The man's
slumbering mind opened it's window to spacious green
fields and blue sky. An older boy with reddish
blond hair trotted over to meet him. His eyes were
bright and cheerful, and his body moved with grace and
confidence. There was an aura of peace about the
lad that drew the man into a spiritual union with him.
The normal stages of human emotion that two people pass
through to reach total intimacy did not apply. The
boy's simple and engaging smile bridged all of that.
Although they had only met once or twice in this world,
the conversation startled without formal introductions
being offered. The man knew the boy, and knew
there was significance to his visit.
The boy looked around. "I have many friends
up here. We play soccer and hangout
together." The boy's smile faded. "My dad
needs to know how happy I am. He needs to know
there is no reason for him to worry. I am
fine."
"Why me?" the man asked. "I
am no one special to your family. I know your
father only through business. I don't know him
well enough to tell about your new life."
"I chose you because I think he will listen
to you. I think you can get through to hm.
Tell him I am happy, and he is not to be sad
anymore."
The conversation went on untl the man finally
awoke from his sleep. His visit, with the boy
called Ryan, was real. His heart flooded with
emotions and his eyes with tears. Although there
was no denying what had just happened, he was certain he
would never be able to talk to the boy's father about
their visit. To do so would only cause great pain
for the father, and if nothing else, the man would be
looked upon as a troublesome loon.
The man cleared his head and went back to sleep.
Within minutes, Ryan returned. Again, he implored
the man to talk to his father. "I am happy. My
father needs to know this. You must promise me you
will tell him." The man agreed. With
that, Ryan gave him a smile and returned to his soccer
game.
After much hesitation, the day finally came when
the man realized he would never be able to dampen the
feeling that compelled him to speak to the boy's father.
A solid promise had been made, and it would be kept.
He struggled to find a way to convey Ryan's message to
the father. Men of his generation did not go
around talking about things like feelings and dreams.
He was a tool man by trade. He worked with metal.
It was solid and true. He knew you need not doubt
that which you can hold between your hands, not like the
intangibles of this world. Matters such as
the heart, mind and soul, he left to the ones who are,
by nature, more sensibile - priests, philosophers,
teachers, psychologists.
With phone in hand, and safely separated by fiber
optics, copper wires, routers and switches, he started.
"I don't want you to think I'm odd or crazy, but I
went to bed the other night and...," he relayed the
story as it has occurred. the entire time he
fought to control the shakiness in his voice and the
tears in his eyes. He spoke of things he had no reason
to know, like Ryan's love of soccer and the father's
heart breaking struggle to deal with his son's absense
Several times he expressed his uncertainty about
relaying these facts to the father. He knew he
might sound crazy, but was inexplicably drawn to speak
openly of his experience.
Ryans's father listened. He expressed no
doubt in the man's words. It didn't surprise him that
Ryan was playing soccer or that he was happy. It
only bothered him that his own sadness was causing so
much pain for his son. Finally, the father said,
"The next time you see Ryan, tell him we miss
him."
The man said he would.
Then, just as they were saying good bye, the
father said, "Oh, by the way, the night you visited
with Ryan... it was ten months to the day that he had
left us."
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