From the Egg

I feel like I am at the bottom of a waterfall with the water pounding down on me with crushing force. All I can hear is erupting of thunder loud enough to split the earth. There is no light. I can't breath. However it is warm and almost comfortable like being in the womb. A bolt of light shatters my confusion and leaves me powerless to understand.

When I regain consciousness I am clinging to the edge of the world. At first all I can see is the edge like a jagged line in the middle of emptiness, not the dark space sort of emptiness, but a place devoid of any description or possibility of perception. The quiet is so profound it is difficult to conceive of the rumbling horror of the chaos I came from. Slowly the world rolls into view; I am actually clinging to the shell of an egg that has been shattered. A field of green grass and flowers extends from my precarious grip up into jagged peaks of white shell.

I climb into the egg and begin to walk around. I find out quickly that my movement is limited. I can make it as far as a stream running through the field; beyond that I can't even fathom; it's not like the emptiness from before but it is indiscernible none the less; I only have the inkling that there is something precious and mysterious on the other side. I have no desire to explore in the other direction. I am warmed by the peace that surrounds me yet I long for answers. Why am I here? Where is here? What happened to the world I knew.

I begin to look beyond my egg to search for answers. Almost immediately my eyes are drawn to a man contained in a puddle of reality surrounded by the nothingness. I say puddle because that is what it looks like, but more accurately it is a window to another place, or rather a window into the meaning of the world I have departed. This man is on a very tall unicycle riding around a pole that doesn't have a top. He rides around and around in circles never leaving the pole all the while he is pointing away from the poll seeming to say, "Go that way." The obvious problem is that the direction always changes because he is moving around the poll always pointing away from it. As the puddle expands I can see that he is in  the middle of a city and that he is not actually in control. His unicycle is being powered by a motor attached to the poll. I blink and when my eyes return to the puddle I see the man dangling from the top of the unicycle --dead-- he turning around and around the poll hanging limp like a doll.

I pause to think about the scene that has been place before my eyes. I am concerned but not afraid. Slowly an answer forms in my mind. I know why I have come to this place and what I am supposed to take from it. As this realization settles upon me the egg and the valley begin to fade and disintegrate like chalk drawings subject to time and the elements. I see myself sitting on the edge of the eggshell looking longingly back at my self wishing that I could reveal the secret... the light before I strap on my helmet and unicycle away.