Several books were asleep on my desk. I awoke them abrubtly, only to discover that as they opened their pages, light flew about my head. Standing strictly still, the words from each of the books suddenly assembled themselves together and marched onto my arm and up my shoulders. After a brief moment, they dissolved. Each letter melted till at another glance, I could no longer see black print. But they were still there.In fact, the words tickled and even pricked for the next few days. With each poke and pinch, however, I felt new breath. Bathing my mind with its soothing hands, this breath welcomed the light that was still dancing above my head. As the light soaked into my body like warm rays of an awaking springtime sun, I truly awoke. For, I had been asleep, just like the books.
I am standing alone on a stepping stone made of clay. It is resting just above water in the middle of a calm, grand lake. There are six more clay stepping stones tracing the path from the gray lakeshore to where I now stand. I turn slowly on my stone, like a music box ballerina, spinning to an endless tune. The music stops. Colors fade into black and white. I stood on that shoreline and looked across the lake. The lakeshore in the distance invited me to join its sun-touched beach, shaded by trees rich with varieties of sweet exotic fruits. It faintly promised me new paths worth discovering, that would lead my feet to softer sands and clearer waters. I listened.I searched for materials and built large clay stones that would help me reach the other side. My hands ached endlessly while the sweat dripped into my attentive eyes. Both the sun and moon observed my work. I constructed seven stones, which carried me to the middle of the glassy lake. The music begins again.I spin to the disappointed lakeshore waiting for my arrival. The music loses its hopeful charm, distorting into an awful melody of complaints and confusion. The gleam the distant lakeshore once boasted is now dull and overshadowed by dark rain clouds. It is not satisfied with my clay stones. I must turn back.Water begins to run over the top of my stones. They cannot support my weight. Tears are quietly shed as I sink with my clay stones and gaze at the lakeshore that is unaware of my struggle. Large ripples appear on the lake's cool surface as I cry, but they won't help me build a bridge. I'll have to swim back to the gray shore.
I lie asleep on the cool grass. A breeze begins to slither over my dormant body. It plays in my hair with its flowing fingers and dances along my eyelashes. Startled by its determination to wake me, I slowly rise, gazing at the clean blue horizon. I am in an empty space.The quiet breeze gathers speed and transforms into a rushing wind. Its energy swirls around me, filling the air with perfect harmonies and angelic whispers. The fullness of sound and space lift my earthy frame off the ground. Floating peacefully hand-in-hand with the wind, my arm raises effortlessly to illustrate its beautiful melodies.Colors pour from my fingers, flowing freely as the wind dictates the notes. Relying upon its marvelous power, I close my eyes in trust. Without hesitation, my hands create grand trees, dripping with rainbow-colored leaves, snow-white clouds sparkling in the brilliant sun, and millions of stars waving enthusiastically to the earth beneath them.Eagerly listening, a royal mountain appears beneath my fingers. The winds carefully release me to rest upon this mountain. I open my eyes and observe the colorful world clapping joyfully in newness of life. My mountain shadows my world, but as I climb, the shadows disappear. There remain many rugged miles to hike, but with the help of the wind, I can reach the top.
