Different views on different shoes

Another day went by, another grass will grow.

What a day! It was really exhausting to work under the sun, cutting and picking the grasses manually. It was no fun at all! Physically, it took a lot of strength to clean a whole big lot. So

I’ve wondered as I lie on the freshly-cut grass, that what would happen if I would try to take on a different path, perhaps that of a fisherman…

Tiredness must have gotten into me that my feet suddenly moved by itself. I was horrified but I can control neither my feet nor my legs. I tried to scream but my voice seemed to falter until I was transported to that place called the Vargas Museum.

I was able to move my feet and legs again as the doors suddenly closed. I was trapped – by some unknown entity.

I ran and screamed around the whole place but no one seemed to be there except me. I kept on running until I was halted by some strong bulky figure. He went closer to me as I stammered. Until my back leaned on the corner, I was crawling in search for a refuge.

The dim lights suddenly brightened as that figure went closer, then I figured it out – he was the guard.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t disturbed by my presence; the fact that I was there without any idea how I have been there.

“Get up and follow me.” He said warmly as he reached his hand for me. I took it and followed him up on the way to the second floor.

Then he spoke again while we were walking, “Are you tired of your work?” he asked curiously.

“Not much, though I wanted to try on another job, perhaps something different from my line of grass cutting. Perhaps, I’d like to try to be a fisherman… Yes, that sounds exciting!” I hastily replied.

“Do you know how fishermen work?” he calmly asked as we entered the glass door of the room in the second floor.

“Yes, they make their rods and nets, put a bait on it, and then they have a catch!” I said proudly as I was welcomed by another atmosphere.

There were tons of paintings, more than a hundred I guess. There were also other artworks but paintings were the massive population of that area.

“Stop looking around and focus on that work of art.” he sternly commanded as we turned on a different side of the room and pointed out on a painting hanging between two large paintings.

I obeyed him as I heard his diction. He was intense. I stared at the painting and I’ve figured out that it was a painting of a fisherman working at night on a full moon.

What I cannot fathom was that why was the fisherman still working on this kind of hour? I cannot see anything on the painting aside from the light of the full moon from the sky to its reflection on the lake, the fisherman on the boat with his lamp, the light on the right side of the shore, and the shadows of the trees that the light of the moon reflect.

“You want to know why?” suddenly asked the figure.

“Um, yes I’d like to know more about him.” I replied immediately, not knowing why he had known my thoughts.

“Then be him.” silently replied the figure who was now closer to me, just behind my shoulder lurking.

As he said those words, my whole existence traversed to some unknown parallel path.

The suddenly, it was night. And there was a lake in front of me, and then I was on a boat. It was the boat of the fisherman! I looked at the water and oh boy, I was the fisherman!

I was happy with that thought, that finally I can live my dream – to try out something new, like being a fisherman.

I rowed the boat back and forth happily like a kid playing a paper boat. Then when I arrived in the center of the lake, I have thought of the real work of the fisherman – to fish! But when I tried to do it, it was a failure. Second, I tried but failed. The third was the same with the second. All the times that I had tried, it was a mistake. Nothing had been fruitful.

And after some more attempts, I have thought, being a fisherman is not for me.

The waves move calmly as I decided to get back to the shore, yes just like before I entered this realm. Holding the lamp tightly, I was fondly feeling its warmth in my body as I was paddling across the lake towards the white light on the right side of the shore that had been my vehicle to this wonderland – no, perhaps demise.

Yes, I’ve realized that being somebody whom I wasn’t supposed to be would only bring me death, or perhaps the end of my living.

The white light was then suddenly above me, taking me back to the parallel path then back to the museum.

“You enjoyed being a fisherman?” asked the figure while he was grinning at me.

“Nope. I guess being a grass cutter is much better.” I replied with my heart filled with contentment.

“Just go back now and finish you work!” he shouted as the lights dimmed off, with the memory of the painting of the fisherman at night diminished and faded from my view.

BOOOOGGGHHSSSS!

Ugh. There was no moon, but the sun was setting down now. I was awoken by that shout that lingered in my ears until now.

That dream made me realize that I was meant to be a grass cutter and nothing else. I would treasure that vague but eloquent image of that painting forever in my memory.

But for tomorrow, I would clean up this whole lot again as another grass will grow.