In a Reverie

In a Reverie

A long walk down an empty and decrepit path led weary and heavy-eyed Michael to an opening in the overgrowth.
He caught himself as he nearly walked straight into a large shift in the earth. Michael became careful as he ambled
across the remaining hidden path that had been shadowed by decades of forgotten shrubbery.

Overlooking his thoughts of shifted earth and overgrown trees and bushes, he continued on the path that had now
opened up to a small plateau that was connected to another winding path down a steep hill. Michael peered down
the broken path. It had been littered by the sight of several plastic soda bottles and old bits of newspaper and
cellophane. It led right down to the shore of the chilling Atlantic Ocean. Michael's path had brought him to his
desired destination.

With a look up to the sky Michael was pummeled with a sudden wave of fear. He had a strange crushing sensation,
like a reverse fear of heights. Michael hadn't realized just how clear the night sky had been. The crisp gusts of air
filled Michael's lungs with a pure and fulfilling scent of ocean spray. He could feel the light mist on his skin from the
crashing waves below that were soothing music to his ears. Michael noticed the moon behind him, opposite from the
deadly silent body of water. It had been hanging in the moon as if placed on strings in a theater show. Its reflected
light had shown across the world and onto the steady and slightly-curved horizon that kept calm the eternal feud
between sky and sea. The dark blue sky had been covered with tiny infinitesimal specks of light that the world had
come to know as stars. Their quiescent and glittering light caught Michael's eye and had reminded him of thousands
of tiny flying insects caught on the never-ending web of an absent spider, weaved from the finest and most
luxurious invisible thread. With another look at the moon, appearing ever so solitary in the vast and empty void of
space, he followed its radiating glow of soft albino light over his head to where it met its end at the horizon.
Michael had taken another deep inhale of the purest air he had ever known. Feeling another wave of light mist upon
his face and through his unkempt hair, he pulled out of his coat pocket a miniature black book, whose ends had
been brutally battered and adhesive on the binding nearly withered away.

Tonight had been the night mentioned in the journal of Michael's deceased great-grandfather. What ever he had
seen on this night, approximately thirty years ago, was bound to happen once more, Michael had just known it
would. The last written segment in the book held the clues that had led Michael to this very spot:

"When the moon shines over the forgotten path
When eyes of truth gaze upon this unseen point of knowledge
The world shall know my secret"

He found a cleared spot off of the beaten path that led down to the ocean's crushing arms of fury. There laid down
in position picked with such randomness was a slab of concrete. This rectangular cut hadn't been covered by
anything, not even the tempting weeds it been surrounded by, silently wishing to invade its peaceful solidity with
cracks of rage and fractures of misery. As if it had been calling name with an inaudible voice, Michael proceeded to
find a comfortable position on which to remain sedentary.

Was he meant to wait, or was he to find some sort of way to beckon this deathly secret of his great-grandfather?
Michael became motionlessly furious with his deceased relative. He had known from the depths of his heart that his
secret was meant to be found by him, and no one else. Was now even the time that he was referring to? What had
he meant by writing today's date on the next page after his final words? Had the date July 31st, 2007 meant
anything to what was supposed to be happening. So many unanswered questions had been racing through Michael's
mind. He looked to the ocean with a feeling of almost desperate help. The mist that had been working its way up to
duel with the gusting wind through Michael's hair and on his now moistened skin when he had gazed upon the
horizon directly in the middle of the glowing moonlight, and it had happened.

Michael did not know what exactly was happening, but whatever his great-grandfather had seen at this spot thirty
years ago, Michael was seeing with his own two wide and sleep-deprived eyes. It had started out as a brilliant flash
of white light that had fallen dead center on the horizon immediately in front of where Michael had been sitting. It
had not been coming from any ship or vessel off in the ocean, as Michael did not see anything contaminating the
water, like houseflies dancing on top of televisions, when he had previously looked. Suddenly this sphere of rotating
energy imploded into itself, and had disappeared. It had then exploded from an invisible state, now spiraling around
an unseen center point, penetrating the web of invisible thread of the sky to where it had once more exploded.
Michael had been sure for an odd reason that he had been the only person able to see this magnificent event occur.

The fragments of the second explosion once more imploded into itself, this time creating a sphere of white hot
energy that seared Michael's eyes, causing him to throw his hands in front of his view of some kind of unearthly
energy. Then at once all the light had vanished, and aside from the specks of white Michael could now see where


the light had temporarily blinded him, he saw what had appeared to ingenious mist of shimmering white matter.
Michael was unsure whether he should fear what he had been seeing, or never glance away from what was sure to
be a once-in-a-lifetime event.

The mist began to compact itself into a giant ball of matter. Growing ever larger as Michael had watched, he
exhumed his body off of the ground and stood firmly. Something from the depths of Michael's soul told him to stand
guard, as if to prepare for battle. And then Michael knew what was about happen. The matter began appearing
larger because it had been slowly approaching where Michael stood. And then it stopped just as it had reached
where ocean met shore. Michael stood less than fifty feet from this massive rotating ball of what could only be
described as energy. Michael no longer felt the cool and crisp breeze that had penetrated not only his clothes but
his mind, the breeze that had spoken to his soul telling him that all he can do here is relax and enjoy a wondrous
and breathtaking view. He no longer felt the light mist of ocean spray that had spoken to his mind, telling him that
he can drop his guard and let his heart decide for him.

The white hot energy had stopped, however, all movement around Michael. Not only movement had stopped, but
time itself had stopped. Michael was unsure why only he was allowed free will in the presence of this deathly
matter. Without approving guidance from neither his heart nor his mind, Michael reacted on instinct to walk down
battered path to the halted ocean waves. It was here, Michael had noticed, that the matter did not stop time, but
had oddly caused time to slow down. He felt a tingling sensation as he noticed that the waves were simply moving
at an incredibly slow speed. He absentmindedly placed his hand only millimeters from the wave's intended path,
only to be greeted by the slippery wetness the wave had carried seconds later. His off tingling sensation had passed
from his chest down through his legs, and he was still lost for its explanation.

He felt beckoned to peer up to the bottom of this ball of energy. He no longer felt the blinding light pressing on his
eyes. It had now become more of a soothing light that made Michael feel the most calm he had ever felt. With the
absence of blinding white spots littering his eyes, he felt an odd wish to grasp this matter. Michael had now realized
that this ball, albeit its large and defying size he had once saw it as, was no larger than himself. It seemed almost
natural that this sphere should fit perfectly into his grasp. The tingling sensation had now passed into his shoulders
and through his arms, taking refuge in each of his fingers that were now reaching upward towards the energy.

Any thought of questioning or fear had since left him when the sphere began to descend towards Michael. As far as
anything else besides this moment, Michael had never felt a stronger attraction to anything in his entire life. A
reverie of happiness and peace had passed through him, which seemed to be resonating from within this omniscient
and all-powerful force that had chosen Michael as its vessel to be passed to and learned by all of humanity. Hope
and the promise of prosperity had blossomed from this bud of amazement. The warm beckoning of the light was just
beyond the grasp of Michael. He could feel shards of new life and understanding pierce through the minds of the
ones who commit crime against one another, where they will in a matter of only time recognize their wrongdoing.
Existing within this indescribable icon of existence were the ideas and keys that would be discovered by those only
wanting and searching for a better and more stable way to live out life. Life, on such a level that was not to be
found anywhere near the farthest reaches of the strands of light that beckon and call upon those honest and pure
beings, was not even the proper word to use in order to come close to the feeling that had penetrated Michael's
heart and mind.

It was love that Michael had felt surging through his body. It was love that he had felt racing through his veins,
flowing into his heart and throughout his mind. This vessel of light had surpassed Michael's feelings of deprived
satisfaction and honest infatuation with revealing his great-grandfather's secret. The secret was not anything that
man had yet to discover, as Michael had foolishly thought previously for some time. Whatever this mass of energy
was, wherever it had came from, Michael was sure that it had somehow been sent to him by his great-grandfather.
His deceased relative had sent him a message of love, and though Michael had thought it had taken all of his energy
in order to comprehend this encrypted message from beyond, it was in fact, as Michael had then realized, his life
that had been taken.

Michael knew with all of his being that despite him thinking himself to feel completely solid all the way through, he
in fact knew himself to be only a representation of a being that was human. Michael peered down, and half-
expecting it to fall into his hands, the glistening matter of warm and calming energy was no longer there. He knew
not to peer around, for this object of magnificent valor and splendid wonder had passed into him without knowing
it. Instead of reasoning with a silent force that seemed practically primitive, it had become whole with his heart,
his mind, his spirit. He knew now what mankind, the living ones rather than those who have passed onto another
life, have only dreamed about. Love and the idea of peace and hope existed for those who have searched for reason
and truth in the world.

Michael thought of this as he watched the now-rapidly moving waves pummel the sandy shore. Standing with his
bare feet covered in moist sand, he felt a strong mist of ocean spray, or rather the idea of being hit by ocean spray.


His spirit and heart and mind would live forever here, at the beach where his took his last breaths. Michael had
supposed he lost his balance on the broken path, possibly slipping on one of those damned bottles without knowing
it, possibly breaking his fall on the rocks that littered the top of the sandy beach. He knew that his heart would not
let him witness such a tragic event as his own death.

Suddenly Michael whipped around to begin climbing the path where he had taken his fall. If he was correct in his
thought process, if he still had a thought process being that he is newly deceased, someone rather special would be
waiting for him at the concrete slab where he had taken his last seat on the earth. He edged closer and closer to the
slab, but still there had been no sign of the man he had been so eager to converse with. Five feet away with no sign,
three feet away with no sign; He only wanted to see his great-grandfather. He found the exact spot where he had
seen his final landscape as a human. Michael looked from side to side, and still no sign of the man. Why isn't he
showing up, Michael thought as he glanced forward at the thin black line he was so forced to refer to as a horizon.

Minutes passed, even hours now that Michael had thought about it. The webbed sky began to lighten, eventually
taking an orange tint as the sun glistened over top of the steady war that sky had taken upon sea. The twinkling
stars had since become invisible with the change the lighting across the vast ocean and overgrowth at the top of the
hill that covered the last path Michael had taken. There he sat upon the concrete slab, awaiting the arrival of his
great-grandfather, but also awaiting the day when he discovers his relative will never be visiting him.

Michael's body had eventually been found by several beach-goers who often climbed down the broken path for a bit
of privacy. Their homes were just beyond the overgrowth where they had secretly hidden the only path that made
their private little beach accessible. Of course these siblings were not the creators of this heist. Their parents were
to take any credit for creating for themselves their own private getaway. When the body of the boy had been taken
by paramedics, his pockets were emptied in hopes of finding a sliver of information about the boy. The only thing
recovered was a tiny black book with a family name on the front.

The police had gone through the book. Every page had oddly been dated thirty years ago, with the exception of two
pages at the end that included writing. The second-to-last included today's date, July 31st, 2007. But what had
seemed stranger than anything, was the date on the last page that included writing: July 31st, 2037, exactly thirty
years from today. This of course baffled the police and every other ranking official at the crime scene. The police
found it plausible to decide upon two reasons behind the boy's death: He either jumped and killed himself, or
someone pushed him down the hill that led to his death. But with all of the trash flying down the mountain, it
seemed almost impossible to determine if someone else had been present as this crime.

Somehow, without attempting to understand why or how, Michael understood everything. Michael understood the
past, that something had led his great-grandfather to this very spot exactly thirty years ago. He realized that
whatever he was searching for did not occur because he, unlike his great-grandson, did not die because of it. He
understood the present, that the police will eventually track down his family by searching his family name through
the city database. His great-grandfather's notebook would be returned to Michael's family, where the scribbled note
and today's date will be found when searching through it.

Michael also understood the future, that history was to repeat itself in exactly thirty years from today. Someone,
anyone with an inquisitive mind, brave enough to face up to what is real will go searching for answers on a night
just like the previous night. Someone, anyone, will be forced to meet death in the same fashion as Michael had.
Someone will be forced to remain at this beach while another thirty years passes. Will Michael be gone, will he not
be present for history's repetition and for his new relative in thirty years to witness a mind-boggling event that will
literally sweep life out of your eyes.

That future, Michael knew, was yet to be understood. He could only wait for what was bound to happen. He could
only sit on his concrete slab that he thought his great-grandfather had once occupied, and watch as the police and
paramedics carry away his lifeless, mindless, heartless body. He had trouble deciding if this was the heaven he had
so ruthlessly searched for, or hell that he had been chained to in order that he must await the arrival and witness
the brief death of his descendant.