Master Simon was troubled by Elsinor’s dreams. He couldn’t quite figure what it was that troubled him. She was very young, but it is more than that. He thought the boy, Marcus, was a real person in real trouble.
He scanned the empty dining hall, the separate tables with the now-closed storyboard games on each table. That so-called “game” was no game. He knew that. It held too many mysteries, revealed far too much to be just a game.
He sat down at one of the tables and opened the game board. Each game was a replica of the early version which was protected under glass. He put his finger on the center image, of Still Mountain. Just touching an image of that sacred place opened his mind to all he had seen and done, to the many grievous errors he had made along his own story path.
Most people had no idea that life was simply a story unfolding. He knew that most people thought we were caught in a swirl of events over which we have no control but, in truth, Simon reminded himself, we constantly draw the life choice cards, make our decisions, and pray for the best.
Simon forced his mind back to the practical concerns of the day—Marcus, and Elsinor’s dream. He must go to the village and poke about to discover if there is a sad boy, a dark house, a wily father. He would go first thing in the morning.
A quiet reflection
What do you sense before you understand it—and how do you know when it asks for your attention?
What do you sense before you understand it—and how do you know when it asks for your attention?
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