Ascension Both Figurative and Literal

 

            This was the seventh night in a row that Sergei had the same dream. Mere seconds after closing his eyes, he found himself standing in the center of his backyard, the light brush of the freshly mown grass caressing the sides of his feet, a gentle breeze tussled his hair and seemed to carry a light threat in its soft touch. Within seconds of standing alone in the midst of soft grass and a soft breeze, he felt himself slowly ascend, to look down upon the small town he called his home.

              Everything and everyone had grown remarkably small, his new position communicated to him just how far above and unlike he was from everyone else around him. The further he rose from the ground the more aggressive the wind became, threatening to drive him away into the featureless acres of rolling hills and wilderness. He breathed deeply in his newfound situation, blissfully relishing his absolute freedom, his escape from the mundane world of social interaction, social niceties, and the usual inescapable grasp of gravity.

              Like every dream he had before, he continued to rise, facing more and more aggressive wind, the occasional flock of birds and the thankfully distant airplanes. When everything below disappeared into an unrecognizable smear of color, he began to will himself back down to the surface of the globe.  In a patten very much like his ascension, he slowly descended and once again touched down in his backyard. It was at this moment that he began to feel a mixture of relief and disappointment.

              The freedom, beauty, and grace of his limitless escape also brought with it a sense of disconnection. Wanting to ascend once again, he instead lay down on the grass, staring into the cloud free, open blue sky, thankful to once again be touching something tangible and solid. His eyes began to feel heavy, growing tired of looking into nothingness, while his mind raced from one topic to the next, fabricating solutions to problems that had long plagued him.

              His eyes finally gave up the battle and crept closed, to once again reopen, staring into a poorly painted ceiling that held onto a ceiling fan that dearly needed to be dusted. With a groan, he rolled to his side and looked at the digital clock that read twenty minutes earlier than his yet to sound morning alarm. He slowly sat up, swung his feet over the side of the bed and retrieved a glass of warm water from the kitchen. He leaned against the counter at the edge of the sink and replayed his dream over and over in his mind, wondering if there was some hidden meaning within it all.

              Pulled from his introspection by the sound of his alarm in the other room, he slowly passed through the hallway, turned off the gentle sounds of a singular violin, the kindest of sounds he could find to wake him from sleep. Knowing better than to do so, he flopped down onto his bed, stared once again at the ceiling and made a mental note to clean the ceiling fan when he returned home from work later that afternoon. He pulled himself to his feet, did his morning prayers, ate breakfast, cleaned the kitchen, took a shower and dressed for the day.

              An emptiness filled his chest at the thought of spending another day with a room full of co-workers with whom he had nothing in common. The thought of listening to his co-workers talk about sports, about television, about movies, and what fun they were going to have on the approaching weekend made his chest ache even more. He double checked the heat, the curtains, and the cat food. “Wallet, keys, phone,” he muttered to himself as he walked out the back door.

              Thankful to see that he was leaving fifteen minutes earlier than normal, he decided to stop and pick up a peppermint mocha before condemning himself to another day in the office. The girl at the drive-up coffee stand was overly friendly, touched his hand for a surprisingly long time, and jotted her phone number on the side of his hand before he departed. Sergei made a mental note of the name on her tag, smiled in return, and grudgingly parked near the front door of the office.

              He could feel himself growing heavier and heavier as he approached the front door to join a room full of grown men who behaved like middle school children. Sipping on his mocha, he clocked in as he sat down at his desk, looked over his list of projects for the week, chose one as a place to start and made a conscious effort to ignore the inane chatter going on around him.

              Chest deep in logic and coding, he was forcibly extracted from his self imposed single track mind, realizing that Carl at the desk nearest him was calling his name.

              “Hey, Sergei, wake up man,” he heard him say. “Some of us are getting together for lunch, if you want to join us.”

              “Hey, Carl, no, not today, I have plans,” he said, “thanks for the invite. I’ll see you all when you get back.” He leaned back in his chair and watched the clock click from 11:59 to 12:00. He was the first to rise from his seat. He left the office, took the elevator to the third floor, ordered his lunch and sat on the balcony to watch his co-workers leave as a single mass for who knows what restaurant.

              He took a final sip of his sweet tea, rose from his seat, stood at the railing and sensed the gentle breeze blowing around him. “Wow, this is weird,” he thought. “Here I am, all alone, feeling the wind roll around me and watching everything and everyone far below me. Just like the recurring dream.” With a slight hope that he could recreate the dream in the real world, he took a half step back from the railing, slowly raised his arms and longed to ascend into the chaos of wind and birds far above him.

              Understanding the difference between dream and reality, he returned to his seat, finished his meal and tied together the facts of his everyday life, the imagery of his recurring dream, and the aching loneliness that nearly consumed him every day. He took the elevator back down to his office, entered an empty room, turned on the news feed on his phone, and waited for the inevitable chatter from his soon to return co-workers. Bored with the same news, he made himself a cup of Earl Gray tea and sat down at his computer.

              Four conversations all entered the room as he longed for the never to once again return silence of his work space. Sergei narrowed his thoughts, focused on the work before him, and found himself glancing at the clock every ten minutes, wishing for silence, for peace, and for an intelligent conversation. Five o’clock finally arrived and he clocked out, left the office, and started a conversation with the just arriving janitor, a pleasant, elderly man by the name of Honorio. Despite being a janitor, Honorio was shockingly intelligent, well educated, and knowledgeable in almost every category that Sergei could think of.

              The two men spoke for twenty minutes and Honorio apologetically excused himself, explaining that he needed to get to work and looked forward to their conversation the next day. The two men shook hands, and Sergei could feel himself smiling for the first time in how long, he did not know. “I really need a good Italian dinner tonight,” he said to himself as he pulled out into the street fronting their office.

              Walking into Antonio’s Italian Eatery, he greeted the waitress, saw the phone number written on the side of his hand, excused himself for a moment, and place a call to the girl from the coffee stand, inviting her to join him for dinner. Smiling again, he reserved a table for them, drove to her apartment, and returned to the restaurant, thrilled at the prospect of sitting with someone pretty and who smiled a lot. Sergei and Katherine enjoyed one another’s company, finished their dinner, and he drove her home. He walked her to her door and asked if she would like to have dinner on the coming Friday night.

              Smiling for the third time in one day, he drove home, stood in his backyard and imagined himself ascending above the clouds, wondering if he had delusions of grandeur or were his dreams really an image of a reality that only he understood. Now with a pretty girl to think about and spend time with, he no longer dreamt of ascending to the clouds. It was at that moment that he understood that he was unlike anyone else but now he could focus on Katherine instead of seeing how different he was than all others.

              Having a kind and loving girl to pour himself into and take care of brought a new level of joy into his life that rewired his heart, his brain, and his passion for life. Friday night couldn’t come quick enough, and Sergei picked Katherine up for a seafood dinner, to be followed by a movie, and a pleasant evening at her place drinking wine and listening to music.

Burn It Down

 

            The young boy paused at the edge of the parking lot, having just emerged from his mother’s car. He came to realize that his physical proximity to the rest of the students was a remarkable parallel to his psychological distance from them. He listened as the tires of his mother’s car slowly ground over the gravel as it transferred from parking lot to the road. With a deep sigh and a feeling of dread, Jeffrey knew that immersing himself with the other students was unavoidable.

              Though larger, stronger, and smarter than most, he silently drifted through the mass of students in the main hallway, on his way to the gymnasium for registration. He received his class schedule and his locker number and did his best to avoid eye contact or social interaction. His massive size and dour demeanor both worked in his favor, allowing him to move from room to room with the sounding of each bell, signaling the end of each class.

              After third period, he waited in the hallway until most of the students had moved on, giving him seconds to steal a drink from the water fountain and slip into the next class. He sat alone near the back of class and easily identified the groups of students. The popular kids sat together near the back on the opposite side of the room, the jocks sat together, the cheerleaders were easy enough to spot, and the troublemakers were scattered throughout the classroom, looking surly and depressed.

              Jeffrey kept his attention on his grades, his use of time, and his efforts to avoid interacting with those who didn’t understand him, who didn’t care about the things he cared about, and helping other students who also were trying to avoid being harassed by the cool kids. He grumbled within himself as he was forced to attend pep rallies and sporting events, wishing he could use his time for something of actual value.

              Each lunch period was the same, he sat with the other disconnected students and listened to the inane, foolish, and childish conversations that carried on at the other tables. Fortunately, he and those with him managed to keep their food, avoid conflict with the cliques, and console one another with educated and beneficial conversations. It seemed that each day someone in his group of friends would bring up a new challenge for them, seeking new and exciting ways of making someone else’s life practically better.

              As the week drew to a close, Jeffrey sat at his parents’ dining room table on a Friday night, describing and complaining about the situation at school. He could see the pride and slight confusion in his parents’ eyes as he talked about how dull most of the other students seemed. How distracted most of them were with the world of fashion, with social media, and with the emptiness and vacuousness of the world of entertainment.

              He and his parents finished dinner that evening and Jeffrey cleaned the kitchen while his parents went for a walk. He retired to the family library and began reading “The Lord of the Rings” for at least the eighth time, as far as he could remember. When ten o’clock sounded on the grandfather clock in the hallway, he slipped a bookmark into place, took a shower and went to bed.

              Lying in the semi-darkness, he looked around at all of the things in his room, wondering why he had so much when there were so many people with so little. As he ruminated on his concept, he recalled a comment a friend made at lunch that day about monks that owned nothing and simply followed the instruction and direction of the monastery head, doing nothing from their own desire or will.

              “That sounds like a really good, easy life,” he thought. “Oh, to have someone wise and experienced to follow and learn from would be so good.” He dreamt that night of living alone in a cave, eating only what he could forage from the forest around him and the occasional fish caught from a nearby stream. He woke up feeling refreshed, jotted down the details of his dream, ate breakfast with his mother, as his father had already left for the morning.

              Halfway through the school day, as he and his friends ate lunch together, he relayed the details of his dream and could see looks of wonder and excitement in their eyes. Dozens of ideas were cast around and discussed, each of them wondering just how minimalistic they could live, making life as stripped down and simple as possible. The idea of living with only what was actually needed to thrive and make the best of themselves became their new foundational approach to life.

              As each week passed, Jeffrey and each of his friends continued to challenge one another with reducing their comfort level lower than the next.  Weeks and months passed, and Jeffrey found himself in an emptier and emptier bedroom, making life simpler, easier, and more fulfilling, knowing that he was aiming for something greater than being distracted and comfortable.

              Word began to travel around the school about this group of students who were living like monks, giving away or selling whatever they didn’t need, and rejecting the emptiness and shallowness of typical American life. Jeffrey had reduced his wardrobe down to seven outfits, one for each day of the week. He convinced his mother to pack him only natural, unprocessed foods that contained actual nutrition, free of sugar, fats, and excess salt.

              In an effort to be even more challenging, Jeffrey and his friends began to collect food from fellow classmates that they intended to throw away. He and they began eating more apples, carrot sticks, celery, and boxed milk than he could count. He could see and feel his health improving with his new diet, his simpler life, and a less distracted mind that was now free of social media and pointless entertainment.

              Much to his and their surprise, more and more students joined them in their efforts to simplify and focus on what was truly important. Eventually, a few of the staff members joined in the effort too. A new fund was created to raise money for those in need, clothing was collected to donate to families that were struggling. Lunch leftovers were gathered instead of being disposed of, bringing about a new approach to helping others.

              The principal of the school invited Jeffrey and his closest friends into the office for a discussion and explanation of how all of this came about. When they arrived in the office, they were greeted by the local news channel as well as the principal. In his usual, articulate, and thoughtful manner, Jeffrey explained the first dream that he had, and how he and his friends had been troubled for so long about the waste of time, energy, and money on so many things that offered nothing of value to their lives.

              He and his friends continued their efforts through the end of the school year and through the summer. As the start of the new school year approached, they began to see their movement become the new approach to life for students, not just in their school but in other schools around the county.

              As the school year continued on, Jeffrey was invited to multiple other schools around the county to speak about how it all started, and what motivated him to continue with this difficult path. “Personal sacrifice is never easy,” he said. “We really need to ask ourselves and be honest about what is actually needed to be good, honest, and overall healthy people. How can we call ourselves truly human if we only seek after our own comfort, when so many other people are going without basic needs?”

              Jeffrey’s fourth year of high school ended, and he was offered a position as motivational leader for a major manufacturing company on the other side of the state. By this time in his life, he had developed an articulate and well-formed approach to life that was genuinely motivating others to imitate him and learn to be generous with others rather than aiming for personal comfort. He accepted the role, began earning a remarkable wage, which he generously shared with those in need, maintaining his simple, open, and healthy life. The stress of maintaining an elevated life of comfort and ease was nowhere in sight and he could feel himself becoming more and more at peace as he grew older.

Called to Protect

 

            Kalifa walked three full paces behind his father as they had joined the rest of the men from the tribe. It was the last day of the full moon and as a unified body the men and older boys embarked on a hunting campaign to restock their dwindling food until the arrival of the next full moon. He watched his feet sift through the damp earth but failed to stop moving with the rest of them. Kalifa stood alone as the rest of them quickly dropped flat to the ground at the arrival of another hunting party from a tribe on the other side of the jungle.

              Ten grown men and six older boys lay flat in the dirt, silent, waiting, and carefully listening for any approaching footsteps or signs of danger. The moment passed quickly and as the other tribe disappeared down a path to the far right, the men and the boys all rose to their feet and murmured among themselves.

              “Why are they this far into our land?” one of the men asked. “We need to be careful and assume that they are here for hostile reasons. We cannot allow our women and children to be taken captive while we are seeking for food.”

              “It is very unusual to see them this far from their own land,” Kalifa’s father said. “It would be foolish to continue this hunt, leaving the women, the children, and the village unprotected. We must immediately return.”

              A subtle groan passed through the group of men and boys as they reversed their course and slowly ran back to their village. They all remained low as they moved, keeping a cautious eye to the far right, presuming that the other tribe would be sensitive to their activity.

              “They seem to be taking the long way around toward our village, if that is where they are actually headed,” his father said. “Boys gather the women and children in the community hall in the center of the village. All of the men will position themselves to survey and protect everyone.”

              Kalifa was the largest, the wisest, the bravest, and the strongest of all the boys, and took the role of leader, giving directions to the others. He could envision the entire village, he formulated a plan and guided everyone into the community hall, warning them that another tribe had been spotted a short distance into the jungle. He and the second largest boy stood at the main opening, knowing that it was very possible that scouts from the other tribe could be separate from the rest of the tribe. Both boys held spears, knew how to use them if necessary, and thought through their hundreds of hours of training, ready for any attack.

              Kalifa caught sight of movement at the edge of the jungle, squeezed the shoulder of his friend and lowered him to the ground in a kneeling position. “Be ready to strike if necessary. I see only one, but there could easily be others around us,” he said. “We are the only protection the women and children have. I know that we both have the skills necessary to protect ourselves and keep the young and weak safe.”

              Both boys could hear whimpering coming from the community hall, prompting Kalifa to hurry back inside and chasten those who were making noise. “Please, everyone be silent. Any noise you make could draw the other tribe directly to us,” he said. He could see the fear in their eyes. He gave them all a smile and returned outside to find his friend speaking with two boys from the other tribe, roughly their age. He slowly raised his spear, keeping a close eye on any questionable movement.

              “Kalifa, wait, hold up,” his friend said. “We completely misunderstood the situation. They have come here to warn us about an invasion from the far north. We need to find your father and tell him what we have learned. They are here on good terms.”

              “Tell me more details,” Kalifa said. “I need to know exactly what you are talking about.”

              “Yes, of course,” said one of the boys from the other tribe. “We woke this morning to find that a large group of white devils had entered our village. The chief sent messengers around the village, warning everyone to stay in their huts, for we had no idea what they were doing or why they were among us.”

              The second boy continued the story. “The chief and ten of our strongest men approached the white devils with their spears. But the strange, pale men had odd spears of their own that threw small projectiles at a rapid speed. I actually saw one of them point his spear toward a monkey in a distant tree and with a sound like thunder, he killed the small beast.”

              The first boy picked up the story and continued speaking. “The chief spoke in our native tongue to one of the warriors, who then hurried away into the village to gather a group of men to come and warn you of these intruders. From everything that we have seen, they are dangerous and seem to be bringing animosity toward all of us who live in the jungle. We cannot understand their words and they seem very angry toward us.”

              “Come,” Kalifa said. “We need to find father and our chief. If the four of us approach them together and explain what is happening, we may be able to avoid violence between our people. We must not return violence for your goodwill. But wait one moment, I need to communicate this to the women and children, for they are very frightened of what appears to be happening.”

              When Kalifa retuned from the community hall, the four boys entered the jungle together, stopped moving, listened intently, and located the men from their two tribes. Kalifa motioned for his father to approach and told him the details of what he had just learned. His father pulled the other men together, repeated the message to them all, to hear the sounds of joy and relief.

              The men all scattered in many directions throughout the jungle and eventually gathered as one large group with the men from the other tribe. The same message was repeated to everyone there. A pact was made between them to protect their own, to protect one another and to send the same message to the tribes further south.

              Kalifa and his friends spoke kindly to the older boys from the other tribe, exchanged names, and made plans to reconnect once the white devils were gone. Both excited and disappointed, they watched everyone scatter in different directions. Some men from his tribe began the short journey further south to warn the other tribes and make plans for building a unified defense against this certain danger.

              Kalifa returned to the community hall, confirmed the truth of the situation to the women and assured everyone that it was safe to return to their homes. Within a few hours, over one hundred men from his tribe, and from the tribes to the south arrived in their village, heavily armed and ready to fight. With their arrival, Kalifa’s father sent out the command to regather the women and children in the community hall once again, for a battle of this size could easily scatter throughout the entire village.

              “We must have the women and children in one location,” he said. “Kalifa, gather the older boys and the younger men to surround the community hall. The small and weak need our protection. This is a great responsibility for you. Do not allow anyone to breech the hall. You and the other boys have the skills to succeed in this. I believe in you.”

              Kalifa hurried off as directed by his father, gathered the other boys, and they all scattered throughout the village, moving the women and children to the community hall. They surrounded the building with eyes in every direction. They were fully armed and prepared to keep everyone safe.

              Having been forewarned of the strange and noisy weapons possessed by the white devils, the men of the jungle secured positions of safety, knowing that these weapons could not penetrate through trees. Armed with spears and bow and arrows, they dipped the tips in poison and began a constant volley of direct attack when the white devils arrived. Darkness began to fall and the last of the white devils began to flee, leaving the village safe and secure.

              Plans were made for a multi-tribe celebration of victory over their enemies. The next day with the arrival of sunlight, hundreds of men, women, and children arrived in Kalifa’s village, bearing food and drink to celebrate the glorious victory of good men over evil. Kalifa rejoiced at the widespread celebration of so many different tribes and peoples. All of them spoke the same tongue, and he wondered why they had failed to connect before this time.

              One hour after the celebration began, Kalifa and his friends reconnected with the boys from the other tribes and established long lasting friendships. “I think we have learned that we are all the same, except the white devils who seemed intent on destroying us. It is as one people that we need to live. With knowledge and trust comes love and protection. This needs to be our goal.”

             

Perfectly Alone

            Lawrence could feel the weight of the week settling upon him yet there was only one more day to reach the weekend. He could see the top half of the clock from his workstation and the thought of watching the minute hand reach the twelve, while the hour hand teased an approach to the five, he leaned back in his seat, tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, letting out a long and exaggerated breath.

            “Five more minutes, I can skim through my email, return my inbox to zero, and finally go home,” he thought. The next few moments passed far more quickly than he expected, and he watched his co-workers rise from their seats, prompting him to join them in a mass exodus to the hallway. He hurried toward the row of elevator doors and stood alone, waiting for the first one to open. As it breached the silence with a small squeak, he stepped inside to find himself alone.

            “Huh, that’s weird, did everyone else take the other four elevators?” he wondered. “I guess this will be a slow, silent descent from the eighth floor to the parking garage.” He watched the numbers slowly count down until the glowing red symbol read “G”. With another slight squeak, he passed through the doors and entered the parking garage to find himself alone, looking at a disturbingly empty space, seeing only his car parked at the far end of the lot.

            ‘Umm, this doesn’t make any sense, was my elevator that slow that everyone else descended and departed ahead of me?” he wondered. He fed his fingerprint into his phone to see that he had no signal whatsoever. “Must be the concrete and the depth of my location.” He started his car, drove up one floor and entered the normally busy city. The sidewalk was empty, the street was empty, and he rejoiced at his unusual luck of experiencing so little traffic.

            “Something isn’t right,” he said. “I have never seen this street empty before.” He pulled to the curb, turned off his engine, locked the doors and began to wander the sidewalks, looking for any sign of any activity but finding no one. The next thirty minutes passed, and he saw no people, no birds, no rodents, no police cars, and no homeless people. He again checked his phone to still see no signal, no social media feeds, no missed calls, and no texts from friends or family.

            He stopped walking, knelt upon the sidewalk, and focused all of his attention on the strange absence of sound. No sirens, no steady drone of traffic, no air traffic overhead, and no random conversations. He continued to focus on hearing something, anything and could hear nothing but his own heartbeat in his ears. He returned to his feet and visited seventeen different stores on both sides of the street. He checked his pulse and gladly found that he still had one, wondering if he had passed into some different phase of reality.

            Feeling a bit peckish, he entered an empty coffee shop, made himself a chocolate mocha, left a five-dollar bill on the counter, knowing that simply taking something without paying was wrong and spent the next thirty minutes walking from store to store to find zero activity. “How is this possible that I am completely alone in a city that should be teeming with millions of people?”

            Businesses were open for business, cars were parked along the curb, and many were left abandoned on the streets, in intersections, and on bridges. “Check the subway,” he thought. “How can everyone be gone?” He snagged a hot dog from an abandoned hot dog cart, walked, drank, ate, and explored every possible location that should have been populated by numberless human beings. “There are literally no people anywhere, all the homeless are gone, all the prostitutes are gone, all the gang members are gone, and I don’t even see any rats or birds… so, so weird, and without explanation.”

            He descended to the subway, to find the exact same situation below the street as on the street. “No people, no activity, no animal life, all life has disappeared. I guess I’ll go home then.” He ascended from the dark and gloomy underworld, returned to his car and carefully weaved through the streets, parking in the garage for his apartment building and decided to take the stairs to the fourth floor that held his home.

            “Well, I would place an order for food delivery but obviously that won’t work,” he said. “I guess I’ll have to walk to the grocery store, pick up what I need, cook myself some dinner and hopefully watch a movie.” Placing his briefcase and car keys on his kitchen counter, he returned to the street, found an abandoned bicycle, rode three blocks to the grocery store and found the perfect filet mignon, a bag of frozen broccoli, a loaf of sourdough bread, and a bottle of Merlot.

            “Perfect, it doesn’t get any better than this…. Well, it would be better if I had someone with whom to enjoy this meal,” he said. “I can say that I have never bought groceries and never had to wait in line. A quick bike ride home, cook up this glorious piece of meat, enjoy my own company, and watch a movie. I can only assume that the streaming services are still functional, as all of this sort of work is done by computers. Wow, what a weird day.”

            Lawrence finished preparing his dinner, stepped out onto his balcony and marveled at the bright lights and the absolute silence. “Here I sit all alone, but that is really nothing different. Finish my day at work, come home, make dinner, eat alone, watch a movie alone, but doing all of this alone is different than knowing that right now, I am actually, literally all alone. Not a single soul in the city, as far as I can tell.”

            He struggled to stay awake until the end of the movie, ate some chocolate, took a shower and went to bed. Dragged from his sleep from his screeching alarm, he staggered to the balcony to once again find the unnatural absolute silence. “I wonder what work will be like today. Will I literally be alone in the office. I really have no choice but to go in, be productive, put in my eight hours, and come home for another silent evening.”

            He made himself a pot of coffee, fried three eggs and sausage, dressed for the day, and drove to work, to once again find a completely empty parking garage. He parked in his normal space, took the squeaky elevator to the eighth floor and entered an office full of people, who greeted him warmly. Everything seemed like a normal day, so he refrained from asking anyone how their previous evening was. His morning passed like it always did, he walked down to the hot dog stand on the street out front, purchased two dogs, a bottle of sweet tea, ate in the sunshine and returned to his desk.

            Feeling overly full, he returned to his unfinished project, began feeling drowsy, felt a sudden prick on the front of his forearm and realized that he was no longer at his desk in the office. Everything around him was white, he found himself surrounded by older men and women in hospital gowns, wandering around and talking to themselves. A very large middle-aged woman approached him and asked how his work was going.

            “Do you still work in the office, filling out paperwork for stocks and bonds purchases?" she asked.

            "Yes, I do,” he answered. “I’m sorry, can you tell me where I am right now? I really should be at my desk. I’d hate to lose my job because the day is almost over.”

            “Lawrence,” she said, “we’ve talked about this before. You are at St. Stephen’s hospital and have been for the past twelve years. You don’t need to worry about your job. I’ll call your boss and tell him that you’ve completed all of your work and will be back in on Monday to finish up whatever work needs to be done.”

            “Thank you, so much for taking care of that for me,” he said. “I’m really thirsty, can I get a glass of Merlot?”

            “Yes, of course,” she said. “Take a seat at that table there, and I’ll bring it out to you. Jeffrey has been asking about you and is concerned that you’re not doing very well. Should I send him over to talk to you. You and he have been friends for about eight years now. I know he would love to continue your conversation about your work, your apartment, and the steak you ate last night.”

            “Yes, please do,” Lawrence answered. “I’ve been quite lonely lately.” Lawrence sat down, watched the handful of wandering elderly people in their hospital gowns and waited for Jeffrey to arrive. “Honestly, I have no idea who Jeffrey is or how he knows anything about me. I really need some answers, but that nurse seemed to think that everything was okay, and I am fine doing whatever it is that I am doing right here, right now.”

Within a few minutes, a man approached him, sat down and looked him directly in the eyes. It was at that moment that Lawrence realized that this Jeffrey, if this is who he was, looked identical to himself. Their conversation began and continued as if they had been friends for a very long time. He could feel himself relaxing inside and truly connecting with another human being, which brought about peace that he had not felt for as long as he could remember.