The light boils
down to a point where I find a penny. I take it and walk along to see
that I find myself in a room. It has dust floating about and I have
no idea why I'm there. I try remember, but it is for naught. So, I
shrug and go on about my business.

I look around at
this technicolor landscape, enjoying my humming and the bees and
birds flit about my surroundings. With a spring in my step, I walk
towards an inviting looking tree and I walk towards it.

I lay down and
read a book with no sense. It was about a person reading a book about
a person reading a book. “This Is...” is the title of this book,
or so I presume. I throw book into a trash can and get out of my bed.
I look out a window and see a squirrel running away from the rain.

I smile and get
ready and walk outside in my coat and hat, thinking it is a beautiful
day. I walk through the falling water and look around me. A fog has
risen and is blocking out most of what I see. I feel a bit content.

The sound of the
rain continues to drone on, as if Nature decided to listen to some
white noise. I tune out and think of something, but I know that I was
thinking. I feel the cold dampness press onto my head and shoulders.
I roll my neck.

Satisfied with my
walk, I turn around and step into my house. It is very dry, but I
feel rather wet. I complain to the mirror. It doesn't reply to my
complaint. I scoff.

So, I head to my
room and drop into my bed. The sheets are now wet and smell like a
wet dog. I frown at this and scolded my reflection for not keeping my
things dry. As always, it never replies.

After a brief nap,
I wake up and look out the window. I see the sun setting. I tilt my
head a little. What? I shake my head and look again. Wait, it's
rising. I sigh and think why I keep walking and getting wet. I frown.
Oh well. I guess I'm just forgetful or something. I smile and look
around.

There is no one.

I hate the fact
that it seems so right. So I fall asleep once more and head for a
walk, knowing it would rain.