“I suppose that, since I don't even know what questions to ask, it’s
better to just consider you as the man bearing friendly greetings and know
that I’ll reach the other kingdom in good time,” I laughed a little, because
I had the feeling that I really did understand – another chill crept up
my spine.
“Indeed, you are the one,” he said, as he covered the pipe with
his hands, making it vanish. He then sat back in his chair and put his
hands folded behind his head.
“Can I at least ask you a question of what I know that I don't know?”
I asked.
“Sure, you can always ask questions. That doesn't mean that I’m going
to have the answers, because I don't know what I don't know either. But
you go ahead and ask. If it’s a good question, I'll try to give you a good
answer.” He then sat up and leaned forward to look me right in the eyes.
“Okay, here goes. Who are you?” I asked.
“Not a bad question at all. In fact, a very good question. However,
it is more important for you to answer it than it is for you to ask it,"
he said, pulling on his salt and pepper beard while rubbing the piece of
white cloth which dangled from the chain about his neck. “Who are you?”
he asked.
This seemed quite profound coming from this mysterious man sitting in
my house uninvited. He was absolutely right. “I don't really know – do
I?” I replied, and again the tingling. The phone rang and broke my almost
mystical thoughts. Knowing that the machine would answer it after two rings,
instinctively, I leaped up. “Just a minute let me get ...” I said as I
turned for the kitchen.
The instant I had my back toward him, I realized I was making a mistake.
I had that feeling you get when you lock your keys in the car and realize
it as you see yourself shutting the door. It was too late to stop and go
back. Something inside me told me that he had finished his conversation
with me. Sure enough, when I turned and looked back he was gone. He had
vanished again and I had the depressing feeling that I probably wouldn't
see him for another six months.
