I awoke, bookmark on my chest, book with pages splayed beside me; the lamplight brighter than the remaining daylight outside, indicating I’d slept for a good couple of hours.
The rain pelted the window, reminding me of the waterfall in the dream; well, the sound of the waterfall as it met the crystal clear reflective pool beneath it… I watched my reflection dance through each ripple as the gentle tides lapped the edge.
Each bob constantly morphing my reflection, changing my expression slightly – one time happy, another confused… perplexed… empty… angry… neutral… calm.
As I peered deeper into the reflection, through my eyes which remained open regardless of whatever shape my face morphed into, I could see different images; thoughts; times; people.
Previous and future lives played out between the ripples – memories of this lifetime, faded and distant, yet possible futures oddly crystal clear for a second or two, then just a swirl of mirrored confusion.
I flick through the book to find the page where I last remember reading, mark the page and close it – the future may well be a mess of swirly confusion, but it’s my future, and it starts right now – and as always, nothing is as it seems.
Posted for Six Sentence Stories, the theme this week is ‘Bookmark’.
The Mansionic Perspective 
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