² she muttered. The man turned his head to look at the wall, and pulled the leather loop wrapped around the bottle off the peg it hung from. He handed it to the old woman.
³Iım sorry, but I donıt know your name,² he explained. The old woman pulled a cork from the lip of the bottle, only to chug its contents into her mouth. Thick green nectar dripped from her lips and onto her soft pale garb. As she wiped her lips on her sleeve, the small beads and bones attached to the tip of her staff rattled like thunder.
³If you do not know who I am, what business do you have with me?² she asked in a cracked and stressed voice. The man waved his hands.
³No, I know who you are, you are the watcher. But it was told to me that your name has been forgotten,² he explained. The old womanıs eyes turned to stare at the flames of the fire. She folded her arms tightly to her chest, clasping the staff firmly.
³What is your name?²
³Bradford Jackson. They call me Jack though.²
³Marwana-nu Levıvantza.²
³That is a peculiar name.²
³Likewise.²
Jack scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. ³Iım sorry. Iım somewhat of an idiot.²
Marwana-nu looked up from the flames and back into the manıs eyes. He felt almost frightened from the womanıs dagger-like glare. His lips trembled slightly as he tried to speak, but he was too stunned by the womanıs empty black eyes.
³Youıre hear on the idiotıs quest, I assume,² she spoke cynically. He held back the desire to say anything contrary.
³I suppose I am,² he explained, reluctant. The small frail old woman grinned.
³Tell me,² she muttered before bringing the bottle to her lips again, ³what has brought you here.²
Jack looked down at the thick brown fir he was sitting on to think but mentally cringed when he had noticed how much thick grey dry mud flaked onto it as he sat. He closed his eyes and listened to the crackle of the shifting coal.
³There was a war; it was the war to end all wars. They are calling it the Great War now,² he began, ³my father was a soldier. He died in battle. My mother died of grief. I prayed to my God to ask him why this had to happen, but now he is gone as well.²
Jack paused and lost himself in the glow of the burning charcoal, ³if my God is in a place that is no more, and he has taken my family. I want to know why. I want to know where that is so I can see him and ask.²
As he spoke, his eyes began to grow adjusted to the darkness of the room. As the woman leaned in to poke the coals with the end of her staff, jack noticed the thick white cataracts on the womanıs eyes.
³Youıre Blind!² he declared, almost feeling ashamed as soon as the words left his lips. A small doleful groan came from the woman as she stooped back into her resting spot.
³A fool indeed,² she muttered in her raspy voice. The bones and glass clattered as she folded her arms tightly to her chest and grunted.
³Very well. Yes, this will do,² the old woman muttered to herself, ³this is what I will offer you. I will grant you the means to what you desire, but it will come at a cost.²
Jack nodded. ³I am prepared,² he explained. The woman shook her head.
³Few ever really are.²
The woman unfolded her arms and rested the head of the staff in her lap as she examined the beads of bone and glass. As he held one between her fingers she paused monetarily and swiftly pulled it off.
He tossed it to the man, who nearly dropped it into the thick fir he sat on. Jack recovered the small glass bead, and held it closer to the glowing coal to examine it. It was filled with a green liquid that seemed to glow slightly with the light of the hot red coals.
³When you return home, swallow that. Like the portal you took here, it will be your portal to a land within dreams. There, there is yet another gate which is watched over by a woman. It is through that door where you will find your answers.²
³And the cost?²
The woman folded her arms and tucked them back into her garb. ³To see the world within the mind, you must lose the sight in this one. As it is with all who lack the ability, one must sever one thread of sensation to gain access to the other.²
³So I am to go blind like you?²
³It is a slow process.²
The man put the small glass bead into his pocket. The old woman gave a deep sigh and began to adjust her old tired body back into its resting spot on the fir-covered floor. Jack stood.
³Thank you miss. I wonıt forget your hospitality.²
³It isnıt hospitality,² she mumbled, ³merely justification. I am old, and one day soon I shall not wake from my sleep.²
³Iım sorry,² mumbled Jack as he awkwardly crouched in the stone hut. The woman shook her head.
³You really are stupid. Do you know what is the only thing that canıt be taken away in this world, and is the only thing that survives after oneıs death? Do you know what that living immortality is?²
The old woman spoke excitedly and her raspy voice cackled. As he finished speaking, she heaved over in a coughing fit. Jack looked at her, bewildered by the stir in the womanıs actions. Dumbly he stepped over to pat her on the back, but fearful of the woman he only lightly pressed his hands against the womanıs garb.
³Stop touching me,² she grumbled. Jack stepped back, only to have the old woman grasp his shirt by the collar as her coughing slowly began to stop. Her grasp softened.
³Knowledge is the living immortality of our humanity. Do not fail to remember this. I give the power to you knowing that your experiences will be, and what knowledge can be obtained from it. In this way, I am your teacher. In this way, a part of me will live on.²
Exhausted, the woman slumped back into her crouching position. She turned her blank visionless stare to the burning coals. She poked at them with her staff listlessly. Jack stood there, unsure of what to do next.
³I am tired of you. Leave me,² the old woman growled. He tucked her arms tightly against her chest. Jack nodded sheepishly and began to step boards the door. Once more he took note of his mud-chalked boots. He winced. Shaking his head to himself the man took a deep breath and pressed his hand against the soft white wood door.
³Thank you,² he uttered as he gently pulled open the door. Jack stepped outside.
A few weeks later, Jack had a dream.
It was not a typical dream, and this abnormal dream of course did not come by normal means. It came at four oıclock in the morning, after all the radio shows had long since been silenced. It was something that batted in his mind sluggishly at first like all new skills. He didnıt enjoy the sensation that came with this first new experience, but odder still was that fact that the man had few dreams to begin with.
The experience of this new dream was not what made it particularly abnormal. It was the torture that came before it. Between the hours of the last monotone signal of the radio in the wooden box until when his head stopped spinning and his thoughts stopped bashing against his skull with sledgehammers, all the little nuances of anxiety and mania nibbled away at him.
Six months had passed since he had found his way to that grove, and in those waking hours he could think of nothing more then what rested beyond that door within his mind that the old woman spoke of. One of the problems with an idiot was that they never knew when to stop thinking. In Jackıs case he never knew how to stop thinking.
Thoughts nagged him. These thoughts were water droplets that dripped into the empty basin of his skull. The water accumulated behind that invisible wall of the ordinary accumulations of static data that were taken to be fact. Yet this wall of reasoning was unstable. The foundation was very weak; the copper and steel cables intertwined irregularly and sometimes did not fit together at all.
So the water of thought leaked through. It poured out between the cracks in the form of questions. These questions were so much in the design of the philosophically astute that it would be trite and mundane to mention them.
Eventually the dam was ready to break, and all the questions would flood in at once. Jack couldnıt guess what would happen then, although he assumed he would go mad. He didnıt want that. There was no way to reason when nothing no longer needed to make sense.
But as he sat in his seat with the radio picking up nothing more then static and a small green glass bead rested complacently alone on the coffee table before him, and as those nagging thoughts pounded and dripped away at his skull lusting for an exit, madness was slowly becoming a desired exit. He at least knew what would become of him if he took that path, as what fate held with him if he swallowed the small green bead he did not know.
What it came down to, he concluded, is if he had the gall enough to seek that answer. There seemed to be no truths in madness, and so he wanted to trust the old woman and seek his truths in the unknown. But he did not lie to himself though; he was a coward.
He picked up the small green glass ball and rolled it between his fingers. Even if he swallowed it, he did not have to go through that door in his mind. He can push himself further and stomach the glass bead; if not because he had gone as far as he could with his vision, then merely to make the thoughts stop racing and pounding.
Without giving in to any hesitation, he opened his mouth wide and let the glass bead slide down his throat. He found it not difficult to swallow, and painless. Jack walked over to the metal frame and lumpy mattress he called a bad and laid there. He folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. A light bulb dangled from a wire and slowly swayed from the gust of cold air and seeped in from under the door.
Jack didnıt remember closing his eyes. He couldnıt recall how long he slept for either. The only thing he remembered was that for once he was aware that he was dreaming. With this knowledge, he took control of his persona within the dream.
* * *
Jack expected more from the land of dreams, but what he had discovered seemed shockingly normal. He found himself walking down a long sidewalk that ran next to an old bumpy road with old water-worn houses. On the other side of the sidewalk was nothing more then trees and grass and a few ducks.
After walking on the sidewalk for some time he decided to journey out into the grass and trees. It didnıt take him too long to come across a clearing in the flat landscape where an artificial pond was carved into the ground. This basin only served to accumulate even more ducks.
A young boy squatted at the waterıs edge and held a half loaf of sliced wheat bread packaged in a thin plastic wrapper with simple designs of primary colored circles and squares. In his small hands he delicately ripped off pieces of one slice of the bread as he tossed it into the water. Ducks surrounded the boy. He smiled ad they all desperately leapt out of the water with a splash when he tossed the small piece of bread into the air with all his might.
³They like the ends,² he explained as he tossed the rest of the bread slice into the water. Brown and white birds swam to the crust of bread as fast as their leathery orange webbed feet could take them.
³Where am I?ı asked the young man. The boy wiped the breadcrumbs onto his overalls and looked u to Jackıs face.
³You`re at my park. My friends like to play here with me. They donıt come until later though. We play hide-and-go-seek. Its fun to play that here because you can always get so lost.²
Jack nodded as if he understood. He didnıt.
³Do you live here?² he asked the young man. The boy looked downwards as he thought about it only to gaze into the murky black pond water.
³Mmmmm Yeah and no. Itıs my place, but I live with my mom. This is a lot nicer though. Thereıs a fountain in the middle of the pond. It goes off only on Sundays.²
Again Jack nodded, only this time with slightly more understanding of the boyıs comments. He looked around at the brown and white ducks and the clear blue sky and the trees and the grass.
³Is this it?²
³Nah. You must be new. Kind of old to be new though,² spoke the boy. His attention span had already dwindled and he had returned to feeding the ducks.
³Yeah,² mumbled Jack slightly embarrassed, ³this is my first time. The Watcher gave me the ability³
³Oh. Youıre him,² grumbled the boy with some disgust, ³She told me youıd come here first. Most do though. I make a lot of friends that way.²
³What did she say?²
³She said to tell you hmm. Keep walking. Keep walking until you wake up. Keep doing this the next day too, and the next day. Eventually youıd get there,² the boy explained. Jack nodded.
³Thanks kid.²
³Watch out for the big brown geese,² spoke the boy as he began to squat next to the waterıs edge again, ³ they are really mean.²
Seven months later, Jack found himself before a large boulder blocking his path. The trail he had followed had brought him down a long windy Cliffside path, and he could not recall any forks in his path for at least two months.
Jack stood there momentarily, looking at the large dull brown and grey boulder. He scratched his head. He walked over to see if he could creep around it, but there was no room. He did not feel like falling down the cliff and into the thick sprawling jungle below. The snakes and spiders lurking just beyond the tree line were enough to wish for his sight back.
As he stood there befuddled, a small marmoset crawled onto the top of the large boulder and looked at the perplexed traveler. It tilted his head and with wide brown eyes watched Jack amusingly.
³Oh. Hello there,² spoke Jack politely.
³Hello,² said the little marmoset. It shook its small craw at the man before running its over its thick brown mane of hair. Despite his predicament, Jack smiled.
³What kind of creature are you? Are you a thing of dreams?² asked the man curiously. The marmoset shook its fuzzy head.
³No, I am a marmoset. The only thing imaginative about us is the name,² explained the marmoset. Jack nodded, staring at the big white tufts of hair that protruded out of the animalıs ears.
³What are you doing up there marmoset?²
³Watching you, obviously. What are you doing?²
³Trying to find my way. Would you happen to know if this boulder is some sort of test or something? Its awfully odd to be walking for so long in oneıs head just to randomly come across a large boulder.²
³Iım afraid not,² he spoke in a squeaky little voice, ³for I am only just a marmoset.²
Stumped, Jack sat down on the dirt path and stared at the rock. He ran his fingers through his hair.
³I read about something like this before, in a book once,² he explained to the Marmoset, ³existentialism they called it.²
³Yeah? I donıt read too many books, on the account that Iım a marmoset and all.²
Jack ignored the marmoset and continued with the narrative. ²A hiking group was walking up a trail in the mountains, and their path was blocked like this. One man saw the rock and decided the trip was over and almost immediately unpacked picnic lunch. A woman thought the rock looked so pretty she unpacked paints and begin to paint it. One person whimpered over the fact that the trail was done, while the other unpacked some rope and tried to climb over it.²
³So which one are you?² asked the marmoset. Jack shrugged.
³Well, the whole thing had to do with our predisposition, or something of that sort.²
The little marmoset scurried closer to the edge of the boulder, watching the man as he sat and thought. Jack rubbed his temples, and ran his hands across his eyes. He took a deep breath.
³Do you hear ringing?² he asked the squeaky voiced marmoset. It shook its head.
³I think it must be your alarm clock,² explained the marmoset as everything began to fade into the same flat tone of grey.
³Point546mar.² mumbled Jack as his eyes darted between a small paper and the bookshelf. A small green pencil was clasped at the tips of his lips. He brows furrowed as he looked at the decimals listed on each book on the tall bookshelf. Crouching, he examined the bottom row of leather-bounded books with mild confusion.
³546mar.² he muttered again, looking at the empty spot between 545 and 547. He scratched the thick brown hair at the top of his head.
A woman walked over and stood next to him. She looked at him curiously. He did not look like the type of person who would be barrowing books, but instead he looked like the one who would be writing them.
³Excuse me,² she spoke, ³do you need assistance?²
Jack looked up with his confused expression still pressed onto his face, only to change it to a warm smile when his eyes met hers. He pulled the pencil from his lips. ³Oh, well yeah. I was looking for a book.²
³You came to the right place then,² she replied. The sarcasm was something Jack wasnıt familiar with. There was a moment of awkward hesitation before he laughed almost nervously.
³Oh. Right. Well, Iım looking for this book actually,² he explained as he pointed to the number on his piece of paper. He leaned over her shoulder as if he was directing her on a map.
³There arenıt any books numbered 546MAR here. You probably meant to write 586,² she explained. Jack scratched the back of his head.
³Those numbers were a little hard for me to read,² replied Jack as he followed the woman to another aisle.
³I typed the catalog cards myself,² she replied. Jack winced. The woman swiftly traced her fingers across a row of books and retrieved a small red leather book.
³Interested in Marmosets, are you?² she asked as she handed Jack the book. He smiled almost sheepishly.
³Truth be told,² he explained to the woman as he leaned against one of the large bookshelves and flipped through the places of the book, squinting, ³I met a marmoset this morning, and it reminded me about how little I know. Iıve been going about things by following my gut, but I havenıt been going about using my head much.²
³Well, not in a productive way I think,² he added in hesitant afterthought. The woman smiled.
³Iım not sure where you would run into one that those creatures in these parts,² she explained, ³but Iım happy someone new is at our library. Is there anything I can do for you? Perhaps another book?²
Jack almost stepped back. For some reason, the thought of asking for more then one book never came across to him. He thought for a moment. He tapped the small red book his palm.
³Actually,² he spoke as a smile came across him due to the keenness he had with his sudden brilliance, ³do you have any books on rocks?²
Nodding, the woman walked over to the other side of the library. Jack followed.
³Whatıs your name miss librarian?² he asked as they walked.
³Itıs a hard name to say, so my friends call me Jana,² she explained.
³Thank you Jana.²
The woman slowly came to a stop before a row of bookshelves. ³This is our geology section,² she explained. She pointed at the row of books. Jack nodded.
³Geology?² he aksed.
³Rocks.²
³Oh,² he muttered.
She pulled out a book and handed it to him. ³This one is a good book for beginners.²
Jack looked it over, squinting at the print. He flipped through a few pages. ³Have you read this book?²
³Yes, I have. Its very insightful.²
Again, Jack nodded. He put the book under his arm. The man turned his attention to Jana, whom he noticed was still waiting on him.
³I think this will do for now,² he explained as he wandered out of the aisle of books, ³how long do I have to read them?²
³Normally two weeks, but for you Iıll let you barrow them for as long as youıd like,² she explained. Jana ran her fingers through her hair.
³Excellent,² said jack.
After walking on the sidewalk for some time he decided to journey out into the grass and trees. It didnıt take him too long to come across a clearing in the flat landscape where an artificial pond was carved into the ground. This basin only served to accumulate even more ducks.
A young boy squatted at the waterıs edge and held a half loaf of sliced wheat bread packaged in a thin plastic wrapper with simple designs of primary colored circles and squares. In his small hands he delicately ripped off pieces of one slice of the bread as he tossed it into the water. Ducks surrounded the boy. He smiled ad they all desperately leapt out of the water with a splash when he tossed the small piece of bread into the air with all his might.
³They like the ends,² he explained as he tossed the rest of the bread slice into the water. Brown and white birds swam to the crust of bread as fast as their leathery orange webbed feet could take them.
³Where am I?ı asked the young man. The boy wiped the breadcrumbs onto his overalls and looked u to Jackıs face.
³You`re at my park. My friends like to play here with me. They donıt come until later though. We play hide-and-go-seek. Its fun to play that here because you can always get so lost.²
Jack nodded as if he understood. He didnıt.
³Do you live here?² he asked the young man. The boy looked downwards as he thought about it only to gaze into the murky black pond water.
³Mmmmm Yeah and no. Itıs my place, but I live with my mom. This is a lot nicer though. Thereıs a fountain in the middle of the pond. It goes off only on Sundays.²
Again Jack nodded, only this time with slightly more understanding of the boyıs comments. He looked around at the brown and white ducks and the clear blue sky and the trees and the grass.
³Is this it?²
³Nah. You must be new. Kind of old to be new though,² spoke the boy. His attention span had already dwindled and he had returned to feeding the ducks.
³Yeah,² mumbled Jack slightly embarrassed, ³this is my first time. The Watcher gave me the ability³
³Oh. Youıre him,² grumbled the boy with some disgust, ³She told me youıd come here first. Most do though. I make a lot of friends that way.²
³What did she say?²
³She said to tell you hmm. Keep walking. Keep walking until you wake up. Keep doing this the next day too, and the next day. Eventually youıd get there,² the boy explained. Jack nodded.
³Thanks kid.²
³Watch out for the big brown geese,² spoke the boy as he began to squat next to the waterıs edge again, ³ they are really mean.²
Seven months later, Jack found himself before a large boulder blocking his path. The trail he had followed had brought him down a long windy Cliffside path, and he could not recall any forks in his path for at least two months.
Jack stood there momentarily, looking at the large dull brown and grey boulder. He scratched his head. He walked over to see if he could creep around it, but there was no room. He did not feel like falling down the cliff and into the thick sprawling jungle below. The snakes and spiders lurking just beyond the tree line were enough to wish for his sight back.
As he stood there befuddled, a small marmoset crawled onto the top of the large boulder and looked at the perplexed traveler. It tilted his head and with wide brown eyes watched Jack amusingly.
³Oh. Hello there,² spoke Jack politely.
³Hello,² said the little marmoset. It shook its small craw at the man before running its over its thick brown mane of hair. Despite his predicament, Jack smiled.
³What kind of creature are you? Are you a thing of dreams?² asked the man curiously. The marmoset shook its fuzzy head.
³No, I am a marmoset. The only thing imaginative about us is the name,² explained the marmoset. Jack nodded, staring at the big white tufts of hair that protruded out of the animalıs ears.
³What are you doing up there marmoset?²
³Watching you, obviously. What are you doing?²
³Trying to find my way. Would you happen to know if this boulder is some sort of test or something? Its awfully odd to be walking for so long in oneıs head just to randomly come across a large boulder.²
³Iım afraid not,² he spoke in a squeaky little voice, ³for I am only just a marmoset.²
Stumped, Jack sat down on the dirt path and stared at the rock. He ran his fingers through his hair.
³I read about something like this before, in a book once,² he explained to the Marmoset, ³existentialism they called it.²
³Yeah? I donıt read too many books, on the account that Iım a marmoset and all.²
Jack ignored the marmoset and continued with the narrative. ²A hiking group was walking up a trail in the mountains, and their path was blocked like this. One man saw the rock and decided the trip was over and almost immediately unpacked picnic lunch. A woman thought the rock looked so pretty she unpacked paints and begin to paint it. One person whimpered over the fact that the trail was done, while the other unpacked some rope and tried to climb over it.²
³So which one are you?² asked the marmoset. Jack shrugged.
³Well, the whole thing had to do with our predisposition, or something of that sort.²
The little marmoset scurried closer to the edge of the boulder, watching the man as he sat and thought. Jack rubbed his temples, and ran his hands across his eyes. He took a deep breath.
³Do you hear ringing?² he asked the squeaky voiced marmoset. It shook its head.
³I think it must be your alarm clock,² explained the marmoset as everything began to fade into the same flat tone of grey.
³Point546mar.² mumbled Jack as his eyes darted between a small paper and the bookshelf. A small green pencil was clasped at the tips of his lips. He brows furrowed as he looked at the decimals listed on each book on the tall bookshelf. Crouching, he examined the bottom row of leather-bounded books with mild confusion.
³546mar.² he muttered again, looking at the empty spot between 545 and 547. He scratched the thick brown hair at the top of his head.
A woman walked over and stood next to him. She looked at him curiously. He did not look like the type of person who would be barrowing books, but instead he looked like the one who would be writing them.
³Excuse me,² she spoke, ³do you need assistance?²
Jack looked up with his confused expression still pressed onto his face, only to change it to a warm smile when his eyes met hers. He pulled the pencil from his lips. ³Oh, well yeah. I was looking for a book.²
³You came to the right place then,² she replied. The sarcasm was something Jack wasnıt familiar with. There was a moment of awkward hesitation before he laughed almost nervously.
³Oh. Right. Well, Iım looking for this book actually,² he explained as he pointed to the number on his piece of paper. He leaned over her shoulder as if he was directing her on a map.
³There arenıt any books numbered 546MAR here. You probably meant to write 586,² she explained. Jack scratched the back of his head.
³Those numbers were a little hard for me to read,² replied Jack as he followed the woman to another aisle.
³I typed the catalog cards myself,² she replied. Jack winced. The woman swiftly traced her fingers across a row of books and retrieved a small red leather book.
³Interested in Marmosets, are you?² she asked as she handed Jack the book. He smiled almost sheepishly.
³Truth be told,² he explained to the woman as he leaned against one of the large bookshelves and flipped through the places of the book, squinting, ³I met a marmoset this morning, and it reminded me about how little I know. Iıve been going about things by following my gut, but I havenıt been going about using my head much.²
³Well, not in a productive way I think,² he added in hesitant afterthought. The woman smiled.
³Iım not sure where you would run into one that those creatures in these parts,² she explained, ³but Iım happy someone new is at our library. Is there anything I can do for you? Perhaps another book?²
Jack almost stepped back. For some reason, the thought of asking for more then one book never came across to him. He thought for a moment. He tapped the small red book his palm.
³Actually,² he spoke as a smile came across him due to the keenness he had with his sudden brilliance, ³do you have any books on rocks?²
Nodding, the woman walked over to the other side of the library. Jack followed.
³Whatıs your name miss librarian?² he asked as they walked.
³Itıs a hard name to say, so my friends call me Jana,² she explained.
³Thank you Jana.²
The woman slowly came to a stop before a row of bookshelves. ³This is our geology section,² she explained. She pointed at the row of books. Jack nodded.
³Geology?² he aksed.
³Rocks.²
³Oh,² he muttered.
She pulled out a book and handed it to him. ³This one is a good book for beginners.²
Jack looked it over, squinting at the print. He flipped through a few pages. ³Have you read this book?²
³Yes, I have. Its very insightful.²
Again, Jack nodded. He put the book under his arm. The man turned his attention to Jana, whom he noticed was still waiting on him.
³I think this will do for now,² he explained as he wandered out of the aisle of books, ³how long do I have to read them?²
³Normally two weeks, but for you Iıll let you barrow them for as long as youıd like,² she explained. Jana ran her fingers through her hair.
³Excellent,² said jack.
* * *
Jack stood in front of the boulder. This night in his dreams the jungle was covered in the darkness of night. Only the moon and a few scattered stars dared to glow and shine in the void of sky.
³Oh, you`re back again,² warbled the marmoset as he slowly crawled to the edge of a branch. Its large eyes shined in the light of the moon so much it seemed almost as if they were stars themselves.
Jack smiled at his small fuzzy friend up in the tree. ³Yes, Iım back.²
³Did you figure out what you were going to do?² he asked the man. Jack nodded.
³Iım going to do nothing,² he explained. The small marmoset tilted its head to the side.
³Nothing?² it asked. Again, Jack nodded.
³Yeah. Nothing. Iıve been reading. Learning. And I realized a lot of things,² explained the man triumphantly. The small mammal looked on curiously.
³What did you learn?² squeaked out the marmosetıs voice.
³First,² began Jack, ³I learned that this boulder here shouldnıt be here. Itıs composed of shale where everything else around here is volcanic rock. Secondly, this is the land of dreams. How are there obstacles unless I will them to be?²
As Jack spoke the large boulder that blocked his path began to fade away into the darkness of the night. The large bright eyes of the marmoset turned to stare at the vanishing rock, only to look back at the man with mild astonishment.
³Was there someone who met the rock by claiming the rock wasnıt there in that book you read?² asked the marmoset. Jack shrugged and walked over the ground where the large boulder once stood.
³I donıt remember,² he spoke, ³but I doubt this was in my predisposition.²
Jack stood in the boulderıs spot looking up into the night sky. He looked at the moon and the blue glow it emitted on this evening. He closed his eyes. The sparse stars that filled the night sky began to flicker with a brighter intensity. Slowly new stars began to appear in the empty void. Slowly they came at first as they filled in the usual constellations of childhood memory. The manıs expression became taught as the stars slowly stopped appearing.
He opened his eyes. Jack was disappointed.
³I was hoping I could do better, but it somewhat proves my hypothesis,² explained Jack. By this time the marmoset had scurried down to the manıs legs and looked up at the stars and Jackıs face.
³What was it that you were thinking?² squeaked the marmoset.
³I was hoping that this place was nothing more then a blank canvas that one can paint with the mind. I added stars but what I envisioned was something more then this,² ex explained. The marmoset stood on its hind lets, holding on the jackıs pants as it pointed upwards.
³Maybe youıre not a good painter,² it said, ³if you can envision it, then maybe youıre trying too hard.²
Jack closed his eyes once more and cleared his mind. In his mind that existed within his dream (which in turn was in his mind) he thought about the stars we saw once in a foreign land. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.
³Hey, not bad,² he mumbled. He saw what had his mind conjured in the night sky. It was pleasant.
³I like these stars better then my own, thanks,² squeaked the marmoset as it tugged on jackıs pan leg. Jack grinned.
³Well, thereıs no more obstacles,² mumbled jack, ³so I should find my way to it soon.²
He began to take a few steps down the dark cliff side path. The marmoset scurried back up the side of the cliff to the small tree it had rested on. The tender branch swayed up and down from the weight of the small primate.
The small marmoset watched with its large eyes as the man walked away into the darkness. It was a bit sad to see him go. Marmosets didnıt like it when there were no distractions. It meant that there was nothing more to do then go down the road and discover that there was nothing at the end. Distractions were much more pleasing then no answers.
Humans had yet to discover this fact, and often they found themselves in a lost depression from searching for answers they were unable to obtain or unable to fathom the possibilities wither or not there were answers to begin with. This does not go to mean that marmosets are wiser then humans.
However, the marmoset has been around longer then the modern human.
The ground was hard like a marble floor. Everything else seemed missing to his senses. The air seemed to be without heat or cold, there was no breeze nor any smells or sensations of that sort. At one point he stepped hard onto the ground, but her nothing arouse from his stomp.
Jack grew frightened. In an hourıs time hands twitched and quivered. He started to want something. As he wandered into the emptiness he began to fixate on questioning in his mind what it was he desired. For a while he thought he was hungry, but his stomach seemed complacent. Then the thought occurred to him that it wasnıt so much that he was hungry, but rather there was something beckoning at the pit of his stomach.
He felt clammy. He mind began to race full of thoughts. What if he could never find anything again in this dreamland, would he spend every night alone in this emptiness? He pictured himself sitting there at night with the little flickering light bulb swaying slightly. Jack began dreading to sleep again. Jack wanted an escape from wherever he was that wasnıt really there.
When his mind couldnıt take being almost nothing more then just a nexus of desperate thoughts without sensation, something occurred to stimulate the sense of sight. A faint white glow fluttered off on some horizon point. He had to squint to make it out.
The light became brighter has he walked closer towards it. After some time he was able to make out vague shapes. There was something large and red near the light that now seemed to be a large lamp. A person rested next to something. He couldnıt make out what it was exactly, but perhaps something organic.
As he grew closer, he could make out the sound of running water. Slowly as he came upon the stage left in the darkness, he saw that it was a small garden. A woman stood waiting for him. Next to her in a large thick red frame was a rusty bronze door.
³So you must be the woman I was told about,² spoke Jack as he came within speaking distance. She smiled politely as she motioned him to take a seat. Suddenly a small glass table and two chairs forged from either, whicker, and bonze materialized.
Jack graciously took a seat. He quickly stole a glance at the large red door that stood a few yards away. Behind it was his answers. It stuck him as odd that such a simple looking door held such potent things behind it.
³It has been some time since Iıve had a visitor here. Most people donıt want to bother with these things. Theyıd rather master things they know then explore things of which they cannot understand.²
The woman had long black hair that ran the length of her back. Jackıs body tightened as she took a seat, the long robes that draped across her body seemed too informal but too regal at the same time. For a brief moment he wondered where it was he had seen such a dress before.
³The Watcher,² he explained, ³she told me you would be here. She wanted me to come here to learn what she knows. You too are Arythian, are you not?²
³I am. But I reside in Jidoor now, and this place is mostly what I consider to be home.²
Jack looked about the garden. It was only then that the scenery was similar to the grove that he had gone to almost a year ago. It all looked wonderful, but he felt falseness to itas if he was standing in a painting of a memory.
³It is a beautiful place,² Jack commented, ³but I donıt see why you choose to live here.²
The woman looked off to the small creek that ran though the middle of the garden. The sound of the water running across the small stones that broke up the stream and the silence seemed to pacify the woman. Where the water came from or where it went to, Jack would never fathom.
³I am somewhat of a prisoner I guess,² she explained, ³Fate. Destiny. Whatever pleases you. I am just here until I die or go through that door. I have to wonder if there is any difference.²
The woman looked as if she was ready to cry. There was a beauty in that sorrow that stabbed Jack deeply. He grimaced. The man looked off towards the large red door.
³Iım sorry that is your situation. Iım in somewhat of a situation myself.²
The woman turned back and smiled at him. ³Iım sorry, Iım not being that gracious of a hostess. I like to think that my pura grows strong with hospitality. Many wanders have some to this place desiring different things, yet all seem to be the same in the end. What is it that you desire?²
The man looked past the bright blue eyes of the black haired woman and stared at the door once more. He cringed slightly as he stared at it.
³Answers. I am a stupid person, and I cannot reason well. So I have been searching for something that would give me my answers, and it all leads to this door.²
The woman stood from her seat and walked slowly over to the door. She turned to face Jack.
³You want to truth behind this door?ı she asked. Jack simply nodded.
The woman opened the door as wide as she could so that the man could see inside. Through the large red frame there was nothing then the darkness he was journeyed though. Jack nearly fell out of his chair. He gasped. His eye twitched.
³I donıt understand.²
³No one ever does.²
³Is it just more of the same of the stuff I came through?²
The woman shook her head. She slowly closed the door. There seemed to be more difficulty in closing the large thick bronze portal then there was to open it. After it slammed shut, she walked over to the chair and gently leaned against it.
³No, when you were coming here I could see you,² she explained, ³but when someone goes through that door they vanish. No one knows what happens to him or her. The best guess is that they lose what little is left of them. They become that void of things no more.²
³A place that is no more,² muttered Jack. A chill went though his spine and rippled into the muscles of his body. He bit his lip.
³I donıt know if I want to go there.²
³Everyone goes there, journey or no. Yet all who did sojourn to this place has gone through that door by choice. Once you reach this door, most other places seem hardly necessary to explore.²
Jack nodded. He stood. The man took one last look at the small garden in which the woman existed and then slowly walked over to the door. His hand reached out for it and he softly touched it.
³Tell me though,² he asked as he pulled his hand back away from the large bronze door, ³why havenıt you gone through the doorway?²
Jack adjusted his glasses. Even with them the card catalog seemed hard to read. He pulled out another long shelf of cards and ran his fingers through them. It struck him as odd that only after a matter of weeks, he was familiar with almost every book in the catalog.
³Those glasses look good on you,² commented Jana. Jack grinned as he pulled himself away from the card catalog. He smiled at the woman, who looked slightly different that day.
³Thanks. I think Iım going to need a strong prescription though, these cards are getting too hard for me to read,² he explained tapping the shelf.
³Thatıs a shame. Have you seen a specialist about it? It sounds like it might be serious,² asked Jana. The man could only smile at the woman and shake his head softly.
³I know whatıs wrong,² he explained, ³but Iım just happy Iıve seen the things I wanted to really see.²
³Iım sorry,² whispered Jana. She glanced at the manıs dark eyes for a moment before turning her gaze to the wooden floor. She gave a small cough and looked back up.
³What are you looking up today, Jack?² she asked with a polite smile. The man returned his attention back to card catalog.
³Well, I have this friend who likes to sing. The problem is she only likes to sing to a certain instrument, so I was trying to look up information about it.²
³Well whatıs it called?² asked Jana.
³Its called a Bundurria I think,² he explained. Jana took a step back. She winced.
³Iım sorry did you say a Bundurria?² she asked. By the look on the womanıs face Jack began to wonder if he had said something wrong.
³Yeah itıs a guitar-like instrument I think See, I know the guitar pretty well, so I was thinking that this Bundurria wouldnıt be too hard either,² he explained. Abruptly Jana closed the card catalog.
³You wonıt find any books about it here,² she explained, ³there are very few books about it. Most of the songs as passed down in an oral tradition,² she explained. Jack frowned.
³Well, are there any books anywhere about it?²
Jana looked to her feet. She looked back up to look into the large glasses the man wore. There was something about the dark earnest expression in his eyes at made her heart sink into her stomach.
³I have one.²
³You have one?² asked Jack. The librarian nodded.
³Its one of a kind. My father wrote it, and nothing must ever happen to it.²
Jack leaned against the shelves of cards and looked at the woman with a big grin. ³You mean youıd let me borrow it? Really?²
Hesitantly, Jana nodded. Almost at once the man gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
³Thank you Jana! You donıt know how much this mean to my friend and me!² he exclaimed. She smiled weakly dazed, only to catch herself to look about at all the library patrons staring at the two.
³Just go read more about monkeys. Iıll take my break and run home and fetch it for you,² she explained almost at once almost racing away from the scene. Jack smiled.
Although he grinned, he felt bitter. He stood next to the card catalog, trying to put his finger on the feeling exactly. Remorse. There were things in this world he never knew were ever there. One such thing was a pretty librarian. He sighed. He definitely was learning, even if it was by the paths of mistakes.
³I have a surprise for you tonight,² spoke Jack as he found himself in the garden once more. The woman with the long black hair turned from where she was resting on the grass to look at the man.
³Oh, what is the surprise?² asked the woman. She leaned over to try and see what the man was hiding behind his back, but failed to notice. She sat up.
Jack turned and looked at the small creek. He closed his eyes for a moment, and tried to recall something pretty he once saw. When his eyes opened, the creek was filled with lanterns floating down the stream. He smiled.
³Remember how I asked you why you stayed here? How youıd hope to sing again?² asked Jack. The woman slowly stood.
³What are you getting at?² she asked the man, learning to try to see what it was behind his back. Jack grinned as he showed her the Bundurria. The woman nearly jumped where she stood from excitement.
³Do you know the songs? How do you know them?² she asked, excitedly. The small red table materialized as the man took a seat, resting the instrument on his knee.
³I learned the two you told me about the other day, the ones you used to sing with your husband,² he explained. Jack couldnıt believe how happy the woman was; she couldnıt stop from dancing in place.
³The one about the tempest and the one about the flowers?² asked the woman. Jack grinned.
³Let me hear it! I want to hear the music,² she cried out in her deep soft voice.
Jack took a deep breath, placed his fingers softly on the neck of the Bundurria, and began to play gentle melody. He closed his eyes and he concentrated on the tune, and slowly let the music grow towards complexity. The strings were soft to his ear, and seemed to blend together with the rolling currents of the stream.
³Thatıs Flowers. Its been ages since I heard that song,² spoke the woman. Jack didnıt speak, but tried his best not to struggle as he fingers plucked the strings tenderly. It was a difficult song to play, but the melody of the tune seemed to flow into his fingertips.
³I used to sing this in a tavern in Jidoor when I was younger. My husband would play the Bundurria while I sang,² she explained.
She closed her eyes and let her hips sway and rock with the music. As the song ended, Jack let it roll into the next song. He looked up to see the smile broaden on the womanıs face.
³Tempest! I used to sing my daughter to sleep with this song. It is such a beautiful song. Do you know what its about?²
³No, Iım afraid not,² replied Jack. The woman began to sway her hands with the flow of the melody.
³Itıs a sweet, sweet song,² she explained, ³its about Arythian things, like feeling of water on oneıs face. Its that one desperate moment of in everyoneıs life when all they want is to feel, and to love with as much energy of a tempest. Itıs a difficult feeling to describe.²
³Thatıs why it is in song, Iıd think.²
The woman closed her eyes and lets her body sway to the music. Her hands began to twirl about around her face and shoulders. Inside she felt like she did as a child, sitting along the roadside in the caravan. As she let the music take her away like water in the stream, she began to sing in a whisper to herself.
³The waterıs kiss is on my lips as my heart is opened wide. These kisses are sweet like my tears of what I leave behind. At least I knew your passion, tempest. At least I knew. At least I knew. At least I knew.²
The woman stopped singing and began to cry. For a moment Jack stopped playing the song, but then instead decided to continue to play. It was a pretty song. As his fingers strummed through the cords, his eyes turned to the large red door. He closed the eyes. For the moment he didnıt want to see anything and only hear the sound of the echo of strings.
³I donıt think youıve been through the periodicals before,² explained Jana as he handed the man a thick stack of newspapers. Jack took a look at the pile and adjusted his think wide glasses to make sure he was seeing clearly.
³These are all of them? The ones about music?² he asked. Jana rubbed her shoulder as she looked at the large pile.
³Yeah, these go back about 20 years. Before then we didnıt really have any music periodicals,² she explained. The man picked up one of the papers from the top and squinted, as he looked it over.
³The print is pretty small.²
³Paper is expensive.²
The man rubbed his eyes. He shook his head and gave a deep sigh. His put his head down on the table, and grimaced. He pounded his head on the table in frustration. Jana stepped back.
³I canıt read these. I donıt know how much longer until I can read anything anymore,² he muttered in disgust. Jack rubbed his temples. The woman looked about the library. She saw no one.
³Well, I can read them for you,² she whispered to Jack. She rubbed his shoulder. There was something in that action she liked. Jana watched at the manıs arched back raised and lowered as he took a deep breath.
³If you read them it wouldnıt help much. You donıt know what Iım looking for.²
³What are you looking for?² she asked. Jack simply shook his head, his face still looking down to the desk.
³I really donıt know anymore. Something. I donıt know. Iıve been trying to lose myself in the trivialities, but these little things seem so important right now.²
The librarian took a seat next to the man so she could see the expression on his tried face. Those hungry dark eyes seemed so desolate now. It was if they were consuming all that they could but it still failed to fill a void deep within him.
³Well, what triviality were you trying to accomplish? Thatıs a place to start,² said Jana, faltering some in her words. She really didnıt know what to say.
Jack paused and thought. ³There was this woman that sang a very pretty song once. A colporteur from Aryth. She lives in Jidoor now, and I want to learn about her. I want to meet her.²
Jana smiled softly in a way that she hadnıt done before. It was a bitter smile, lacking any false politeness but embellished in sincerity. It reminded him of a smile he had only seen in his dreams. As he looked at her, although blurry to his eyes, it struck him who was it that had given him such a bitter smile before--smile belonging to raindrops.
³Thereıs only one former colporteur who was ever a singer in Jidoor. She is my mother,² spoke Jana. The two looked at each other as if realizing something, yet they did not know what. It was as if they finished a puzzle without either knowing they had the missing pieces.
³May I meet her Jana? Can I meet your mom?² asked Jack. The woman nodded.
³I always see her in the evenings, you can come and say hello,² she explained.
³Oh, you`re back again,² warbled the marmoset as he slowly crawled to the edge of a branch. Its large eyes shined in the light of the moon so much it seemed almost as if they were stars themselves.
Jack smiled at his small fuzzy friend up in the tree. ³Yes, Iım back.²
³Did you figure out what you were going to do?² he asked the man. Jack nodded.
³Iım going to do nothing,² he explained. The small marmoset tilted its head to the side.
³Nothing?² it asked. Again, Jack nodded.
³Yeah. Nothing. Iıve been reading. Learning. And I realized a lot of things,² explained the man triumphantly. The small mammal looked on curiously.
³What did you learn?² squeaked out the marmosetıs voice.
³First,² began Jack, ³I learned that this boulder here shouldnıt be here. Itıs composed of shale where everything else around here is volcanic rock. Secondly, this is the land of dreams. How are there obstacles unless I will them to be?²
As Jack spoke the large boulder that blocked his path began to fade away into the darkness of the night. The large bright eyes of the marmoset turned to stare at the vanishing rock, only to look back at the man with mild astonishment.
³Was there someone who met the rock by claiming the rock wasnıt there in that book you read?² asked the marmoset. Jack shrugged and walked over the ground where the large boulder once stood.
³I donıt remember,² he spoke, ³but I doubt this was in my predisposition.²
Jack stood in the boulderıs spot looking up into the night sky. He looked at the moon and the blue glow it emitted on this evening. He closed his eyes. The sparse stars that filled the night sky began to flicker with a brighter intensity. Slowly new stars began to appear in the empty void. Slowly they came at first as they filled in the usual constellations of childhood memory. The manıs expression became taught as the stars slowly stopped appearing.
He opened his eyes. Jack was disappointed.
³I was hoping I could do better, but it somewhat proves my hypothesis,² explained Jack. By this time the marmoset had scurried down to the manıs legs and looked up at the stars and Jackıs face.
³What was it that you were thinking?² squeaked the marmoset.
³I was hoping that this place was nothing more then a blank canvas that one can paint with the mind. I added stars but what I envisioned was something more then this,² ex explained. The marmoset stood on its hind lets, holding on the jackıs pants as it pointed upwards.
³Maybe youıre not a good painter,² it said, ³if you can envision it, then maybe youıre trying too hard.²
Jack closed his eyes once more and cleared his mind. In his mind that existed within his dream (which in turn was in his mind) he thought about the stars we saw once in a foreign land. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.
³Hey, not bad,² he mumbled. He saw what had his mind conjured in the night sky. It was pleasant.
³I like these stars better then my own, thanks,² squeaked the marmoset as it tugged on jackıs pan leg. Jack grinned.
³Well, thereıs no more obstacles,² mumbled jack, ³so I should find my way to it soon.²
He began to take a few steps down the dark cliff side path. The marmoset scurried back up the side of the cliff to the small tree it had rested on. The tender branch swayed up and down from the weight of the small primate.
The small marmoset watched with its large eyes as the man walked away into the darkness. It was a bit sad to see him go. Marmosets didnıt like it when there were no distractions. It meant that there was nothing more to do then go down the road and discover that there was nothing at the end. Distractions were much more pleasing then no answers.
Humans had yet to discover this fact, and often they found themselves in a lost depression from searching for answers they were unable to obtain or unable to fathom the possibilities wither or not there were answers to begin with. This does not go to mean that marmosets are wiser then humans.
However, the marmoset has been around longer then the modern human.
The ground was hard like a marble floor. Everything else seemed missing to his senses. The air seemed to be without heat or cold, there was no breeze nor any smells or sensations of that sort. At one point he stepped hard onto the ground, but her nothing arouse from his stomp.
Jack grew frightened. In an hourıs time hands twitched and quivered. He started to want something. As he wandered into the emptiness he began to fixate on questioning in his mind what it was he desired. For a while he thought he was hungry, but his stomach seemed complacent. Then the thought occurred to him that it wasnıt so much that he was hungry, but rather there was something beckoning at the pit of his stomach.
He felt clammy. He mind began to race full of thoughts. What if he could never find anything again in this dreamland, would he spend every night alone in this emptiness? He pictured himself sitting there at night with the little flickering light bulb swaying slightly. Jack began dreading to sleep again. Jack wanted an escape from wherever he was that wasnıt really there.
When his mind couldnıt take being almost nothing more then just a nexus of desperate thoughts without sensation, something occurred to stimulate the sense of sight. A faint white glow fluttered off on some horizon point. He had to squint to make it out.
The light became brighter has he walked closer towards it. After some time he was able to make out vague shapes. There was something large and red near the light that now seemed to be a large lamp. A person rested next to something. He couldnıt make out what it was exactly, but perhaps something organic.
As he grew closer, he could make out the sound of running water. Slowly as he came upon the stage left in the darkness, he saw that it was a small garden. A woman stood waiting for him. Next to her in a large thick red frame was a rusty bronze door.
³So you must be the woman I was told about,² spoke Jack as he came within speaking distance. She smiled politely as she motioned him to take a seat. Suddenly a small glass table and two chairs forged from either, whicker, and bonze materialized.
Jack graciously took a seat. He quickly stole a glance at the large red door that stood a few yards away. Behind it was his answers. It stuck him as odd that such a simple looking door held such potent things behind it.
³It has been some time since Iıve had a visitor here. Most people donıt want to bother with these things. Theyıd rather master things they know then explore things of which they cannot understand.²
The woman had long black hair that ran the length of her back. Jackıs body tightened as she took a seat, the long robes that draped across her body seemed too informal but too regal at the same time. For a brief moment he wondered where it was he had seen such a dress before.
³The Watcher,² he explained, ³she told me you would be here. She wanted me to come here to learn what she knows. You too are Arythian, are you not?²
³I am. But I reside in Jidoor now, and this place is mostly what I consider to be home.²
Jack looked about the garden. It was only then that the scenery was similar to the grove that he had gone to almost a year ago. It all looked wonderful, but he felt falseness to itas if he was standing in a painting of a memory.
³It is a beautiful place,² Jack commented, ³but I donıt see why you choose to live here.²
The woman looked off to the small creek that ran though the middle of the garden. The sound of the water running across the small stones that broke up the stream and the silence seemed to pacify the woman. Where the water came from or where it went to, Jack would never fathom.
³I am somewhat of a prisoner I guess,² she explained, ³Fate. Destiny. Whatever pleases you. I am just here until I die or go through that door. I have to wonder if there is any difference.²
The woman looked as if she was ready to cry. There was a beauty in that sorrow that stabbed Jack deeply. He grimaced. The man looked off towards the large red door.
³Iım sorry that is your situation. Iım in somewhat of a situation myself.²
The woman turned back and smiled at him. ³Iım sorry, Iım not being that gracious of a hostess. I like to think that my pura grows strong with hospitality. Many wanders have some to this place desiring different things, yet all seem to be the same in the end. What is it that you desire?²
The man looked past the bright blue eyes of the black haired woman and stared at the door once more. He cringed slightly as he stared at it.
³Answers. I am a stupid person, and I cannot reason well. So I have been searching for something that would give me my answers, and it all leads to this door.²
The woman stood from her seat and walked slowly over to the door. She turned to face Jack.
³You want to truth behind this door?ı she asked. Jack simply nodded.
The woman opened the door as wide as she could so that the man could see inside. Through the large red frame there was nothing then the darkness he was journeyed though. Jack nearly fell out of his chair. He gasped. His eye twitched.
³I donıt understand.²
³No one ever does.²
³Is it just more of the same of the stuff I came through?²
The woman shook her head. She slowly closed the door. There seemed to be more difficulty in closing the large thick bronze portal then there was to open it. After it slammed shut, she walked over to the chair and gently leaned against it.
³No, when you were coming here I could see you,² she explained, ³but when someone goes through that door they vanish. No one knows what happens to him or her. The best guess is that they lose what little is left of them. They become that void of things no more.²
³A place that is no more,² muttered Jack. A chill went though his spine and rippled into the muscles of his body. He bit his lip.
³I donıt know if I want to go there.²
³Everyone goes there, journey or no. Yet all who did sojourn to this place has gone through that door by choice. Once you reach this door, most other places seem hardly necessary to explore.²
Jack nodded. He stood. The man took one last look at the small garden in which the woman existed and then slowly walked over to the door. His hand reached out for it and he softly touched it.
³Tell me though,² he asked as he pulled his hand back away from the large bronze door, ³why havenıt you gone through the doorway?²
Jack adjusted his glasses. Even with them the card catalog seemed hard to read. He pulled out another long shelf of cards and ran his fingers through them. It struck him as odd that only after a matter of weeks, he was familiar with almost every book in the catalog.
³Those glasses look good on you,² commented Jana. Jack grinned as he pulled himself away from the card catalog. He smiled at the woman, who looked slightly different that day.
³Thanks. I think Iım going to need a strong prescription though, these cards are getting too hard for me to read,² he explained tapping the shelf.
³Thatıs a shame. Have you seen a specialist about it? It sounds like it might be serious,² asked Jana. The man could only smile at the woman and shake his head softly.
³I know whatıs wrong,² he explained, ³but Iım just happy Iıve seen the things I wanted to really see.²
³Iım sorry,² whispered Jana. She glanced at the manıs dark eyes for a moment before turning her gaze to the wooden floor. She gave a small cough and looked back up.
³What are you looking up today, Jack?² she asked with a polite smile. The man returned his attention back to card catalog.
³Well, I have this friend who likes to sing. The problem is she only likes to sing to a certain instrument, so I was trying to look up information about it.²
³Well whatıs it called?² asked Jana.
³Its called a Bundurria I think,² he explained. Jana took a step back. She winced.
³Iım sorry did you say a Bundurria?² she asked. By the look on the womanıs face Jack began to wonder if he had said something wrong.
³Yeah itıs a guitar-like instrument I think See, I know the guitar pretty well, so I was thinking that this Bundurria wouldnıt be too hard either,² he explained. Abruptly Jana closed the card catalog.
³You wonıt find any books about it here,² she explained, ³there are very few books about it. Most of the songs as passed down in an oral tradition,² she explained. Jack frowned.
³Well, are there any books anywhere about it?²
Jana looked to her feet. She looked back up to look into the large glasses the man wore. There was something about the dark earnest expression in his eyes at made her heart sink into her stomach.
³I have one.²
³You have one?² asked Jack. The librarian nodded.
³Its one of a kind. My father wrote it, and nothing must ever happen to it.²
Jack leaned against the shelves of cards and looked at the woman with a big grin. ³You mean youıd let me borrow it? Really?²
Hesitantly, Jana nodded. Almost at once the man gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
³Thank you Jana! You donıt know how much this mean to my friend and me!² he exclaimed. She smiled weakly dazed, only to catch herself to look about at all the library patrons staring at the two.
³Just go read more about monkeys. Iıll take my break and run home and fetch it for you,² she explained almost at once almost racing away from the scene. Jack smiled.
Although he grinned, he felt bitter. He stood next to the card catalog, trying to put his finger on the feeling exactly. Remorse. There were things in this world he never knew were ever there. One such thing was a pretty librarian. He sighed. He definitely was learning, even if it was by the paths of mistakes.
³I have a surprise for you tonight,² spoke Jack as he found himself in the garden once more. The woman with the long black hair turned from where she was resting on the grass to look at the man.
³Oh, what is the surprise?² asked the woman. She leaned over to try and see what the man was hiding behind his back, but failed to notice. She sat up.
Jack turned and looked at the small creek. He closed his eyes for a moment, and tried to recall something pretty he once saw. When his eyes opened, the creek was filled with lanterns floating down the stream. He smiled.
³Remember how I asked you why you stayed here? How youıd hope to sing again?² asked Jack. The woman slowly stood.
³What are you getting at?² she asked the man, learning to try to see what it was behind his back. Jack grinned as he showed her the Bundurria. The woman nearly jumped where she stood from excitement.
³Do you know the songs? How do you know them?² she asked, excitedly. The small red table materialized as the man took a seat, resting the instrument on his knee.
³I learned the two you told me about the other day, the ones you used to sing with your husband,² he explained. Jack couldnıt believe how happy the woman was; she couldnıt stop from dancing in place.
³The one about the tempest and the one about the flowers?² asked the woman. Jack grinned.
³Let me hear it! I want to hear the music,² she cried out in her deep soft voice.
Jack took a deep breath, placed his fingers softly on the neck of the Bundurria, and began to play gentle melody. He closed his eyes and he concentrated on the tune, and slowly let the music grow towards complexity. The strings were soft to his ear, and seemed to blend together with the rolling currents of the stream.
³Thatıs Flowers. Its been ages since I heard that song,² spoke the woman. Jack didnıt speak, but tried his best not to struggle as he fingers plucked the strings tenderly. It was a difficult song to play, but the melody of the tune seemed to flow into his fingertips.
³I used to sing this in a tavern in Jidoor when I was younger. My husband would play the Bundurria while I sang,² she explained.
She closed her eyes and let her hips sway and rock with the music. As the song ended, Jack let it roll into the next song. He looked up to see the smile broaden on the womanıs face.
³Tempest! I used to sing my daughter to sleep with this song. It is such a beautiful song. Do you know what its about?²
³No, Iım afraid not,² replied Jack. The woman began to sway her hands with the flow of the melody.
³Itıs a sweet, sweet song,² she explained, ³its about Arythian things, like feeling of water on oneıs face. Its that one desperate moment of in everyoneıs life when all they want is to feel, and to love with as much energy of a tempest. Itıs a difficult feeling to describe.²
³Thatıs why it is in song, Iıd think.²
The woman closed her eyes and lets her body sway to the music. Her hands began to twirl about around her face and shoulders. Inside she felt like she did as a child, sitting along the roadside in the caravan. As she let the music take her away like water in the stream, she began to sing in a whisper to herself.
³The waterıs kiss is on my lips as my heart is opened wide. These kisses are sweet like my tears of what I leave behind. At least I knew your passion, tempest. At least I knew. At least I knew. At least I knew.²
The woman stopped singing and began to cry. For a moment Jack stopped playing the song, but then instead decided to continue to play. It was a pretty song. As his fingers strummed through the cords, his eyes turned to the large red door. He closed the eyes. For the moment he didnıt want to see anything and only hear the sound of the echo of strings.
³I donıt think youıve been through the periodicals before,² explained Jana as he handed the man a thick stack of newspapers. Jack took a look at the pile and adjusted his think wide glasses to make sure he was seeing clearly.
³These are all of them? The ones about music?² he asked. Jana rubbed her shoulder as she looked at the large pile.
³Yeah, these go back about 20 years. Before then we didnıt really have any music periodicals,² she explained. The man picked up one of the papers from the top and squinted, as he looked it over.
³The print is pretty small.²
³Paper is expensive.²
The man rubbed his eyes. He shook his head and gave a deep sigh. His put his head down on the table, and grimaced. He pounded his head on the table in frustration. Jana stepped back.
³I canıt read these. I donıt know how much longer until I can read anything anymore,² he muttered in disgust. Jack rubbed his temples. The woman looked about the library. She saw no one.
³Well, I can read them for you,² she whispered to Jack. She rubbed his shoulder. There was something in that action she liked. Jana watched at the manıs arched back raised and lowered as he took a deep breath.
³If you read them it wouldnıt help much. You donıt know what Iım looking for.²
³What are you looking for?² she asked. Jack simply shook his head, his face still looking down to the desk.
³I really donıt know anymore. Something. I donıt know. Iıve been trying to lose myself in the trivialities, but these little things seem so important right now.²
The librarian took a seat next to the man so she could see the expression on his tried face. Those hungry dark eyes seemed so desolate now. It was if they were consuming all that they could but it still failed to fill a void deep within him.
³Well, what triviality were you trying to accomplish? Thatıs a place to start,² said Jana, faltering some in her words. She really didnıt know what to say.
Jack paused and thought. ³There was this woman that sang a very pretty song once. A colporteur from Aryth. She lives in Jidoor now, and I want to learn about her. I want to meet her.²
Jana smiled softly in a way that she hadnıt done before. It was a bitter smile, lacking any false politeness but embellished in sincerity. It reminded him of a smile he had only seen in his dreams. As he looked at her, although blurry to his eyes, it struck him who was it that had given him such a bitter smile before--smile belonging to raindrops.
³Thereıs only one former colporteur who was ever a singer in Jidoor. She is my mother,² spoke Jana. The two looked at each other as if realizing something, yet they did not know what. It was as if they finished a puzzle without either knowing they had the missing pieces.
³May I meet her Jana? Can I meet your mom?² asked Jack. The woman nodded.
³I always see her in the evenings, you can come and say hello,² she explained.
* * *
An old woman sat in a wheelchair by the window. Her head bobbled on her shoulders. Her body was limp in appearance but still too rigid to pry out of the chair. She stared out at the storm clouds with a blank but doleful expression.
Carefully Jana opened the door. The two walked into the nursing room. It was cluttered with different glass jars and bottles. On the ground were knitted rugs and In a way it reminded him of the round stone building he had seen in Aryth more then a year ago. The room was cold. Jana stepped over to the bed and picked up a blanket. She wrapped it up around the old woman and hugged her tightly.
³Jack,² spoke Jana, ³this is Sanija-nu, my mom.²
The man walked over from the doorway to the window. Even with his failing sight he could notice the womanıs lack of movement. Jack crouched down and looked the woman in the eyes. They looked at the same fixed position far away, almost without blinking.
³When my father died, she stopped singing. After a while she stopped doing a lot of things, and eventually she simply went catatonic like this,² Jana said as she ran her fingers through her motherıs grey hairs.
³My mother she passed away from grief when my father died,² spoke Jack. He found his thumb petting the womanıs geek gently. A tear fell from her empty eyes. Jack bit his lip.
³The only time she contacts us,² explained Jana, ³is she always cries when it rains. I wish I knew why.²
Jack looked up at her. ³You do know,² he muttered, ³you donıt want to admit it because it seems ridiculous.²
³I donıt know what youıre talking about Jack.²
³She wants to feel the rain on her face.²
Janaıs body froze. She looked at the man and understood that he was serious. Then Jana shook her head to herself partly in disbelief and partly in guilt.
³Yes but we could get in trouble for this,² she muttered. Jack gestured outside.
³Youıre concerned about getting in trouble? Where does trouble fall into this? Even if we get yelled at it is only words. It isnıt feeling. Who cares what happens. Lets just²
His voice trailed off. He didnıt know what he was doing anymore. All he knew was there was a feeling inside of him he wasnıt sure of. It was a feeling that desired beautiful things. It craved for all things poetic. As he stood before Jana and Sanija-nu, it was as if he had come full circle.
Without speaking, Jana crouched down to undo the clamps to the old womanıs wheel chair. She began to roll it to the door. Only momentarily she looked at jack to see if he would come along with her. He stepped up and stood beside the woman as the rolled Janaıs mother down the corridor and out the back door.
It was not the violent storm like in the song, but a soft sprinkle. Tears rolled from Sanija-nuıs eyes. Jack wished for a stronger storm, but this would have to do. He wanted to let her feel again what it was to exist within the eggshell of reality. He had to let her feel the kisses from the sky.
Jana looked at her mother and cried. She wasnıt sure why. Jack put his arm on her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around her side and rested his head into his chest. It felt good, as if a burden was no longer pressed upon her.
Jack watched the womanıs expressionless face as the water dripped across it. Her hair was soaked and her clothing soggy. Yet Jack knew this was something special. He didnıt know why. But for some reason, he simply stopped caring about the answers to those questions. The only thing that bothered him was that there was nothing left to keep Sanija-nu locked away in her prison of dreams. There was only one exit, and that was through a large bronze door.
The black-haired woman spoke little. There were only a few things to say. For most of the hours spent dreaming the two merely sat at the edge of the stream listening to water as it flowed in from the darkness into the garden and flowed back out of it.
He had wondered if he was wasting his time. Every second seemed so precious now. It seemed funny to him now that with so little limited time he squandered so much of it on little things. But then again, there was not too much difference between a big thing and a little thing.
³Whatıs Janaıs real name?² asked Jack eventually. Sanija-nu closed her eyes as she tried to remember. She opened them slowly.
³Janahuten-nu.²
³I donıt see why she doesnıt like that name,² muttered Jack, ³I think itıs a pretty name. It is something to be proud of.²
³Her father picked it out.²
Jack pulled off his boots and socks. He pushed his body down closer to the stream and sank his feet into the water. The man turned to the raven-haired woman with a perplexed expression on his face.
³Thatıs funny, the water doesnıt feel wet,² he explained. Sanija-nu shook her head.
³You canıt feel things here. You can only see and hear them,² she explained. Jack nodded with a sheepish smile.
³That explains a lot,² he mumbled. Regardless of the lack of wetness, the man kept his feet in the water. He could at least pretend.
As the two sat there, Jack noticed that the woman kept gazing off at the large red door. Heıd look at it himself nervously, only to turn and look at the grass, or the lantern, or the rocks in the water. The garden needed more distractions then just rocks.
³You donıt have to go you know,² he explained, ³Iıll be here until the day comes. Jana is here too. Weıll take care of you.²
She didnıt turn away from looking at the door. Her neck was stretched as far as it could to take in the whole image of the red rectangle standing in the darkness.
³No,² she muttered, ³I want to go now. I have this feeling like he will be there, waiting.²
She turned and looked at the man. ³Yes, I know that goes against what I said earlier. but maybe its because Iım old. Maybe because I want to hope in something just to have hope. All I know is that I can wait and let death take me or I can choose and go through that door.²
³Donıt.²
³How many times can you wheel me into the rain?² asked Sanija-nu, holding her hand to her chest, ³I know you are afraid. Donıt be afraid for me, for I am not.²
Jack looked at the water running around his feet. All of the sudden, he wished his feet felt wet.
³Do me one favor then. Donıt go until I wake,² he asked. Sanija-nu didnıt speak but only load down flat on the lawn. Her long black hair seemed to intertwine with the small green blades of grass.
³Jack,² she muttered as she looked up into the darkness above them, ³will you take care of her? Having me there has kept her going. I donıt want Jana to be alone.²
³She wonıt be. I wonıt let her. I think I need her as much as she needs me. At the name time it goes beyond needs. It is like you saidfate, destiny. Something like that but just not quite.²
The woman closed her eyes. She felt calm. She took a deep breath of the air and slowly let it out though her pert nose.
³Do you believe in destiny Jack?² she asked. The man looked at the stream of water flowing from nothing and returning to nothing.
³If there was,² he muttered in almost a whisper, ³then I wouldnıt need any answers.²
Sometime later, as he began to feel his body wake, he turned to the woman at the gate, who smiled at him softly. Jack felt it was only right to kiss her goodbye, but there was no feeling to her lips. Soon the darkness faded into a muted grey, which filtered swiftly into a distilled sunlight through his cotton curtains.
A son walked up to the podium. He bowed slightly to a priest and then slightly to the people inside the temple. His mouth felt as if it was filled with balls of cotton and his stomach quivered.
He was not a public speaker. He hated crowds, which was completely opposite of his father who later in life was such a people person. Yet he stood there before so many people dressed in black, and it went beyond obligation for him to say something at his fatherıs funeral.
His eyes darted to his mother, who looked at him with a warm smile. She was always such a patient and understanding woman, though those who knew her before he was born claimed that the change in temperament was his fatherıs doing.
He thought for a moment at what he wanted to say, but there were too many things. Few in the modern era could be considered wise men. His father was one of them. His mind fell upon a few choice phrases his father was fond of, and to his lips one of these came.
³My father once told me that going blind had opened his eyes to so many things. He also told me that although he never saw my face he knew that I had gifts that could not be seem by the naked eyes. When I was younger, this thought made me feel special, until I discovered he told almost every person he met the same thing.²
There was muffled laughter. The son smiled and his body relaxed. He pulled his hand away from the podium. ³That was the thing about dad. He knew how to make everyone feel special. No greater was this true then to his friends and family. He would always remind us of how he felt we were his greatest treasures. He always told us that he had gone to the edge of dreams and discovered he had almost skipped the best parts of the journey.²
The son looked at the casket. He felt tears swell in his eyes, but he wanted to hold them back. ³Life was a journey for my father. Not only was it a journey, but it was something beautiful to himsomething magical.²
He couldnıt hold them back anymore, and the man began to cry. ³Thatıs what I loved the most about him. Even the smallest little things were the greatest joys that could be had. I remember anytime he heard a bird he would stop and listen until he could recognize its call. He would collect stamps although he had no idea what they looked like. Anytime someone laughed or cried, he would laugh for cry too just so they wouldnıt have to do it alone!²
He paused and ran his hands across his face. His cheeks were red and puffy. ³And he knew things things no one else but you could possibly know. He knew how you felt deep inside. Mom told me when they first really met he asked to see my grandmother and take her out in the rain. She had no idea how dad knew grandma was so fond of the rain, but he knew without ever meeting her. It was things like that which made him unique²
A thought came across the manıs mind. The last thing he father asked for was for it to rain. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It suddenly made sense to him.
³I used to think when people told someone to liveı, it was a useless and trite expression. They were already living. But now when I think about my father, and how he went through his life. He lived. He lived by feeling everything he could. He lived by savoring each day and wanting to use every sense to experience every sensation there could possible be.²
He put his hands back on the podium and looked out across the large crowd. His father knew so many people. ³From his life I think I learned the greatest gift of allto cherish life. If I do this, then I think there is nothing greater I could do to honor my fatherıs passing.²
With those words the man slightly bowed to the people in the temple. He turned and slightly bowed to the priest. He walked over and kissed his fatherıs coffin, and then he took his seat.
It was a cold clear sky outside.
Carefully Jana opened the door. The two walked into the nursing room. It was cluttered with different glass jars and bottles. On the ground were knitted rugs and In a way it reminded him of the round stone building he had seen in Aryth more then a year ago. The room was cold. Jana stepped over to the bed and picked up a blanket. She wrapped it up around the old woman and hugged her tightly.
³Jack,² spoke Jana, ³this is Sanija-nu, my mom.²
The man walked over from the doorway to the window. Even with his failing sight he could notice the womanıs lack of movement. Jack crouched down and looked the woman in the eyes. They looked at the same fixed position far away, almost without blinking.
³When my father died, she stopped singing. After a while she stopped doing a lot of things, and eventually she simply went catatonic like this,² Jana said as she ran her fingers through her motherıs grey hairs.
³My mother she passed away from grief when my father died,² spoke Jack. He found his thumb petting the womanıs geek gently. A tear fell from her empty eyes. Jack bit his lip.
³The only time she contacts us,² explained Jana, ³is she always cries when it rains. I wish I knew why.²
Jack looked up at her. ³You do know,² he muttered, ³you donıt want to admit it because it seems ridiculous.²
³I donıt know what youıre talking about Jack.²
³She wants to feel the rain on her face.²
Janaıs body froze. She looked at the man and understood that he was serious. Then Jana shook her head to herself partly in disbelief and partly in guilt.
³Yes but we could get in trouble for this,² she muttered. Jack gestured outside.
³Youıre concerned about getting in trouble? Where does trouble fall into this? Even if we get yelled at it is only words. It isnıt feeling. Who cares what happens. Lets just²
His voice trailed off. He didnıt know what he was doing anymore. All he knew was there was a feeling inside of him he wasnıt sure of. It was a feeling that desired beautiful things. It craved for all things poetic. As he stood before Jana and Sanija-nu, it was as if he had come full circle.
Without speaking, Jana crouched down to undo the clamps to the old womanıs wheel chair. She began to roll it to the door. Only momentarily she looked at jack to see if he would come along with her. He stepped up and stood beside the woman as the rolled Janaıs mother down the corridor and out the back door.
It was not the violent storm like in the song, but a soft sprinkle. Tears rolled from Sanija-nuıs eyes. Jack wished for a stronger storm, but this would have to do. He wanted to let her feel again what it was to exist within the eggshell of reality. He had to let her feel the kisses from the sky.
Jana looked at her mother and cried. She wasnıt sure why. Jack put his arm on her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around her side and rested his head into his chest. It felt good, as if a burden was no longer pressed upon her.
Jack watched the womanıs expressionless face as the water dripped across it. Her hair was soaked and her clothing soggy. Yet Jack knew this was something special. He didnıt know why. But for some reason, he simply stopped caring about the answers to those questions. The only thing that bothered him was that there was nothing left to keep Sanija-nu locked away in her prison of dreams. There was only one exit, and that was through a large bronze door.
The black-haired woman spoke little. There were only a few things to say. For most of the hours spent dreaming the two merely sat at the edge of the stream listening to water as it flowed in from the darkness into the garden and flowed back out of it.
He had wondered if he was wasting his time. Every second seemed so precious now. It seemed funny to him now that with so little limited time he squandered so much of it on little things. But then again, there was not too much difference between a big thing and a little thing.
³Whatıs Janaıs real name?² asked Jack eventually. Sanija-nu closed her eyes as she tried to remember. She opened them slowly.
³Janahuten-nu.²
³I donıt see why she doesnıt like that name,² muttered Jack, ³I think itıs a pretty name. It is something to be proud of.²
³Her father picked it out.²
Jack pulled off his boots and socks. He pushed his body down closer to the stream and sank his feet into the water. The man turned to the raven-haired woman with a perplexed expression on his face.
³Thatıs funny, the water doesnıt feel wet,² he explained. Sanija-nu shook her head.
³You canıt feel things here. You can only see and hear them,² she explained. Jack nodded with a sheepish smile.
³That explains a lot,² he mumbled. Regardless of the lack of wetness, the man kept his feet in the water. He could at least pretend.
As the two sat there, Jack noticed that the woman kept gazing off at the large red door. Heıd look at it himself nervously, only to turn and look at the grass, or the lantern, or the rocks in the water. The garden needed more distractions then just rocks.
³You donıt have to go you know,² he explained, ³Iıll be here until the day comes. Jana is here too. Weıll take care of you.²
She didnıt turn away from looking at the door. Her neck was stretched as far as it could to take in the whole image of the red rectangle standing in the darkness.
³No,² she muttered, ³I want to go now. I have this feeling like he will be there, waiting.²
She turned and looked at the man. ³Yes, I know that goes against what I said earlier. but maybe its because Iım old. Maybe because I want to hope in something just to have hope. All I know is that I can wait and let death take me or I can choose and go through that door.²
³Donıt.²
³How many times can you wheel me into the rain?² asked Sanija-nu, holding her hand to her chest, ³I know you are afraid. Donıt be afraid for me, for I am not.²
Jack looked at the water running around his feet. All of the sudden, he wished his feet felt wet.
³Do me one favor then. Donıt go until I wake,² he asked. Sanija-nu didnıt speak but only load down flat on the lawn. Her long black hair seemed to intertwine with the small green blades of grass.
³Jack,² she muttered as she looked up into the darkness above them, ³will you take care of her? Having me there has kept her going. I donıt want Jana to be alone.²
³She wonıt be. I wonıt let her. I think I need her as much as she needs me. At the name time it goes beyond needs. It is like you saidfate, destiny. Something like that but just not quite.²
The woman closed her eyes. She felt calm. She took a deep breath of the air and slowly let it out though her pert nose.
³Do you believe in destiny Jack?² she asked. The man looked at the stream of water flowing from nothing and returning to nothing.
³If there was,² he muttered in almost a whisper, ³then I wouldnıt need any answers.²
Sometime later, as he began to feel his body wake, he turned to the woman at the gate, who smiled at him softly. Jack felt it was only right to kiss her goodbye, but there was no feeling to her lips. Soon the darkness faded into a muted grey, which filtered swiftly into a distilled sunlight through his cotton curtains.
A son walked up to the podium. He bowed slightly to a priest and then slightly to the people inside the temple. His mouth felt as if it was filled with balls of cotton and his stomach quivered.
He was not a public speaker. He hated crowds, which was completely opposite of his father who later in life was such a people person. Yet he stood there before so many people dressed in black, and it went beyond obligation for him to say something at his fatherıs funeral.
His eyes darted to his mother, who looked at him with a warm smile. She was always such a patient and understanding woman, though those who knew her before he was born claimed that the change in temperament was his fatherıs doing.
He thought for a moment at what he wanted to say, but there were too many things. Few in the modern era could be considered wise men. His father was one of them. His mind fell upon a few choice phrases his father was fond of, and to his lips one of these came.
³My father once told me that going blind had opened his eyes to so many things. He also told me that although he never saw my face he knew that I had gifts that could not be seem by the naked eyes. When I was younger, this thought made me feel special, until I discovered he told almost every person he met the same thing.²
There was muffled laughter. The son smiled and his body relaxed. He pulled his hand away from the podium. ³That was the thing about dad. He knew how to make everyone feel special. No greater was this true then to his friends and family. He would always remind us of how he felt we were his greatest treasures. He always told us that he had gone to the edge of dreams and discovered he had almost skipped the best parts of the journey.²
The son looked at the casket. He felt tears swell in his eyes, but he wanted to hold them back. ³Life was a journey for my father. Not only was it a journey, but it was something beautiful to himsomething magical.²
He couldnıt hold them back anymore, and the man began to cry. ³Thatıs what I loved the most about him. Even the smallest little things were the greatest joys that could be had. I remember anytime he heard a bird he would stop and listen until he could recognize its call. He would collect stamps although he had no idea what they looked like. Anytime someone laughed or cried, he would laugh for cry too just so they wouldnıt have to do it alone!²
He paused and ran his hands across his face. His cheeks were red and puffy. ³And he knew things things no one else but you could possibly know. He knew how you felt deep inside. Mom told me when they first really met he asked to see my grandmother and take her out in the rain. She had no idea how dad knew grandma was so fond of the rain, but he knew without ever meeting her. It was things like that which made him unique²
A thought came across the manıs mind. The last thing he father asked for was for it to rain. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It suddenly made sense to him.
³I used to think when people told someone to liveı, it was a useless and trite expression. They were already living. But now when I think about my father, and how he went through his life. He lived. He lived by feeling everything he could. He lived by savoring each day and wanting to use every sense to experience every sensation there could possible be.²
He put his hands back on the podium and looked out across the large crowd. His father knew so many people. ³From his life I think I learned the greatest gift of allto cherish life. If I do this, then I think there is nothing greater I could do to honor my fatherıs passing.²
With those words the man slightly bowed to the people in the temple. He turned and slightly bowed to the priest. He walked over and kissed his fatherıs coffin, and then he took his seat.
It was a cold clear sky outside.