A Window Opened. Alan Martin

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      Waking Up on the Other Side

      While following in the footsteps along a strange paved thoroughfare, I glanced down to see a cobblestone walkway that seemed to lead me to a circular fountain. With bushes and flowers arrayed in an exquisite and beautiful landscape, surrounding the borders was decorated with eloquent reddish-and-white-colored stone accenting an elaborate touch. The hummingbirds and bees were sharing the delicacy of what Mother Nature set before them, traveling from one flower to the next.

      The colors of the scenery pictured must be what heaven looks like. I was absolutely flabbergasted in awe. I had to stand there for a few moments just to soak in the peaceful excitement I was enjoying.

      On the side, there sat an old brown-colored slatted wooden bench with black iron circular arm rails on the ends. As I sat on the bench, I began to listen to the water from the fountain of youth, trickling alongside the bowls as it was dripping from one level to the next. When it reached the basin, it would swirl and swirl into circular motions with a quaint gurgle sound. The soft voice it was making felt as if you were being hypnotized. This soothing relaxation caused me to nod off and fall asleep.

      I found myself sleeping on the bench in tranquility, resting with a cool breeze, and “dreaming of different exotic colors sparkling a shiny ray of sunshine on my face.” A figment of my imagination must have gotten away; the glowing glory was spectacular of what I seen in my dream. Upon awakening, I looked at the “Graceland.” I thought we were in! Somehow things have changed, and this was not what I saw the day before.

      While collecting my thoughts, I noticed this wasn’t a cobblestone floor that encircled the fountain. It was a worn-out dirt path. And as I stared at the fountain, the nozzle head had enough algae and moss built on it to be almost closed off where it usually spews the water from.

      The delicious bushes and flowers were so rotten away they reminded me of a hobo’s pot of greens with turnips and secondhand radishes. The beautiful hewn stones that I saw earlier were discolored and cracked up in the overgrown slimy moss that covered them.

      “Shuttering with surprise had me wondering with curiosity” as we looked around for any sign and asking ourselves, “What’s this all about?” While we were trying to gather our senses, a thought came to mind, “Maybe I’m dreaming again?”

      Looking within the scenery that surrounded me, I thought to myself, “We weren’t drinking, and surely we aren’t delusional. So what has happened? Because this is not the same.”

      I’ve decided this inner circle has changed. Let me go out to see if something seems different along the outer spaces. In my deranged superstitious mind, I started to gallivant along the outer edges of this unusual park, pondering and asking myself, “Is this where we came in last night?”

      I was thinking (outside the box), “Could abnormalities of anxiety and a phobia have bases to put me in a neurosis disorder, for I don’t seem to remember? Now I’m talking as if I was some sort of a psychologist. Ah, go figure!”

      So what’s the next step in trying to analyze this predicament we find ourselves in? “We’re running out of ideas,” and I’m getting a little tired of trying to entertain myself. Besides I don’t know this park very well, and there was nonetheless anything within or outside these grounds I find myself in. “This whole thing is cloudy!”

      “This bizarre obstructive sensorial in a physical sense” has my brain in an internal affect become unreliable. “Could this expose a disparity that infiltrates a quarrelsome dispute amongst myself?” Here I go again talking as if Mr. Psychiatrist showed up (uninvited).

      After taking one more trip around the park to see if we could identify anything, I knew it was a waste of time. Has the allusiveness of my thoughts while sitting back on the bench help me any? “Well, we’re back on the same bench.” We woke up on this morning. Hopefully it will allow me to relax for I’m getting tired. I was aware that it was starting to get dark again, and I wasn’t for sure of what to do next.

      As I was watching this clogged up fountain trying to push water out of its nozzle, I started nodding off. So here I was lying down on this park bench, and after several hours of rest and sleep, I woke up, and I noticed the fountain trickling water alongside the spring running into the basin.

      “The beautiful bushes and flowers were shining in such an exquisite array,” and the walkway leading down to this central location was in cobblestone looking authentic as if you were over in a foreign land in the middle of a square. There I sat bent over with my head lying in my hands thinking, “Was this real or was I dreaming? All I know is that I’m happy to be back!”

      Just a Little Spoonful

      A strange sensation started to brew one day when I saw a “spoonful of what looked like diamonds, or could it be gold staring at me in the face?” Or was this a spoonful of coffee, tea, or was it a special love that came my way but didn’t realize? Could it be something precious that would satisfy my very soul? Upon looking at this site, it had me wondering how the vision came to be.