There once was a man who worked in a store. His days were spent reading, his nights spent gazing from his back porch through the trees at the river behind his house. Life is good, the man often thought, but there must be something more.
After the sun had set one summer day, he thought as he swept the floor of the store, how nice it would be to have his own boat to drift down the river in. As he smiled at his dream, a wood crate fell off of the shelf above him and down, right on his head.
And as the case happens to be when the dead realize they have passed, he knew where and what he was supposed to do. So he picked himself up off the store’s wood floor, let out a sigh, and walked out the door.
He followed the road to the woods behind his home, coming to a stop at the river bank beyond. Sitting in the water was a boat with an oil lamp at its bow. He climbed aboard and struck a match from his jacket pocket. But the wick of the lamp was dry, so the light of the match was taken away by the gentle breath of the wind.
If only the lamp had oil, he quietly thought, I could drift down the river by the guiding light of the stars. He smiled at the spoken words of his heart, for he knew that when a soul says its dream, it often comes to be.
The man awoke with a start and sat up in his bed. What a lovely dream, he said, and at least I’m not dead. His normal breakfast that morning had a little more flavor than usual, and his usual path to work was a little more pleasant than normal. As he walked up the steps in the front of the store, a bird sang as the clouds made a window for the sun. He looked up and smiled wide because there was something more to life after all.
So when the sun had set later that day, he started his normal sweeping routine and as he swept the floor, a crate full of bottles came crashing off a shelf down onto the floor. They all rolled out onto the ground and one stopped at the toe of his boot. When he picked it up, he read the label and chuckled to himself as he slipped it into his jacket pocket. He put up his broom and closed up the store. His lips formed a smile as he walked out of the door.
He followed the road down through the trees and to the river bank beyond them. And there, sitting in the water, was a boat with an oil lamp at its bow. The man’s heart was glad as it sang to his Soul as he stepped down into the boat. He pulled the bottle from his pocket and gave the empty lamp a drink. He struck a match, lit the wick, and the light of the lamp danced gently to a cricket’s song. And he pushed the boat of his dream with an oar away from the bank into the living current of the river.
“What a lovely night,” the man said aloud.
“Yes it is indeed,” the river happily agreed.
“Loveliest of them all,” laughed the joyful moon. “On nights when I find this place in the sky, I share the light of the sun with the river who shares our portrait with the stars.”
And the boatman began to drift in his Destiny by the growing Light of his Soul. He smiled a toothy grin because he knew happenstance is the loving way the World leads a man through to see his Dream.
“How beautiful the Soul is when it finds the Dream of Heaven,” said the choir of stars, as they sang the song of Love, down upon them all.
