Options

I dreamed of a swarthy man with drooping dark eyes.

Coal black hair was parted down the middle and cinched into a pony-tail. A trim black beard underlined his lean face. He was well dressed in a clean, modern style, with collared, starched Oxford shirt open at the neck and a simple, unbuttoned vest. He also wore a Bluetooth and was using it to converse with his staff.

He and I met in a cool, softly lit room. Without further prelude, I found him asking me what I wanted. Without being aware that I’d told him, he told his staff what I wanted, and I corrected him. As this was going on, he held out a pale green dinner plate. The plate was plain. On it was a small white piece of paper folded in half.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Your choices,” he replied, then spoke to his people via the Bluetooth.

I picked up the paper and unfolded it. It was blank. I asked, “Is this a joke?”

“No. Words would limit you. Everything is your option.”

A short, white woman wearing a bright red dress entered. She glanced at me and then focused on the black-haired man. “She seeks help, too,” he said.

He began speaking to her. Turning away, I saw several white pub tables set up around the room. Gold coins and red rose petals were strewn and mounded on the tables.

“Help yourself,” the man said.

A white canvas bag was in my hand. I slide some gold and petals into the bag. He urged me to take more. I declined, adding, “I want to leave some for others.” Yet, I saw that whatever I had taken was already being replenished. Like mounds were appearing on other tables. People were entering and filling their backs.

The black-haired man shook his head. “There’s enough for others. There are no limits. It’s infinite.”

Taking my bag, I drifted out of the room and told myself, “I need to remember this.”

Someone unseen replied, “You will.”