I was inside a box. I assumed it was a box. Maybe it was a room, a well, or was it a can? There was no light, no wind that I could fee. I tried to touch my toes, to feel my body, but there was nothing. I tried to reach for the walls, yet there was none. Still, quite amused, I could not feel my body moving. I was thinking of actions and knew I was doing it but there was none of this consciousness.
A door opened. I saw the dazzling lights featuring the tagline for tonight’s theater show. It stood in front of the extremely humongous arena at the center of the streets: Are you really who you think you are? See Mr. Magnifico. One night only. Those words were illuminated through the purple, then pink and blue flashing lights coming from the sky. No, sorry, from the streets. Oh, it was coming from my heart.
I finally saw my body! I saw myself, reflecting those hues from my opened heart. But I could see every detail, now, even myself? There was no mirror but I knew that the person standing in front of me was me. This was the most magnificent, most unbelievable view anyone could possibly imagine. Everyone was lining up; no one seemed to notice the purple, pink, and blue lights reflecting from my heart and lighting the signage for the show. Who was Mr. Magnifico? What were his tricks? Was he part of the ancient travelling circus that my father used to talk about?
Suddenly, people started turning their heads and gazed at me. All hundred pairs of eyes stared blankly at me. I saw how my hair started to stand. Yet there was no sensation that I could feel.
Then their eyes turned to hands and I saw clapping hands all over the place. They were all gestured towards me. Hundreds of eyes, clapping hands, but there was no sound. I asked myself, was this my show? Did these people line up to see me do my tricks? Was I Mr. Magnifico?
I always dreamt of being on stage and performing in front of hundreds and thousands of spectators. This could be my chance. The arena was full of those amazingly floating eyes and hands. I started to walk towards the center stage then the floor suddenly looked wobbly. Still, I continued to walk with my head held high and with astounding stance, I tried to look my best. While I was walking, my clothes started to change. One step, I looked like Sherlock Holmes with his signature cap and flashing coat. Another step and I was as presentable as the representative of a country. Then, I turned into the most elegant Sultan of all the lands, with my colorful malong and my tattooed arms. While the scenes of my most glorious fights were flashed among the crowd, I saw the way I traveled along the mighty seas of Asia. Finally, I was the strongest knight of all; accompanied by my black colt and his red and white saddle. I was even dressed with the toughest silver armor made by the best blacksmith of the time and on one hand I had my golden shield. But, I still saw the wobbling of the floor; I could see the audience starting to fade away. They were not walking away because they never had feet to start with, but they were fading, coming to look like the wind, with no outline, no image, and no shadow. Still, I could hear no sounds. I tried to speak, to ask for help, to scream. The floor was eating me alive. I could see the hollow end of the sinking floor. I tried to stretch my arms and hoped that someone would see me, that someone would try to save me. Then, the hollow floor started to turn into a river. I was not falling, I was floating. My feet were comfortably resting on the grassy land beside the river.