The writer found himself on a single person boat. He was alone in a quiet, calm and shining blue ocean. The sun was up with warm not hot on his skin. There was a rainbow as well. A beautiful, strongly colored one.
"A rainbow with a sun shining."
He told himself finding it weird.
"What am I doing here?"
He asked himself.
Then a bird with a leaf from a tree on its beak came to rest on the front of his boat. He left his swadles on their holder and wanted to grab the bird, but it flew. Then he saw another one on top of them and both flew away together.
"If I am dreaming again I want to wake up."
He said to himself thinking of his pen.
As he moved his body backward, twisting to the back, he saw another boat with two humans.
"Hey!"
He shouted.
The writer swaddled his boat close to them as both passengers of the other boat, more or less the same size as his boat, seemed to be sleeping as their bodies were laid across the boat.
Upon reaching the other boat, he found a man and a woman. He tried to wake them up but they would not wake up. So he scooped some sea water on both hands and sprinkled them on their faces.
Suddenly he found himself in his boat far away from them. He was back to the same distance as he was before, about two hundred meters away.
The man and the woman opened their eyes looking around in amazement then hugged each other crying for a long time.
The writer yelled at them, but it seemed he was too far away to be heard. He tried to come closer, but the same distance between them kept itself fixed.
"What is going on?"
He questioned himself.
Not long after, two dolphins on each side of his boat came tumbling themselves as if wanting to amuse him. They did. He laughed. He flashed back to the other boat and they were gone.
"What happened?"
Abruptly he found himself awakened from his dreams after his glass cup for coffee fell to the floor and broke. His pen was laid on the end point corner of his desk. It did not fall, just the cup.
As he peeped back to the paper he was writing before falling asleep, he found he stopped till "He looked back to the other boat and they were gone."
He cupped his face with both hands with regrets for getting himself awake and not continuing his dream. He glowered his eyes to the pen and grabbed it talking to it infront of his face.
"When I asked you to wake me up, you didn't. Now you left with intrigues as to what had happened in my story."
He dropped the pen on top of the paper, feeling himself crazy talking to a pen.
He stood up from his writing table chair and went to lie down on his bed as he saw it was still dark by looking outside his window. Besides, he felt tired and still sleepy. So he went to bed. Soon after he was back to his dream.
"Hello! Where are you guys?"
The writer screamed hoping he could be heard, but nothing.
"Now which direction shall I go?"
He only talked to himself as he was alone.
After a while, he saw the birds again. They were flying in one direction. He could not tell if it was north, south, east or west. But he followed them.
About an hour into his journey, he saw an island ahead of him.
"Land! At last!"
He said convincing himself it wasn't just an oasis. He arrived and he was right. It was real.
The island in the middle of the vast ocean was like a paradise. The closest water was blue, the trees distance away were beautiful green, the white colored sand!
There was no one around. So he did not bother to call. He just helped himself out of the boat and went to explore the island.
Before he went into the trees, he noticed something on his right hand far away. He wiped his eyes to see better. A boat!
"It must be the couple's boat!"
He convinced himself of what he saw and believed. So he ran to it. He came to it, touched it and looked around to check if its passengers were close by. No one.
Then from the far, he saw a boy running along the seashore playing with some little animals.
The writer went closer to the boy and the little animals. Around the boy were chickens, goats, piglets, bunnies and more, but all in pairs. No more than two of each kind.
"That is weird."
He commented to himself.
Another thing he noticed, he seemed to be invisible. The boy did not even turn around as he came to stand by his side.
"Hello!"
He greeted but the boy went on just laughing and playing. He believed he was around five years old.
"Jesus!"
Someone from behind them called. It was a woman's voice, which made the boy and the writer turned around towards the sides of the trees.
At the same time, the writer's bedside table's alarm clock sounded four o'clock in the morning. It shook up the writer from his dreams again.
"Oh no!"
He said, stopping the alarm.
"Why did I set you at four?"
Remembering it was actually the time he planned to start writing again, he wanted to get up. But sleepy head won him over.
Once again he tried to get back to sleep. Tossing and turning himself on his bed made him give up from sleeping again and finally get himself out of bed.
He went to get some coffee and back to his chair to continue writing.There he saw the story was completed. He laughed heartily, picked up his pen and kissed it. All he did afterward was enjoy his coffee and read the story.
The boy started to walk towards the woman standing by the entrance of the lined up tall trees and all the animals following him.
The writer also followed them. He found himself at the back of them and no matter how he tried to catch the boy's steps and walk beside him, he couldn't. Until he gave up and just walked calmly behind them.
He saw the mother.
"She is beautiful!"
The writer adored the amazing beauty of the woman. He noticed that the boy's beauty in his brilliance he could not describe is as beautiful as the shining beauty of his mother. Something his words have found hard enough to live up to its perfect descriptions.
"Amazing!"
It was the word he finally pronounced.
He saw the woman and the boy walking towards a place where a man was standing outside with a donkey. He tried to look better at it to describe it.
"A stable?"
It was the same before his eyes.
Suddenly a shout from his back made him twist around. It was from the inside of the trees.
"He has risen! He has risen!"
A man's voice was shouting those words. He could not see him. He found himself suddenly alone in the middle of a forest, only trees surrounding him. He searched back the mother, the son and the man with their animals and they were all gone.
"What is happening?"
He asked himself and felt terrified. He closed his eyes, prayed to get calmness and shake out terror and fear. Then breath deeply before opening his eyes back again.
This time he found himself standing before a vast land full of dead bodies. He was standing along the lined trees of the forest where in front of them lay the bodies of people, all wet, on top of each other together with dead animals, broken and fallen trees, rocks and mud.
More terror than before overwhelmed the writer, almost making him fall as his knees weakened. Someone held him firm and made all the fears, shock and horror he felt disappear. Once again he got calm and back on his feet.
Beside him on his right, stood a man in white robe.
"Why white robe?"
He asked himself quietly, trying to see if the man had a halo on top of his head, thinking he might be an angel. But there was nothing.
"Do not be afraid. Just observe and be a witness. The Saviour of the world has risen."
The man said as he stretched his right hand as if referring to the dead as the world.
"This land of the dead is the world?"
He asked as he moved to look around him, but the man was gone by the time he turned back to him.
From his back, he heard someone responding to his question, feeling horror from it.
"Yes!"
The writer whirled to his back, but there was no one. He twisted his look to the front and felt deeply sorry about all the dead bodies.
Slowly, men and women in white robes were coming out from everywhere. Some from the sky, others from the forest, still others from other nature like the mountains and some from among the dead.
They landed themselves between the people and talked to them. Actually preaching as the common words he heard from them were scriptures he knew about.
One by one, not all, from the dead people some started to rise up. They rose up clean and shining.
From beside the writer, without him realizing it, the boy he saw before was standing. He started to walk ahead. The writer saw him as he stepped forward and how he was changing from a little boy to a grown up child and finally a man.
As the boy became a man, he reached the front of all the dead people on the other end part from where the writer was standing, he stopped. Eleven men came towards him and later on the eleven men called another one to join them.
A voice from the sky was heard everywhere as the man dressed in a fishing net beside the man spoke to him.
"While he was still speaking, a bright cloud enveloped them, and a voice from the cloud said, 'This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!'"
The pen's story stopped there. The writer got the point. It was a verse from Matthew 17:5.
"Follow. Follow the Son of God."
(c) bbayonito20/bethbciar
