James had never seen the place he was in. Looking from the the edge of a door sill, he glanced over a room that looked exceptionally old. The walls, floors, and assortments of cabinets were all colored in gray. The paint was also cracked he saw as he looked closer. Walking through a door he curiously inspected this place. But the people soon took his attention off his unusual surroundings.
Sitting at first but then standing to met him was a group of people who sat in the far edge of the kitchen. He felt somehow he recognized them, but their clothes and haircuts gave the appearance that they were from another era. Perhaps the 50’s as he looked at he man’s brown woolen suit and matching dark colored tie. The man, whose gray hair and mustache seemed to add age, greeted him with a smile and handshake. He was tall and heavyset. His wife, he took it to be his wife, stood next to him before the small circular dinner table. She was perhaps a few years younger, her hair was the darkest black. Their child was a fresh faced boy who looked quite young, and he had the nicest most inviting smile of them all.
James sat with them at their table. They seemed to speak but he could not hear them. He wondered where he was, and who were they. After some time, he stood up as the family continued their inaudible conversation. Walking back towards the door he had entered through, he saw a box on the counter. Taking it he opened it up. Inside was a bottle of Scotch, letters, and small leather bound books he took for address books. But it was the bottle with its yellow markings that drew his attention. Holding the bottle he felt a sense of melancholy descend upon himself. His heart sank, he looked back to the family and saw just the lady and the child, their eyes looking at him longingly, as if they had just finished crying.
The old man was gone. Terror welled up within him. He did not know what to do as they looked at him. he could not speak, and his stomach turned. He felt he had to leave. He kept his eyes on them, and they seemed to grow sadder as he backed away through the door. Leaving through the door, the room grew darker till he turned his view elsewhere.
Turning he was in an almost pitch black room. There was another man sitting in an expensive leather armchair, with a folded newspaper in his lap and an empty glass in his hand. James walked towards him and sat down on another chair. The small light from a table alongside him provided the only light to be seen.
“What is this?” he asked the seated man.
“What do you mean?” he replied as he looked up from his paper. He was a young man, perhaps in his twenties, blonde haired he was well dressed and spoke casually.
“I don’t know. Everything faded away in there.” James said meekly. “Where is this place?”
“Why did it fade away?”
“It faded away because this is a dream you’re having. Everything is an illusion here.”
“A Dream? Who are you?”
“I could be anything. I could be logic, or perhaps not. I could be as much as part of this dream as the people you mentioned. I could be anything” he said. Looking down he seemed to want to go back to reading the newspaper.
“Who were they? I seemed to know them but somehow I did not” James said, his voice becoming desperate.
“They are people you love. You just cannot recognize them at the moment.”
“Everything changed after I looked at the whiskey bottle. I could feel it. I just held it, and the man was gone. Why would they do that?”
“Does the word elucidation mean anything to you Mr. Henry? This is what is happening if you could only recognize it. This is an elucidation of your mind. Perhaps it was some grief you fell asleep with that nibbled and pulled at the sinews of your mind. Or perhaps you have been drinking. In any case what you are feeling is an elucidation, or perhaps you could say an illumination of your mind.”
“I don’t understand. I don’t know those people. The were all there, then one left. I looked back and one had left. How does that elucidate anything?”
“That's for you to discover I’d suppose. My best guess is you have a lot to discover if you cannot answer anything now.”
“This is a dream? It seems so real. How do I know it is a dream? Why don’t I just wake up?”
“Why don’t you, you obviously feel uncomfortable. But you must see I am not here, nor you. We are just pictures. Then you will understand.”
“How do I get out of this?”
“Why not go to the window.”
James then turned and saw a window. Taking one last long look at the seated man, he walked to the window. Outside there was lightning across a dark sky. With this the room flashed white. Then there was a rumble.
He sat up in bed. He gasped for air a few times. His forehead was wet with sweat he wiped away with his hand. Outside there was indeed thunder and lightning. He around the room and slowly became aware it was his. He looked at his hands and could feel his lungs gasping for air as if he had not breathed. There was a roar of thunder here and there. This seemed more frequent than the lightning, but when the light did flash it filled the room.
He looked down to see Sarah next to him in bed. Her thin body was covered by a thick blanket body but she was laying next to him still. She softly moved but remained motionless. She was asleep still.
Catching his breath James laid back down in bed. He looked at Sarah and ran his fingers through her dark hair. He was breathing normally again. He had dreamt of it all. But the people, the blonde man, their dissappearence, it all seemed so real. Who were they? He kept thinking back to the bottle. He went over it all as the storm raged outside. Gradually the strom outside was greater than the one within. Gradually easing, he fell back asleep, though never long enough for anymore dreams that evening.
